Page 48 of The Bridges I've Burned

For once, he didn’t pull away. “It’s one thing to offer advice. It’s another thing to follow it.”

I tried not to think about how much that resonated with me. How many times had I given Marin advice over the years, only to do the opposite in my own life?

I took a deep breath, letting the air leave my lungs slowly as I gathered the courage to speak. “It’s not like I’ve never thought about Marin having kids. Logically, I knew when she and Macon got engaged, this would happen. I guess I just hadn’t prepared myself for the type of emotions it might conjure up. When I saw her up there, elated and beaming with joy, I wanted to be happy, like everyone else. Instead, the first thought I had was, It should be Daniel standing there beside her. And then I got so angry with myself for even thinking it.” The words made my eyes sting, and I fought the wave of emotions threatening to take over. “God, I really am an awful friend.”

“No,” he argued. “You’re a good sister. One who still misses her brother.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, a myriad of images flooding my mind—sitting on the floor of Daniel’s room, listening to music; dropping him off on his first day of college; seeing his face when Marin walked down the aisle.

“He would have been an amazing dad,” I said. “He always thought Ocracoke would be a great place to raise kids.”

Zander grunted, and the deep sound vibrated against my chest. “I feel like I’m the wrong person to make that assessment.” He paused before adding, “But I don’t doubt Macon will do his damnedest to give his family everything we didn’t have.”

I looked up at him. “I love Macon,” I assured him. “I do.”

“You don’t have to convince me.” His eyes turned away.

“Your brother’s a good man, Zander.”

“I know,” he said quietly, pulling back. His arms dropped to his sides. “You okay to get dressed now? I made you a sandwich. Don’t say you’re not hungry.”

Still avoiding the Macon topic. Got it.

“Yeah, and thanks.” For everything.

“Anytime.”

We both knew that wasn’t true.

“So, is the PB and J, like, a specialty, or are you trained in other childhood delicacies?” I teased him as I sat cross-legged on the sofa.

Despite the dig, it was really good. The perfect balance of peanut butter and raspberry jam. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had something so simple and satisfying. Zander was on his second—or was it third?—sandwich while I was eating at a more leisurely pace and still nibbling on the first half of mine.

“That’s a lot of mocking for someone who didn’t say thank you.” He smirked.

And then I swore he shoved an entire half of a sandwich in his mouth.

That should not be adorable.

He’d changed after he left my room, switching out his all-black look for a fitted gray T-shirt and sweats. I’d never really been a big fan of sweats, always associating them with my father’s frumpy pajamas, but these were not your papa’s PJs. They hung low on his hips, and the tapered fit made his ass look fucking edible.

I’d tried not to stare when I came out of my bedroom and he walked out of the kitchen, carrying my sandwich.

But there might have been some blatant ogling—I wasn’t gonna lie.

His large body seemed to dwarf the oversize chair as he leaned over the coffee table and continued to inhale his dinner…snack? Whatever.

I attempted to cover my grin but failed miserably. “Thank you. I was actually hungry.”

“Clearly,” he mocked, motioning to my half-eaten sandwich.

“Not all of us have the metabolism of Superman,” I said. Or the body. “And the maid-of-honor dress I picked out is not forgiving, so I’m trying to behave.”

His gaze raked down my body. I was dressed down in yoga pants and a cropped fleece hoodie.

“I’m sorry I’m going to miss that.” His words sounded genuine. “But if the dress is anything like the one you wore tonight, I don’t think you’ll have any problem, Louie.” His eyes darkened, causing me to flush.

Part of me was relieved he wouldn’t be here. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could withstand this sexual tension between us.

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