Page 25 of Cross Check Daddies
She tilts her head.
“What happened between you and Cam? Back then.”
She sighs. “We were just kids.”
“And now?”
She glances toward her building. “It’s getting late.”
She is deflecting my question. It is clear as day. She leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, soft and abrupt, then walks toward the lobby without another word.
I watch her go, standing beside my bike like an idiot with sand still stuck between my toes.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Some alert from an app. I ignore it.
Because all I can think about is the way she looked at me during that dance. The way her voice dipped when she said she wasn’t ready. And the way my stomach had tightened when she’d said “Cam’s brother” like that mattered.
It does. But not enough to kill whatever this is.
This isn’t a crush. It’s not the same thing I felt watching her kiss my brother back in high school and wondering what that might be like. This is more layered. Messier.
And I’m completely screwed.
I don’t head home. Not yet. The smart thing would be to ride back to the house, shoot the shit with Cam like I didn’t just dance in the sand with the girl he used to love. Like I’m not replaying the way her eyes closed halfway, mouth parted just slightly, waiting for something I should’ve given her. But I don’t.
I turn the bike around and head back toward the beach. Engine low, the streets thinning out, warm wind against my skin like the night’s trying to talk me down. It doesn’t work.
The beach is mostly empty now, just a few couples lingering by the water, some teenager with a Bluetooth speaker playing something slow and sad. I walk past them and drop down onto the spot from earlier. I run my hand through the sand, dragging it out in long, uneven lines.
What would’ve happened if I’d just kissed her?
I picture it too easily. Her fingers tightening in my shirt, her lips tasting like chocolate and salt, her breath hitching against mine before everything else falls away.
Maybe she would’ve kissed me back. Maybe she would’ve pulled away faster. Maybe we would’ve ruined everything in a heartbeat. But I wanted to. Holy hell, I wanted to. Still do.
I lean back on my elbows and stare at the stars like they have answers. Like the sky gives a damn about any of this.
She’s right. I know that. Whatever this is between us, it’s a mess waiting to happen. Cam doesn’t know. None of the guys do. And Brooke’s just trying to keep her head above water with a job, a kid, and a past that clearly still haunts her in ways she doesn’t talk about. I’m not what she needs. I shouldn’t want her.
But sitting here, hearing the ocean crawl in and out like it’s breathing for me, I can’t stop thinking about the almost. Howclose we came. How fast it flipped from teasing into something sharp and real.
I could’ve kissed her.
I didn’t.
And now I’m lying in the sand like a damn idiot, wondering what would’ve happened if I had, knowing I will never get the chance to do it anyway.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brooke
Jackson is finally asleep,curled into his Star Wars sheets like the tiny dreamer he is, breathing softly through parted lips.
I stand in his doorway a little longer than I need to, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, grounding myself in the one part of my life that isn’t tangled in memories or temptation.
When I close the door and hear the soft click behind me, I exhale.
The apartment is still too quiet, even with the game menu humming from the monitor in my office.
