Page 74 of Losing Forever
Then she knows wrong. What I’m feeling is more than sex. Maybe I should suggest staying in a hotel until I’m able to leave without looking like an insensitive ass. I could say I have work or plans to meet an old baseball friend. Hell, I could lie and say I have a date. That would shut these emotions down. Hopefully. Maybe. But each of those excuses would be a lie, my first to her, and I can’t do that. Not yet.
Braylee drinks her coffee and lifts her phone from the couch. “I was chatting with an old friend while you were in the kitchen,” she starts, alerting my Spidey senses. “He’s a Realtor now and heard I was in town.”
He. My stomach tightens with a dark jealousy I’ve never known.
She goes on. “I hoped to keep my being here a secret, but his mom lives a few doors down, and she told him I was back. I hope word doesn’t spread.” She pauses to sip coffee. “Anyway, he asked if I was going to list the house.”
“What did you say?” I try to keep my anger in check over this guy invading her life for the hope of a sale.
She stares into her mug. “I said I’d get back to him. I’m here to list the house. I know that, but I’m struggling with how to let it go. Having it makes me feel connected to them. I have a lifetime of memories here with them. If I sell it, I’ll officially be letting them go. I don’t know if I’m ready for that, even if I should be. It’s stupid.” She sips more coffee, but I think it’s to hide unshed tears.
Unable to resist, I put my arm around her. “Is this okay?” I ask, not wanting to blur the lines.
She nods and turns her glossy blue eyes to me. “I hate that I’m always crying around you.”
“You’re not always crying.” I use my suggestive tone and wink.
She laughs, just as I’d hoped.
“Does your family still own the house you grew up in?” she asks. “I know no one is there.”
“Actually, yes. We still have it. I need to sell it. But I need to see my dad to do it, and I haven’t seen him since his arrest.”
She wipes her nose and tucks her feet up on the couch, sitting crisscrossed. “I think you should see him.”
I stare out the glass door to the deck and woods beyond.
“I know you’re angry and hurt, and what happened was unfair. I also know what it’s like to lose everyone you’ve ever loved and never get a second chance. What are you really afraid of?”
I stand, my coffee in my hand. “I’m not afraid. I have nothing to say to him.”
“Have you told him you’re angry?”
“He knows I am.”
“But have youtoldhim? It can be good for you to voice how you feel.”
“I don’t want to talk about me. We’re not here for me. We’re here for you.” I take my coffee into the kitchen and rinse the mug in the sink. “How about I order food from Uber Eats now? I’m starving.”
We got Pop-Tarts at the airport yesterday on our way to baggage claim and ate them for breakfast this morning. That may have satisfied Braylee, but I’m starving. She doesn’t eat enough as it is.
“What was the name of the restaurant you mentioned earlier?” I ask.
A soft but knowing smile eases across her beautiful face. “Ladybug’s Kitchen.”
“Thanks.” I find it on the app. “What would you like? And please don’t say you’re not hungry.”
She sips her coffee as she strolls toward me. Her dark, wavy hair hangs over one shoulder. She’s not wearing makeup, not that she wears a lot. Her white T-shirt looks soft, and her jeans are ripped in a few places. Purple polish paints the toes on her little white feet. Has a woman ever looked so sexy before? I scrub a hand down my face and focus on my order. Eggs, bacon, toast, home fries. Maybe a waffle, too.
Braylee stands across the large island from me. “I guess I’ll have the avocado toast.”
I add it to the list, check out, and track the order. “Done. Now what?” I glance at the house, antsy to do something, anything to distract me from my thoughts.
She sets her mug on the counter and holds out her hand.
I give it a curious glance.
“I want to show you my room,” she says, as if this is a big deal.
