My skin feels raw under his gaze as if I’m naked in front of a live audience.
A deep blush warms my cheeks.
“Anders,” he whispers.
I lift my eyes again.
Instead of talking, he cups my face—not in the controlling way that made me freak out this morning, but in that caressing way that reminds me of who Brody is.
He leans in, his soft lips meeting mine and reassuring me that he’s still here. It’s not a sexual, needy kiss, but one that makes promises I’m not even sure Brody’s in a position to make.
He pulls back. “Thank you for telling me.”
We stay staring into each other’s eyes, his hand still on my beard, my confession and Brody’s acceptance thick in the air.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask.
“That’s entirely up to you. I have to admit that I suck at the relationship thing.”
“You suck at it? Hello, did you hear what I just said?”
Brody chuckles. “Right. I want to keep doing … whatever it is that we’re doing. I like kissing you. But I probably have to warn you of some stuff too. Like—”
“That it might be too much? I get it. I totally understand. It’d be too much for me too if I were you.”
His big hand covers my mouth. “You have a terrible habit of interrupting me today.”
“Sorry,” I say, muffled against his hand.
“I was going to warn you that I’m so sucky at relationships, I didn’t even realise my last boyfriend had broken up with me.” He removes his hand.
“What?”
“Okay, ‘boyfriend’ might be a bit of a stretch of a title, but I was seeing this guy, and things were going great. Work got busy, so granted, I wasn’t around as much as usual. When I messaged him to say I finally had a weekend where I didn’t have to work, he informed me we’d broken up a month ago after I’d ghosted him for two weeks.”
My eyes narrow. “You accidentally ghosted someone?”
Brody runs a hand through his thick brown hair. “I knew it had been a while since we’d seen each other, but with my schedule, I hadn’t realised it had been six weeks since I’d last contacted him. I didn’t mean to be so absent, but when work is super busy, I guess it’s easy for me to tune out the real world. I’m worried if we start something, I might not be able to be what you need.”
I huff. “Trust me. Clinginess is not what I need. I need someone who knows what I went through and can be patient with me.”
“I promise I have the patience of a saint.” His words are reassuring, but his demeanour is not.
I take in Brody’s sombre expression. “What’s wrong?”
His arm wraps around my shoulders, and I willingly scoot closer. It feels weird—this new level of intimacy of just … touching. I keep waiting for the panic to start, but the rhythmic beating of my heart isn’t the same as the jackhammering it usually does when Brody’s this close. My increased heart rate has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with anticipation.
“I feel like the biggest dickwad for continuing to taunt you about going out with me. I’ve never thought of myself as a pushy guy, you know? But something about you—”
“I’m interrupting again, but I need to know. What made you think of this now?”
“It suddenly all makes sense, and I feel like a jerk. Since you moved in, I’ve seen glimpses of this happy guy. You never laughed or threw a genuine smile my way the whole time I kept asking you out. It makes me no better than the kid I’m representing who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I try not to scoff at that, because it’s obvious he’s one hundred percent serious. “Comparing yourself to a rapist is a bit of a stretch. And if I’m honest … I both loved and hated the attention you were giving me. The reason I never smiled was because I hated myself. I hated that I couldn’t say yes. But I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.”
Brody still looks tortured.
“You never pushed. You said things, sure, you asked me out, and if I had a problem with it, trust me, Law would’ve set you straight because I would’ve tattled on you like a kindergartener whose toy was stolen. But you were never invasive or … predatory.”
“Still doesn’t make it right.”
“Lesson learned, then?”
He nods. “Next time a guy says no, I’ll leave him alone.”
I know I shouldn’t trip over the words next time, but something inside me doesn’t like the thought of Brody moving on after I fuck this up once and for all.
Because let’s face it—it’s inevitable.
He says he can be patient now, but what if this morning is only a glimpse of what’s to come? What if it takes too long for me to get comfortable enough to truly be with him?