Page 107 of Collateral Damage
I gaze up at our beach estate now, admiring so many things about it, from the modern architecture to the sprawling lawn and gazebo filled with memories. Most of all, I love this house thanks to Mom. She’s the one who made it special.
I pat my brother on the shoulder, nearly falling off my board in the process. He chuckles, and the moment of levity lightens things.
“You should let me talk to Arden for you. Plead your case. She’s always liked me,” I tease, and he snorts, but we both know it’s true. “We were friends once. She might listen to me.”
“You’d do that for me?”
He has no idea what I’d do for him. What I’d give up.
What Ididgive up.
The secret I’ve held buried since I was a damn preteen sits on my tongue, aching to have a voice. For a brief moment, I consider letting go of the heavy burden I’ve been carrying and confessing to my brother where my heart has been for all these years.
One look at his tortured face sucks that confession right back to its hiding place deep within me. My signature mask covers my expression, tilting my lips into a smile.
“Yeah, brother, I’d do anything for you.”
Forty-Five
Sybil
Present - Age 27
The cast is drunk off their asses, and Perry is gleeful about it.“Give your talent unlimited alcohol, and they’ll give you good television.”His words. Not mine. I don’t protest, but I keep a close eye on Benton.
Sometimes I swear the man forgets cameras and microphones are following his every move. It’s like he’s so acclimated to being on the show he forgets to check himself. He’s not making my job easy, that’s for sure.
We’ve been filming all day, and luckily the cast is getting along. We sent a crew to get b-roll of the island and holiday happenings, but our people are staying put. We’ve had lawn games and a pool party set up for them, as well as beach access, plenty of barbecue food, and endless drinks. Perry even got a private fireworks show approved by the city, so we didn’t have to film in a crowd.
Right now, the six of them are all cuddled on the beach, cozy as fuck, with cameras behind them. The rest of us sit by the pool, watching the fireworks display color the blanked sky.
Cooper and I sit with our legs in the pool, and I’m painfully aware our fingers are only inches apart. Our necks are craned upward, and booming fireworks drum in tune with my booming heart.
He’s all I’ve thought about for two days.
I’m working?Cooper.
I’m driving?Cooper.
Sleeping? Eating? Talking?Cooper.Cooper. Cooper.
I’m driving myself crazy. If he would just give me a signal that he wanted more than friendship, I would take it.
But it’s like he’s completely unaffected.
God, it doesn’t help that he looks fucking amazing tonight. His silky brown hair has grown longer than usual, windswept by the breeze coming off the ocean. The planes of his chiseled face light up with each flashing firework, the reds and blues and oranges making him appear almost ethereal. But he’s not ethereal; he’s human and masculine and primal. The cords of muscles in his body, the veins in his sun-tanned arms, the rise and fall of his chest… They’re doing unmentionable things to me. And his scent? Oh my God, his scent. It’s always been pleasant, but lately it’s intoxicating, as if my body has become attuned to the salty spice of his signature cologne.
Cooper’s not a boy anymore.
Cooper is a man.
And I want him.
I’m forced to stare at him and hope he doesn’t catch me looking, like a silly teenager with a crush.
In an ideal world—aka, my fantasy world—our pinkies would touch. He’d take my hand and lead me to bed within the hour.
But his pinky stays where it is.
