Brayden

“Uncle Levi said Molly can’t keep her eyes off you, and you should be a man and stop ignoring her.” My niece just grins up at me, as if she’s completely oblivious to the pot she’s stirring by delivering Levi’s message.

I know better. That little pest is about to star in her second wedding in three months, and she’s made it her personal mission to marry off all her uncles and her aunt Shay so she can wear more “princess dresses.” Poor Levi and Ellie haven’t even been back together a full week, and Lilly is already asking when they’ll get married. A seven-year-old playing matchmaker is pretty hilarious when it’s not you, but the last thing I need is her scaring away Molly.

Despite that, my gaze drifts to the woman in question, who’s sitting in a booth at the back of Jackson Brews and having a beer with my sister. They’re laughing and carrying on about something, and the sight of her here—laughing with Shay, hanging with my family, one of us—makes my chest ache. She worked all day, but tonight, for Ethan and Nic’s rehearsal dinner, she gets to celebrate with us. I want to enjoy it, enjoy her, and pull her into my arms and kiss her until she knows just how much I love having her here, to let everyone else know she’s mine. But those damn rules of hers keep my feet planted a good distance away, like they have been all night. I’m close enough to watch her but not so close that she’s within reach. Because that might be too much temptation.

“Hey, stranger. A little birdie told me I might find you here tonight.”

I pull my gaze off Molly and meet Sara’s hazel eyes. I wait for that old hurt to hit. The feeling of my world being ripped out from under my feet when I never thought it was possible. That feeling lingered long after she left me. Every time I heard her name or smelled her perfume on my sheets. Every time I saw the professor she fucked.

That ache of betrayal and loneliness lasted too long. Until eventually I didn’t trust the world beneath my feet. Until I let go of the idea of happily-ever-after for myself. For too long I thought that losing that with Sara meant losing it forever.

But the hurt doesn’t come. The earth is steady beneath my feet, the air still filling my lungs, and I can only stare at her and marvel at how much I’ve changed. I guess time heals after all. But maybe I shouldn’t give time all the credit. “What are you doing here, Sara?” Jackson Brews is open to the public tonight, but it’s the last place I thought I’d run into her—she likely came here to seek me out.

“Not drinking, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Her voice is thick, like she’s talking around tears. “I was just hoping we might talk.”

I search her face, see the sincerity in her eyes. “I thought we already did that.”

“We did, and I should give you time to process everything, but . . .” She drops her gaze to her hands, twisted in front of her. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

I take them in mine. “It’s been years. I’ve let go.”

She cocks her head to the side, studying my face. “Let go, or moved on?”

Before I realize what I’m doing, I catch my gaze drifting back to Molly—her long blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. “I think the two may have gone hand in hand for me,” I admit, to myself as much as her.

“I’ve missed you.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I’ve never forgiven myself for losing you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t realize how lucky I was.” She steps closer and tilts her head back to hold my gaze. I can’t help but compare it to how it feels to have Molly this close. How different this is. How right it feels to close the distance and pull Molly into my arms.

“Sara . . .” I’m not sure what to say, or if I should even say anything at all when I’m in such limbo with Molly. A year ago I’d have jumped on the chance to have Sara back. And ironically, a year ago I hadn’t forgiven her. Maybe I needed to understand what she did in order to move on.

Sara takes advantage of my contemplative silence and lifts onto her toes to press her mouth to mine. I step away from the kiss, but not before her lips brush over mine.

“I’m sorry. I can’t . . .” I don’t get a chance to put my thoughts into words, because I spot Molly, standing ten feet away and staring at me like I’ve just torn out her heart.

When I meet her eyes, she turns on her heel and rushes through the kitchen door.

Sara grabs my arm before I even realize I’m chasing after Molly. “Brayden?”

I shake my head. “I can’t do this right now, Sara.” I look over my shoulder to where Molly disappeared into the kitchen. Shit.

Molly

The night is clear, and stars twinkle down from a cloudless winter sky as I push out into the lot behind Jackson Brews. I didn’t take time to grab my coat, and the icy wind bites into my bare skin. I welcome the sting against my cheeks as I tilt my face to the stars. I won’t cry. I have no right to cry.

They kissed.

I wish I could be angry about that, angry with Brayden for leading me on or for making me want so much more than I ever let myself believe I could have, but I’m cursed with enough rational thought that anger eludes me. This is my fault. Brayden is giving me what I asked for—no strings. No commitments. No future. None of the things I know he’ll be so good at giving the right woman.

“Are you trying to catch pneumonia?”

I close my eyes at Brayden’s voice. The deep rumble of it. The way it scrapes over my skin like a highly anticipated caress.

When I turn to him, he’s pulling off his jacket and handing it to me. I shake my head. “Take it,” he says, his voice hard enough that I decide it’s not worth arguing.

I slip into it. It’s still warm, and it smells like him—clean and spicy. The scent makes my head spin with memories that almost knock me off my feet.

He folds his arms and stares at me, his face hard. I expect a lecture or a speech about why my jealousy is unfair.

“Say it,” I spit out when he says nothing.

