Page 9 of Rushing Into Love

“Really? That’s all you know?” He put air quotes around the last part, shaking his head. “What’s she look like that’s got you, Mr. Single-For-As-Long-As-I-Live, so interested?”

I debated exactly how much to share and decided I could trust him. “She’s hot, man,” I finally admitted, grinning. “She’s straight outta Cali--long, wavy hair, beachy-looking. Great legs, a banging bod.” My voice trailed off as I thought back to Bree sitting at practice, tanned legs stretched out on the bleachers.

“Easy there, little brother, or you’re gonna have to go take a cold shower,” Quinn smirked. “She sounds hot. When can I meet her?”

Neverimmediately popped into my head. I did not want Bree getting interested in my older brother or vice versa. Sibling rivalry died hard.

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t even have her number.”

“Yet,” Quinn said. “I’m sure you’ll get it tomorrow.”

That had been my plan, I admitted, if only to myself.

“I’ll see how it goes. I’ll let you know.”

“’k. Piece of advice, little brother?” His tone was serious now. I looked at him over my bottle, green glass glinting in the moonlight.

“Yeah?”

“Go slow. You cannot afford another Shayna Bowman.”

I blanched at her name, my stomach clenching. I hated that he’d reminded me of my single greatest screw-up, but knew he came from a good place. Scuffing my shoe on the ground, I swallowed hard over the lump in my throat.

“I know. Got it. Thanks, brother.”

We locked eyes in a brief moment of solidarity, McCauliffe brothers against the world. At least my brother and I were on the same team.

3

Bree

“How’s the knee?” My sister handed me a fresh ice pack and I gladly accepted, winding it around my swollen and rapidly-turning-purple knee.

We were sitting on the couch in her formal living room. Brooklyn and her husband were the only people I knew who legit used their ‘formal living space.’ Honestly, they were the only people I knew whohada formal living space. Most of my LA friends had tiny bungalow apartments, way too small to accommodate anything fancy. To Brooklyn’s credit, the room was beautiful and inviting, with Wedgewood blue walls and plush white (!) armchairs and matching couch. I felt kind of bad elevating my knee on her expensive marble coffee table, but she’d assured me it was fine.

“The knee’s okay. Hurts.” I sipped my Chardonnay, hoping to dull the pain a little.

“Probably a good thing you’re going into the clinic tomorrow. Ryder should take a look at it.” Brooklyn situated herself opposite me in one of the wingback chairs, curling her legs up under her. “Least he could do, since you got tackled on his watch.”

“It wasn’t his fault. At all, really,” I pointed out. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Or the kid wasn’t, not quite sure, it all happened so fast.” I took a deep breath and leaned my head back against the couch. A dull ache thudded behind my eyes; I hoped it was just jet lag, not the beginnings of a migraine, or worse, a concussion.

“He’s cute, though, right?” Brooklyn’s eyes twinkled in the soft lamplight.

I giggled, but it turned into a sigh.

“What’s that for?” Brooks asked, raising her eyebrows at me. “Don’t tell me this is about Pax.” She clucked like a mother hen, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Of course it’s about him!” I threw my hands up in the air, agitated. “Oww.”

Readjusting my knee, I took a few deep, calming breaths. “I’m in a terrible situation, Brooks.” I rubbed my eyes, massaging my temples, willing myself to stay calm, problem solve, like I was constantly telling my clients.

“Bree, he cheated on you—is cheating on you—with a B-list actress,” she pointed out in a big-sister, matter-of-fact tone. “You obviously cannot stay with that jerk. You don’t have to make every relationship work, you know.”

I winced. “Did you have to bring up the B-list part? Maybe if she were an A-lister, I could move past this.” I rolled my eyes in disgust. “But you see my predicament, right? I’m arelationship expert,” I emphasized the words; the irony was not lost on me. “I’m supposed to be the one who knows what to do, sees these sorts of things coming. I’ll look like a fool! If the news breaks…” I murmured, picturing the potential headlines again.

“But it shouldn’t. You broke up with him, right?”

I nodded. “Well, I tried, at the very least. I left a very firm voicemail. Well, semi-firm...”

---