Page 16 of I Choose You

Her words are strained. Almost forlorn. “How long?” The sadness in her voice is bone deep, and I hate it.

“About two months.”

A fire of emotion rages in her candy-apple irises when she looks over, and I wish I could put it out, but instead, she puts up a wall that prevents me from doing so. Just like that, I’m left wondering how it’ll be when I have to say farewell, when I pack my belongings and board my flight.

If this is anything to go by, it’s going to be fucking horrendous.

7

Mackenzie

“How’s your collarbone?” My face scrunches in a wince behind the kitchen island. After Luke realized we were gone last night, he came to find us, then chucked the television remote at Mason and me from the doorway.

Mason moved quickly to prevent it from hitting either of us, but the remote traveled faster than he considered, causing it to connect with his collarbone. Luke’s oh shit, are you okay that came quickly after, made it clear he only did it in jest, but Mason was too upset to care about apologies at that point.

Mason is, by no means, the harsher of the Sacks brothers. He operates on kindness, decency and thoughtfulness. Not that Luke doesn’t have those qualities, but if one of them were to lose their shit…well, it would be Luke, so I can’t say I blame him for being pissy over Luke’s actions.

He rubs the sleep from his face, then combs a hand through his messy bedhead. My fingers itch to do the same even after the bomb he dropped on me last night. Knowing he’s officially moving does little regarding the pull I have when we’re in the same room. And it’s a major issue. One I need to rectify sooner than later—and without him knowing.

“Bruised thanks to my asshole brother. Where is he, anyway?” He walks around the island, then leans against the counter next to me. The same flannel lounge pants he’s worn for years hang on his hips. The corded muscles on his forearms constrict when he lifts each arm over his head to stretch.

I’m curious to see how nasty the bruise is, so I reach and tug the collar of his shirt to the side. My face twists up when I see the aftermath of Luke’s playful behavior gone wrong. The worst shades of black and blue dot his skin.

“Looks worse than it feels,” he says when he notices me flinch. He glances over to what I’m tending to. “Did you just get back? Wasn’t it Luke’s weekend to pick up?”

Weekend brunches have been a tradition for us since we were in college. It was our way of getting to see each other when our classes and professors tried everything to keep us apart. Every other weekend, we gather in the kitchen after getting a plethora of take-out from eateries we love. We make a brunch buffet, then put the leftovers in the fridge for the rest of the week.

It was Luke’s turn this week to pick up, but I thought it was the least I could do after we left him to watch his baseball game alone. “I’m hoping it keeps him from pegging remotes at you in the near future. Grab the next box,” I tell him as I toss an empty donut box on the floor at my feet. I grab a serving plate from the cabinet, and he places the box from Battered Dog next to it. Inside is a row of what looks like corn dogs, but they’re waffle-battered sausages on sticks. They’re Heaven in your mouth and Mason’s favorite.

The second his green stare locks onto them, he perks up. His nostrils flare when he takes in a lungful of the savory smell, and his lids turn heavy as he closes them in anticipation of tasting one.

My stomach dips when he groans in delight, like when you quickly drive down a sloped road. “Don’t even think about it,” I say in warning, ignoring the internal tug below my waist. “You know the rules.”

He tips his head back, grins, then sniffs again. “God, those smell so damn good.”

My breath catches when he crowds my side, his chest pressing against my arm, even more so when his hand lands on my opposite shoulder and slides to my hip. His breath fans across and down my neck, slipping underneath my shirt to induce a trail of goosebumps to pebble on my skin. “I’m asking for one, Kenz. One. Do I have to get down on my knees and beg?” His fingertips squeeze into me, and I swear my lungs can’t process the relieving effects of oxygen, especially when his voice turns gravelly. “Because I will if I have to.”

Somehow, my brain manages to work even though my body is stiff from the overwhelming feeling of him being so close. As much as I don’t want to admit it, my body forces me to recognize how gratifying it is having him near, even if it is only because of his love for these fried sticks and not necessarily because he enjoys the closeness. I try to breathe through the overpowering emotion, though all I can focus on is the warmth of his palm squeezing through the tightly woven threads of my shirt. “No snatching before brunch officially starts.”

He moves away just enough to pull the collar of his shirt away from his body for me to see his bruise again. “I’m injured. That must earn me some kind of special treatment. You’re tormenting me, and for what? It’s unfair.” His shirt slips back into place, and like a second ago, he moves back into my space.

I should push him away, create a gap between us, but I’m weak. I already keep my heart in a lockbox. This little bit of attention can’t hurt the lack of affection I’ve gotten. I mean, will my heart want to break free at the thought of getting more of it? Probably, but I don’t plan on giving in to anything more than whatever this is. “Take it out on Luke then.” I try to keep my voice light, but I notice the tremble in it. It wouldn’t take much to let go when it comes to Mason, and that’s what’s worrisome. “They stay here until everyone is present.”

He pouts near the shell of my ear, an annoyed groan snug in my ear canal when I roll my lips into my mouth to hide my grin. “Oh, he’s going to get it back,” he promises. “I’m going to eat all these damn things before he has the chance to get one.” Then he pulls away, his hand and body heat leaving me as he leans back against the counter next to me.

I purse my lips and arch a brow as I begin positioning our food on the serving plate to look like a waffle stick flower, the center a pitcher of syrup. “How’s that fair to me? That means I miss out, too.”

In the most nonchalant manner, he shrugs a shoulder and crosses his arms, his gaze shifting back to the plate as if I’m not standing in front of it. Like an animal, he’s nearly salivating over what’s on the counter. “Consequences for not sharing.” He looks at me. “You get lumped in with my ass of a brother.”

Bothered by his remark, I smack at his arm playfully and scoff. “You’re rude.” I turn to toss the box from the waffle sticks on the floor. While I’m distracted, his hand darts toward the plate, and I catch it out of the corner of my eye. “Mason!” I nag, smacking at his arm as he twists the stick between his fingers. “What did I say?”

“Sorry, Kenz, can’t hold out,” he concedes, eyeing the one he was lucky enough to grab. These things are fucking amazing, and I haven’t eaten since, like, five o’clock yesterday.”

To protect the rest of them from his greedy fingers, I push the plate toward the center of the island and turn to prop a hand on my hip. “Whose fault is that?”

He waves the corn dog look-a-like in front of his face. “Listen up. You’re talking to me right now, but I’m about to devour this thing in one bite. It’s likely I won’t be able to process what you’re saying once I start chewing.”

Before he can sink his teeth in, I hurtle forward to grab his wrist, my eyes turning to slits as I move into his personal space. “Drop. It.” My brow arches on its own, and my heart raves over the heat that radiates from him.

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