Page 152 of Vegas Heat

Her brows dip.

“You stay here with Connor,” I say. “Mom and I will go pick them up from the bus stop and take them home. We’ll let them know what’s going on, and we’ll answer their questions. We’ll make sure they’re safe and taken care of.”

Marissa cries a little harder for a second before she sucks in a deep breath. “How are you still single?”

My mom laughs, and I roll my eyes.

“What?” she says. “You’re just so…” she trails off as she searches for the right word. “Good. Wholesome. Kind. And if you weren’t like a little brother to me, I might even say good looking.”

“Good looking?” I repeat, wrinkling my nose. It’s a far cry from Hottie McCuteStuff, as Gabby once referred to me.

Gabby.

My chest tightens. She’s never far from my thoughts, yet in this moment, her appearance front and center feels somehow gut wrenching.

It’s gut wrenching that she isn’t here with me…that shecan’tbe here with me.

It’s gut wrenching that she’s twelve years my junior and my best friend’s daughter.

It’s gut wrenching that she doesn’t want the same future at the same time I want it.

Are our worlds and our lives just too far apart, or can we really find a way to make this work?

That’s the question on my mind as we finish up lunch and return our trays. It’s the question that plagues me as I make small talk with my mom on the way to pick up the boys. It stays with me as we feed them dinner and as they video chat with their dad and as I settle into bed in the guest room.

And once I’m there, settled in under the sheets and blankets that are already making me way too hot, exhausted from getting no sleep last night but knowing I need to have this conversation anyway or I’ll be in for a restless night…it’s time to finally ask the question to maybe the only other person who can help me answer it.

CHAPTER 20: GABBY

I haven’t heard from him since this morning. He sent one text shortly after he arrived to let me know he landed, but otherwise I guess he’s been occupied today.

A two-hour time difference separates us, and it’s a little after eight when my phone finally rings.

I answer immediately. “Cooper?”

“Hey,” he says. He sounds exhausted.

“How’s your brother?”

“He’ll be okay,” he says. “He’s got to change the way he does things, but he’ll be all right. They’re moving him from the cardiac unit to a step-down unit where the care isn’t quite as intensive. They think another day or two before they’ll spring him.”

“That’s great news. And how are you?”

“I’ve been better,” he admits.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” I settle back into the couch, getting comfortable for our chat.

“No. I tried to close my eyes on the plane, but it was useless.”

“Go to bed, babe. We can talk tomorrow,” I say.

“Nah, I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”

“How come?” I press, and as soon as the answer comes—in the form of another question—I immediately wish I hadn’t pressed.

“Are our lives just too far apart, or do you really think we can find a way to make this work?” he asks. His voice is soft and full of regret.

I gasp at the question. I guess it wasn’t what I was expecting. I’d be stupid to ask what’s bringing this on since I can guess,but I ask it anyway. “What makes you think our lives are too far apart?”

---