Page 6 of Stuffed

"Some things don't change.”

"But people do."

“I love you, little bro, but you need to stop being so damn naive. You trust people too much and we both know this world is fucking ruthless.”

He shakes his head with a defeated sigh, like he always does whenever the conversation turns this direction. He heads for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. "You know what I think? I think you're not afraid she deserves better. I think you're afraid she'll actually want you—the real you. And then you'll have to stop hiding behind those walls you've built."

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with thoughts I've spent years trying to bury. Memories of blond hair and bright smiles. Of watching her from a distance, wanting what I couldn't have.

But Asher's right—she's not that girl anymore. She's a woman now, successful and confident and sexy as hell. A woman who stood up to me tonight, who pushed back against my walls like they were made of paper. A woman who looks at me like she sees something worth wanting that has nothing to do with money and power.

I reach for the scotch again but stop myself. Liquid courage isn't what I need right now. What I need is to figure out how to keep my distance when everything in me is screaming to go find her.

Because if I'm honest with myself—really honest—Asher’s right. I'm not worried she deserves better than me. I’m terrified she'll realize I'm exactly what she's been looking for all along.

And then what the fuck am I supposed to do with these walls I've built?

I haveno idea how long I’ve been wallowing on my couch once I manage to make it home from the party, but my phone buzzes in my pocket—bringing me back to reality. I’m tempted to ignore it. It’s probably Asher, wanting to dissect the party, to talk about investors and deals. But when I pull it out, there's a notification from an unknown number.

Unknown

Just wanted to make sure you got home okay. The snow's getting pretty bad out there. - T

“T,” I say aloud. “Tessa.”

I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen. How the hell did she get my number? Asher, probably. He's always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.

I should ignore it. That would be the smart thing to do—maintain the distance, keep the walls up. But something makes me type out a response.

Me

I'm fine. How did you get this number?

Her reply comes almost immediately, I barely have time to save her as a new contact.

Tessa

Your brother might have slipped it to me. Don't be mad at him—I can be very persuasive when I want to be.

I can almost hear her voice, that teasing lilt she gets when she's being playful. I imagine her dragging her teeth across those full, pouty lips. Despite the mood that darkened my mind only a minute ago, I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I glance at the clock.

Me

I'm sure you can be. But that doesn't mean you should be texting me at midnight.

I’m tempted, so tempted to say something a lot more suggestive, but I pass.

Three dots appear, disappear, appear again. Finally, her reply appears.

Tessa

You're right. I'll leave you alone. But just so you know, Ivy and I will be at the bakery we’re trying to buy at seven a.m. tomorrow if you're interested in the best cinnamon rolls in the city. Our realtor is letting us test it out. No pressure, though.

I run a hand over my face, feeling that familiar tug-of-war inside me. Part of me wants to shut this down now, before it goes any further. But another part—a part I've been ignoring for too long—wants to see where this might lead.

Me

I'll think about it.

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