Page 63 of That Moment
Amelia hides a smile. “Okay, but slow down. You and Scotty…”
I groan. “Here it comes.”
“You know we love him. He’s a great guy and a great friend. But he’s also had his fair share of… company.”
Brooklyn points her glass toward Amelia. “A fair point, but in her defense, we have told her this before.”
I bristle before I can stop myself. “I know his past. I’m not naïve. Brooklyn’s right.”
“Didn’t say you were,” Amelia says gently. “But it’s worth remembering. He’s charming, he’s fun, and he’s good at making people feel special. That’s part of why everyone likes him.”
Something in my chest tightens, and as much as I love the fact that Amelia doesn’t want to see me get hurt, would it kill her to just join in on the moment and be happy for me? “You think that’s what this is? That I’m just another one of the women he makes feel special in his bed?”
“No, that’s not what I said. You’re getting defensive.” Amelia’s voice softens further. “I know he does care about you, I don’t doubt that. But I also think you’ve always seen a version of him no one else gets to. That’s dangerous territory because it makes you really vulnerable to getting hurt.”
Brooklyn nods, more cautious now. “She’s right, babe. I mean, we all love Scotty, but he’s not exactly known for commitment. He’s the kind of guy who lives day to day. You’re… not. I think what Amelia is saying, what we’re both saying, is, don’t try to read more into this than it is.”
I push back from the table, pacing toward the window. Outside, the porch light glows softly across the yard, and I try to swallow the sting in my throat. “I know that, okay? I’m not blind. But he’s different now. He’s grown up. And I’m not trying to make this something it isn’t.”
Brooklyn tilts her head. “Aren’t you?”
“No.” I turn back, forcing a laugh that sounds too thin. Panic clutches at my chest. I thought I was keeping an arm’s lengthfrom this whole thing, but the way they’re looking at me right now, I’m starting to think I might be in way over my head. “We’re just… friends who hooked up. Having fun. That’s it.”
Amelia’s brow lifts. “Friends who hooked up?”
“Yes,” I insist, even though the words scrape against my chest. “It’s not complicated unless I make it complicated. I know what he is, and I’m fine with that.”
Brooklyn’s eyes soften. “You’re sure?”
No. “Yes.”
The room falls quiet for a beat. Then Amelia smiles, gentle and real, like a small weight has just been lifted from her shoulders. “Well, we both said our peace, and you seem to know what you want. So, if you’re happy, then we’re happy.”
Brooklyn lifts her glass in a mock toast. “To reckless choices and hot mechanics.”
I clink mine against theirs, laughing, even though it feels a little hollow. “To bad decisions, good memories, and toe-curling orgasms.”
“Speaking of,” Brooklyn giggles, “tell us everything.”
But later, when the laughter fades and the conversation drifts to work and toddlers and Amelia’s new wine label, I can’t stop the quiet ache pressing behind my ribs. Because they mean well, they always do, but their words replay in my head like a warning.
I drive home with the windows down, the cool night air rushing through my hair. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. That they’re just being protective. That they don’t see the Scotty I see; the one who listens without judgment when I rant about the cage I’ve built around myself, who slows down when I’m seconds from panicking and talks me off a ledge, who makes me laugh until my sides ache when all I want to do is cry.
But when I crawl into bed and see his face behind my closed eyelids, I can’t lie to myself. I want more. And I’m terrified he doesn’t.
Chapter 10
Scotty
The Place has smelled the same since I was a kid. Like spilled beer, fried food, and old country heartbreak. The jukebox hums low in the corner, Merle Haggard’s voice mixing in and out with the clack of pool balls and the chatter of regulars.
Tyler leans against the bar beside me, bottle in hand, while Decker lines up a shot like it’s life or death. Ranger’s already two beers ahead, grinning at me like an idiot.
“You know,” Tyler drawls, “I still can’t get over how you and Adrienne disappeared at the bonfire. Whole damn crowd there, and you two were off in your own little world by the fire. What’s it been now— a decade of this shit?”
Decker doesn’t even look up from his cue stick. “Yeah, I’ve never seen Adrienne Slade look that flushed from stargazing. What’d she see up there? Penis Erectus?” He laughs, proud of his joke.
Ranger snorts into his beer. “Guess it was a real educational evening.” That earns a round of laughter. Ranger slaps the table hard enough to rattle the cue chalk.
