Page 30 of Betting Brett

We walk side by side, the picnic basket Brett had prepared swinging between us.

We find a spot on the lush green grass under trees that provide just the right amount of shade. As we lay out the blanket and set up our picnic, I take not-so-sneaky admiring glances at Brett. He’s wearing a sky-blue t-shirt that hugs his biceps just right, with a pair of black shorts that show off his sexy muscular thighs. The man is perfect, always has been, and I can take an educated guess that to me, he always will be.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Brett says as he takes a seat. “Life is pretty wild, huh?”

I look at him, really look at him. The boy who’d raced me to the end of this very park, the teenager who’d tackled me during practice, is now the man who’s seen me, all of me, in ways I’d never imagined would actually happen but always dreamed of.

“It feels different, yet also weirdly the same,” I admit. The intensity of his gaze is a force, pulling me in, laying my soul bare right there on the picnic blanket next to the sandwiches and fruit bowl. “I look at you, and I see my best friend, the guy who knows me better than anyone. But now, there’s… more.”

Brett reaches out, his fingers intertwining with mine. I tense for a moment, understanding that we are out in public, but Brett’s nonchalant attitude helps ease those anxieties almost instantly. “More,” he echoes. “I never left Shafter Falls. You did. And yet, Andy, right now, with you beside me, it feels like coming home.”

The vulnerability and deep emotion in his voice strike a chord deep within me. We’re on the cusp of something profound, something that transcends the boundaries of friendship and ventures into the depths of the soul.

Holy shit.

Brett looks at me with those big, beautiful eyes of his. “Andy,” he begins, his voice tinged with something that makes my heart race, “these past weeks, everything that’s happened... it’s made me realize something.”

I watch him, holding my breath.

“I’ve fallen for you, Andy. Not as a friend, though God knows I value our friendship more than anything. But as something more. Something... deeper, way more intimate.”

The words hang in the air, charged with a gravity that anchors us to this moment, to this revelation.

“I want you, Andy—all of you. I want to wake up to your smile and go to bed to your laughter. I want you by my side, by Izzy’s side. You’ve shown me time and time again that you can be someone important in her life, someone she can look up to, and someone I can trust to take care of her and put her needs first. I want us, Andy. Together. How does that sound to you?”

The world stands still, like we’re suspended in time, the weight of his confession, the depth of my feelings, colliding. Like an orchestra, a rock concert, and a ballet all smashing together in my head.

“Brett,” I whisper, the words barely audible yet carrying the weight of a love that’s been silent for way too long. “I’ve been yours since the day we met. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. Every laugh, every fight, every moment we shared, it’s been leading us here. I’ll gladly be yours as long as you’ll be mine.”

He pulls me close, our lips meeting in a kiss that seals our declarations.

As Brett’s lips linger on mine, a feeling of completeness washes over me. It’s as if every piece of the puzzle of my life, even those I didn’t know were missing, have fallen into place. The kiss is the beginning of a new chapter, one written with the ink of a love that’s been years in the making. I feel like I’m floating. From the events of yesterday to now, it just all feels so unreal.

We pull away, our breaths mingling. I smile as the sun paints broad strokes of gold across Brett’s face, highlighting his strong cheekbones and jawline. Here in the park, surrounded by the echoes of our past and on the brink of our future, everything feels so fucking perfect.

But perfection, as we’ve both learned, can be a fleeting thing.

The distant rumble of a car engine intrudes upon our private moment. We turn almost in unison, our eyes drawn to the familiar vehicle making its way down the road adjacent to the park. The sinking feeling in my stomach is immediate, a cold contrast to the warmth of Brett’s hand still entwined with mine.

“Isn’t that...” My voice trails off, the question hanging in the air, heavy and ominous.

“My mother,” Brett finishes for me, his voice steady, but I can feel the slight tremor in his hand. Darlene. The woman who represents a threat to the beautiful, fragile world we’re building even though she should have been one of the strongest foundations to it. Determined to make us pay for being happy. How did that make any sense? And why?

She drives away, leaving a trail of dust in her wake. The silence between us is no longer comfortable. It’s charged with the unsaid words, the ‘what ifs’ and ‘what nows.’

“We need to talk about her, Brett,” I tell him, worry making my voice sharper than I intend.

He’s silent for a moment, his gaze following the trail of the car until it disappears from view. When he looks back at me, his eyes are a mix of emotions - defiance, concern, but mostly, a determination that I associate with the Brett who faces challenges head-on. Always looking at the positive, never letting himself get held back.

“Nothing she can do or say is going to change my mind, Andy,” he says firmly. “This,” he gestures between us, “is not something I’m willing to give up.”

We pack up our picnic, the movements mechanical, the joy of the moment before tainted by the specter of Darlene’s disapproval. Of what she could potentially do. I had a thousand different questions but didn’t want to ask any of them. I knew Brett didn’t have the answers. Each fold of the blanket and each item placed back in the basket feels heavier than when they were taken out.

“I know, Brett,” I say. “But it’s not just us. There’s Izzy to think about. We can’t just...”

“I know,” he cuts me off. He understands I can tell by his expression. The complexities, the potential fallout, they’re not lost on him. “But we’ll face whatever happens together, Andy. Just like we always have.”

His reassurance, the firmness in his tone, is a balm to the storm of anxieties raging within me. Yet, as we make our way back to the car, I can’t shake off the feeling of impending confrontation. And I really hate confrontation.

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