Page 52 of Wish You Once More
“What time did you leave Darthampton?”
“Early. The train was before seven.”
Christ, she must have been awake since dawn. Much the same as me, although I suspect it may have been for different reasons. I went over to the kitchen and busied myself making us a cafetiere; possibly the most domesticated thing I’d done in ages.
By the time I found two clean mugs and poured the coffee, Bree had settled herself down on the sofa. She looked so right there, yet so wrong.
“Bree, why are you here?” I couldn’t wait any longer, I had to know. I passed her one of the mugs and sat down at the other end, angling my body so I could face her.
She blew on her coffee before taking a tentative sip. “I wanted to see how you were. I heard about your dad.”
Her words hit me in the gut. I’d run out on the woman the morning after sleeping with her again. I hadn’t contacted her since, and yet she’d travelled hundreds of miles to check up on me.
“I’m sorry.”
Bree’s brows knotted together. “For what? Leading me on? Leaving me? Ignoring me? Which is it this time?”
I deserved every one of those verbal punches.
I’d done all of those things to her, not once, but twice.
But it still didn’t make sense that she was here.
I dragged a hand through my hair. “All of it?”
She let out a hard breath. “I suppose I should be used to it.”
I let my head fall back onto the back of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. I didn’t know what she expected me to say, didn’t know what the right answer was.
After a few moments of silence, Bree spoke again. “I wanted to check up on you.”
“You did?” My head jerked back up again. “Why didn’t you just call?”
Bree made a face. “Maybe because some jerk has their phone switched off? I left you a message, but I guess you didn’t get it.”
After I decided to cut contact with everyone, I threw my phone into a drawer and had forgotten all about it. For the most part, it had been refreshing; not having to constantly be a slave to notifications, but I realised I might have missed something important.
“What happened between you and Jonny, Mat?” asked Bree.
The memory of our argument at the hospital still burned in my memory. The words tumbled out as I explained how he thought I didn’t care about the family, how I was never there to help, how he didn’t want anything to do with me. I didn’t realise how much the emotion had got to me until I felt Bree brushing tears away from my cheeks. The frustration and stress poured out, and she bore the brunt of it.
“He knows what I did to save the business all those years ago, he knows I care what happens to Dad.” I choked the words out. “But I don’t know what he wants me to do to make it better.” Bree pulled me towards her. I buried my head in her shoulder, while she stroked the back of my neck. Despite the emotion of the situation, my dick stirred at her touch. It wasn’t what she was here for - was it? Confused, I pulled back. Bree stared at me; her own eyes glassy with tears.
“You need to talk to him. Tell him what you’ve just told me. Ask him what he needs you to do. I could be something simple, like financial help or if he needs you to do more with the business.”
“Hah, Scott would love that,” I scoffed.
She shrugged, taking my hand in hers. “So what? If it’s what needs to happen to get your relationship with your family back on track, he’ll have to suck it up.”
“What about our relationship, Bree? What needs to happen to get our relationship back on track?”
Her eyes questioned me. “Is that what you want?”
“Do you?” I countered.
She didn’t answer, and I thought I’d been wrong. But then, slowly, inexorably, she moved towards me, her lips meeting mine in the softest, tiniest, butterfly kiss. A kiss which affected me more than any other action anyone else had ever done to me. Before she had the chance to draw back, I slid my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close, increasing the pressure and passion. My tongue pressed gently, asking for permission to explore her lips and mouth, my fingers threaded in her blonde and blue hair. When her hands found their way underneath my t-shirt, nails dragging lightly over my skin, my erection grew, pushing insistently at the zip of my jeans. She pulled back momentarily, lifting her sweater over her head, revealing a bra the exact same shade of blue as the streak in her hair. I swallowed hard, drinking in the sight, so familiar yet so new.
“Are you sure about this?” I murmured, nibbling the skin at the hollow of her neck.
