Page 65 of Fight Or Flight

His eyes narrow and his lips pause over my knuckles.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He says it so nonchalantly that it makes me question myself. I stare at him for a beat and start to wonder if I’m overreacting. If the fear I have isn’t valid. He hasn’t even told his parents yet. Maybe he’s not one hundred percent committed to enlisting. If that’s the case, does that change anything? Am I still willing to put my heart at risk of another heartbreak?

Suddenly my mind wanders back to the night at the pizzeria, and I recall the conviction in his eyes as he shared his five-year plan with me for the first time. Then I think back to the night in his bedroom and the story about the flag. There’s no way I misread the desire in his eyes. The need to serve.

“Brook, that’s like four months from now,” he continues.

“You make it sound like that’s a long time,” I rasp. “Do you know what can happen in four months?”

He narrows his eyes.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Eric, let me ask you something, okay? If I didn’t lock that door last night, what would’ve happened?”

“I would’ve laid in bed with you and held you.”

“And then? Would you have done it again tonight?”

“Brook, I’d do it every night if you let me.”

“You can’t say things like that,” I argue, pulling my hand away from his. “We’re not a couple, Eric. I’m…” My voice trails. I don’t even know how to describe what I am, let alone what we are. On paper, I’m a girl his parents took in because they felt obligated, but in my heart, that doesn’t feel true. Lauren and Riggs have given me too much love and compassion for me to say those cold words.

“We can be.”

My gaze snaps back to him and I watch as he cups the back of his neck roughly. His eyes meet mine and his hand falls back to his side.

“What?” I whisper.

He blows out a ragged breath, but his eyes never leave mine.

“A couple, we can be a couple.” He pauses, seeming to give his response more thought. “I basically claimed you to my old man, anyway. It makes sense.”

“You what?”

“Long story.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, taking my hands. He pulls me closer to him and smiles down at me. “Be my girlfriend, Brooklyn Nicholson, let me hold you and kiss you every night.”

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

He can’t be serious.

“Shit,” he hisses, the smile falling from his face. “I probably shouldn’t have said that today, huh? You’re grieving and I’m…”

I cut him off.

“I can’t be your girlfriend, Eric.”

“Right, yeah …bad idea,” he sputters, releasing my hands. His cheeks flame and he roughly scratches the side of his jaw before slicing his eyes back to mine. “Why is it a bad idea?”

It’s a bad idea because you’re going to break my heart.

“Well, for one, I don’t think your parents took me in to be your live-in girlfriend, but mainly because…”

Just tell him.

“I like you,” I blurt. “I like you so much that the last conversation I had with my mom was about you. I didn’t check on her when we got home that night, Eric. I didn’t ask how she felt or if she needed anything. I climbed into bed with her and told her all about the boy who kissed me and how spectacular it made me feel.”

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