Page 105 of Outspoken

A jolt hits my heart and I suck in a breath. He doesn’t need to explain because I understand exactly what he means.

I love Miguel.

As soon as that thought crosses my mind, it’s like a dam breaking—every part of me is flooded with a deep, warm, peaceful knowing. It’s the first time those words have felt so solid and real inside me, and there’s no more wondering or questioning.

I love him.

Butterflies mix with violent waves in my gut. Even though I love him, that doesn’t fix anything.

I stare blankly at my hands laying flat on the table. “How has he been at work?” I ask. “We haven’t talked lately, so I’m wondering.”

“Normal,” Brody says. “Maybe keeps to himself more, but I thought that was because he’s feeling guilty.”

“You think he’s dating anyone?”

Brody laughs. “No. He’s pretty stuck on you. Why haven’t you been talking?”

I grab the water bottle he set on the table for me and stand. Sharing time is over. I need to go sit behind my defenses for a bit to feel less mushy.

Ugh, love. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Thanks for the brotherly talk,” I say. “It wasn’t as good as talking with Paige, but it’ll do.”

Brody nods with an amused smirk, observing instead of speaking.

I bite my lip, studying my brother with heavy shoulders. He’s given me so much support over the years and been patient with me—mostly—even if I don’t always like or agree with his tactics. But it’s still so hard to tell him how much I appreciate him, and I really want that part of myself to change. Some bickering is fun, but I want to lessen my sarcasm and attitude.

Fuck, I have so many old patterns to unravel.

“I mean, sorry,” I say quietly. “That came out snarky. I appreciate you talking to me. I appreciate a lot of what you’ve done for me.”

“You’re my sister,” he states. Then a guilty look crosses his face.

Not sure what that’s about.

Dismissing his strange look, I say, “So, um, you’re okay if I date Miguel?”

He shrugs.

I shrug back. Simple enough. Everything feels lighter, so I walk to the front door with a bit more hope. And since we got that heavy discussion out of the way, I might as well add one more thing before my walls come back up for comfort.

Before I can change my mind, I rattle out, “I broke my sobriety a month ago and had tequila shots, but I got my one-month sober chip yesterday, so I’m focusing on getting another three-month chip to add to the pile.”

He narrows an eye at me and I prepare for his usual loud lecture. I hate when he makes me feel like I’m five, but I deserve it for breaking his trust.

I wait, my body tense, but the onslaught of words never comes.

He only nods. Then, as if Eric visited earlier and gave him personal coaching, Brody says, “Thanks for telling me. I’m proud of you.”

My mind blanks out for a moment and I stare. “You’re proud of me?”

He nods again, looking serious. “Very proud of you.”

Tears sting my eyes and the lightness inside me expands. “You’re not going to yell about how disappointed you are or how you need me to text every five hours that I’m okay? No demanding to know where I am and who I’m hanging out with and telling me if I’m not careful I’ll end up right back in rehab or worse? Or ask if I enjoy fucking up my life?”

His serious expression slips back into guilt and his eyes are dodgy. “No. Soon as I got back to work after vacation, Miguel chewed me out about how I’ve been acting with you. I’m working on my responses.”

My mouth hangs open. “Wha…what did he say?”

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