Page 4 of The Breaking Point

“Stay away from him,” he said suddenly.

I stopped in my tracks. “Who? Brady?” I let out an incredulous laugh. “Dad, he’s practically family!”

“He’s not your brother. Never has been.” When I was about to protest, Dad put up a hand. “I’m not saying he isn’t family. He’s like a son to me and your mother. But as far as being your brother ...” Dad grimaced. “You know what I mean.”

I blushed harder. Mom and Dad had been all too aware of my unrequited crush on Brady back in the day. But I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I was an adult.

“I’m not Brady’s type,” I said, even as my own words made my stomach sink.

Dad snorted. “You’re a woman. You’re his type. Which means you need to be on your guard.”

“If he’s such a bad guy, why did you even let him on the team?” I snapped, annoyed now.

To my irritation, Dad just shook his head. “He’s not a bad guy, but he’s not the guy foryou.You’re a smart girl, Gracie. I don’t want you to throw yourself away on a guy who doesn’t deserve you.”

“Well, Brady didn’t even know I was back in town, so I doubt he’s been dying to jump my bones.”

Dad scowled. “Enough of this talk. I’ll see you back home. And don’t drive too fast, and be careful merging onto the interstate—”

I held up a hand, laughing now, then gave Dad a kiss, leaving him grumbling as I drove away.

Since I’d only just moved back to LA and rent was absurdly expensive, I’d decided to move back in with my parents for a time. Although I didn’t love being under their roof—and their rules—it was better than living with five roommates in a two-bedroom apartment just to make rent.

But being back in my old room, which hadn’t changed since I’d gone to college, felt strange. I’d only been in it for about a year and a half before I’d left for college, but I’d still left a lot of stuff behind.

The walls were still a bright magenta that my mom had surprised me with. I hadn’t had the heart to tell her that that was no longer my favorite color when we’d moved in.

Worse, my bed still had the ruffled duvet set I’d begged Mom to get me when I’d been fourteen and living at the old house in Las Vegas. It’d come along to the new house, but by the time I was sixteen, I’d felt like I’d outgrown it. The overall color schemeand ruffles made the room look especially childish, and I winced a little as I took it all in.

Old makeup and hair accessories filled the vanity I’d used as a teenager; the bookcase was similarly filled with romance novels I’d inhaled at the time. I even found my old MP3 player in my nightstand and had been pleasantly surprised to discover it still worked. I’d listened to a few of my favorite songs from back then until the walk down memory lane became too much.

Thinking about my adolescence meant thinking about my older brother. And it meant thinking about Brady Carmichael.

The first time I saw Brady—I’d been twelve years old—I’d known he’d change my life. Perhaps not in the way that I’d expected, but I’d known, even at a young age, that Brady was special.

It’d helped that, even at fourteen, Brady had been handsome. When many of the other boys in his ninth-grade class had yet to go through full puberty, Brady looked older than his age. He’d been tall and muscular; he’d even had patchy facial hair, which I’d thought made him intimidating at the time. Even Ben hadn’t had much facial hair despite being older than Brady.

Oh, Ben. I wish you were here right now. You’d know what to do.

Kneeling on the rug in front of my old bed, I rummaged underneath to find a shoebox that I’d decorated in junior high. Inside was a collection of drawings, letters, sticker books, and even an old BFFs FOREVER necklace that my best friend Heather had given me in eighth grade.

The letters were all ones I’d written to Brady but had never given him. I read the first one, chuckling at the excessive use of hearts in dotting my i’s.

I even signed the letter asYours for all eternity, through every lifetime, until the sun goes dark and the stars fall from the sky.I laughed aloud at that one. I had a flair for the dramatic,that was for sure. Then again, I tended to imagine Brady as a dashing knight who’d someday whisk me away to his castle.

I found the letter I was searching for at the bottom of the box. It was folded into a thick but tiny square that you only ever did when the information inside was top secret.

Dear Brady,I’d written,you’re probably surprised that I’m writing you a letter instead of just talking to you.

But I don’t know how to say what I need to say. Do you know how I feel about you?

Sometimes I think you do know. But other times, it’s like you don’t see me as anything other than a little sister. I’m not your sister, though.

I’m in love with you, Brady Carmichael. In LOVE. With YOU!

And I wanted to ask you something ... would you be my first?

My first ... You know what I mean, right?

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