Page 67 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
Right up there with your sister.
On your greatest hits wall.
I nodded, trying to keep my voice casual. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… wondered.”
What the full story is.
“She was nothing like you,” he said quickly.
My brow lifted, just slightly.
“I mean—you might look a little alike, sure. But you’re completely different.”
Completely different from women you date?
“She lived on a farm. Grew her own vegetables. Made soup from scratch barefoot in the yard.” His lips twitched. “She wore these gauzy shirts that never really fit right. Always had paint or dirt on her.”
I microwave and use dried herbs.
“She couldn’t sit still. Took in every stray she ever met, cats, dogs, people. Anyone who wandered too close. She was a lot.”
Yesterday I sat in front of my laptop for 4 hours straight.
The quiet stretched.
I reached for my fork, then stopped. I wasn’t sure if I wanted another bite. The risotto had cooled. So had everything else.
Weekend Rituals
Claire
The coffee grinder’s low whirl pulled me out of sleep. I didn’t move, waiting for the smell of fresh-brewed coffee to drift in.
Same as every morning.
The night before replayed in flashes. The candles. The way his green eyes caught the light. The softclickwhen he set his glass down.
The moment he said her name.
I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling, trying to organize my thoughts. We’re just two people sharing an apartment. It’s fine.
The blanket had slipped from my arm; the skin there was cold. I pulled my arm back under. I listened. The grinder stopped, the cupboard door thudded, water poured into the machine.
Routine. Same as always.
Only my chest felt tighter than yesterday. And the coffee would smell exactly the same when I walked into the kitchen… but somehow taste different.
It was a new day. And the same one all over again.
I pushed back the covers and swung my legs over the side. The floor was cool under my feet. I pulled on leggings and a sweater, twisting my hair into a loose knot.
I was just reaching for the door handle when the knock came. Firm. Two beats. I hesitated, palm on the cool metal before turning it.
Liam stood there.
My heart gave a little kick.Okay Brooke, you win. He is a hot goalie.
One hand braced lightly on the frame, the other holding my mug. Steam curled past his knuckles.