He arches a brow. “What do you want me to say?” His eyes scan my face, snagging on my mouth for a beat before returning to meet my eyes. “Do you want me to apologize for what you saw in there?”

“No. You don’t owe me an apology.”

An emotion that I can’t name passes across his face. “Then why are you looking at me like I just broke your heart?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You kissed her.”

“She kissed me,” he says.

“I’m sure it was a hardship,” I mutter, hating the bitchy edge that laces every word. I shrug. “Relax. I don’t have any claim to you, and I know it.”

Those intense, dark eyes search my face. “You could, you know.” His voice hitches, as if it’s catching on something, stumbling over an emotion he’s tried to hide and tripped on instead.

I scoff. I’m an idiot. This is stupid. But try as I might, I can’t ignore this want clawing at me. This wish that I could be someone else. This craving for more than a girl like me should expect. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“What do you want, Molly?”

I frown at my feet. “Just fresh air. A minute alone.”

He steps forward and takes my chin in his hand, tilting my face up until my eyes meet his. “Liar,” he whispers.

“We’re all liars,” I whisper back.

“So tell me something true. Something real.”

I open my mouth to say something snide and then close it again.

“Do you want me to go first?” he asks softly. When I don’t answer, he goes on. “I like having you at the house.” His hand slides into my hair, and his thumb traces the edge of my jaw. “I didn’t realize how lonely it was there until I knew what it was like to have it filled with your laughter. I like sitting across from you with coffee in the mornings, and watching TV with you when we should both be in bed.” He lowers his face to mine, but when I think he’s going to kiss me, he simply brushes his nose against mine. “I like touching you, and I hate thinking about you leaving. Ever. Whether that’s in January or February or in a year. I want you there. I want you with me.”

I close my eyes, relishing his closeness, the heat of his breath on my lips, the rough strength of his hand along my jaw. And despite the harsh chill in the night air, I feel warm.

He pulls back. “Your turn.”

I hesitate, unsure which of the thousand confessions swimming through my mind I should offer him, weighing the implications of each before finally circling back to what brought me out here to begin with. “I was jealous. Of her.”

“Because she kissed me?”

“Yes.” I shake my head. It’s not that simple. “Because . . . despite everything, she’s better for you than I am.” I meet his eyes, my need to protect my heart at war with my need to offer myself to him. “Because she wanted—wants—the same things you do, and you could have a life with her. A family. A chance at happiness. And I . . .” I can’t find the words, and draw in a ragged breath against the pain of the truth.

“You don’t want to give me those things.”

“It’s not about what I want, Brayden. It’s about who I am. I can’t . . . I’ve never . . .” I tear my gaze away from those knowing eyes, from the tenderness and sympathy in them. I don’t want sympathy. “I don’t even know how to have a real relationship. A boyfriend. I’ve never had one.” He’s so silent that I don’t have a choice but to meet his eyes again, to try to piece together his hidden thoughts from the shadows passing over his features. “Say something, you stubborn, silent ass.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Do you want to be my girlfriend, Molly?”

My cheeks heat. “Don’t mock me.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t. Not about this.” He wraps his arms around my back and draws me against his chest, leading me into a quiet dance to the music of the cars on the street and the icy breeze in the trees. He props his chin on the top of my head and rubs slow, lazy circles on my back. “She kissed me, but I didn’t want her to. This time last year, I’d have given up everything to have her back—for better or worse—but I don’t feel that way anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m in love with someone else.” My feet stop moving, but he continues. “This woman, the one I love? I’m not sure how she feels about me, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t turn off what I feel. I might be a stubborn ass, but I know what I want.” He pulls back to look at me. “That’s never been the problem.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know what you want, Molly.” His thumb is rough across my cheek as he sweeps away a tear I didn’t realize I’d shed.

“I’m scared.”

He nods. “Me too.”

“Sara hurt you,” I whisper.

He nods again. “She did.”

“What if I hurt you too?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Which is new for me, and completely unique to how I feel about you. I didn’t think I wanted to risk that again, but for you it’s not even a choice. It just is.”

I swallow hard. “So what does this mean?”

“I guess that depends. Will you go out with me, Molly McKinley?”

“Like, go steady?” My words are as wobbly as my knees beneath my dress.

“Oh, yeah. With the dates and the kissing and . . . anything else you want.”

“What if it doesn’t work? What if I . . .” I’m not even sure what I’m afraid of, aside from this frazzled skittering of don’t fuck this up running through my blood, not sure what question I can ask, aside from my secret whisper of what if you realize you deserve better?

“What if it does?” he asks. Then he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me. His lips are warm, his kiss tender, his arms tightening around me.

When he breaks away, I’m breathless and shaking. “We should go back in. I need to say goodbye before I head to the banquet center and make sure everything’s ready to go for tomorrow.”

Smiling, he takes my hand and leads me inside, not releasing me until we reach the kitchen.

“You look smug, Brayden Jackson.”

“I’m really your first boyfriend?”

My lips twitch. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Grinning, he turns away to leave me, but I grab his face in both hands. “You really love me?”

He doesn’t try to hide the warmth in his smile, and lowers his mouth to my ear when he whispers, “Don’t let it go to your head.”