Page 26 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

"I won't jump into anything with you. Cade and I just broke up and—"

I want to tell her it can be our secret, that I won't tell a fucking soul if that means I get to hold her like this. But I know what a woman like Hannah would say. She'd tell me she can't be kept in the dark, that she deserves to be in the light. That she needs to be pursued the right way, not treated like a hook up.

But she's not just a hook up. Not to me. She's the first and only thing I've wanted in a long time. Now that I have her in front of me, I don't want to let her go.

A sharp knock on the door makes her jump back, yanking herself from my grasp.

"You need to hide," she whispers urgently, pointing to her closet. "Right fucking now!"

Chapter 9

"Get in there," I hiss, shoving Sanderson toward my closet with both palms flat against his chest.

He resists, not budging an inch despite my efforts. His eyes drop to where my hands press against him, and I swear I feel his muscles flex under my touch. The audacity of this man, flexing while I'm trying to hide him before my life implodes completely.

"Sanderson, now," I whisper-shout, giving him another push.

He finally complies, stepping backward into the narrow space, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I pull the door shut, my heart thundering in my ribcage.

"One second!" I call out, turning my back to the closet as I fumble for my bra on the floor next to my bed. I slide it on underneath my t-shirt, not bothering with the straps—just needing to cover myself enough to be decent. The entire time, I'm acutely aware of Sanderson's presence just feet away. Is he watching through the slats in the door? Is he listening to the rustle of fabric? The thought makes my cheeks burn.

I cross to the door and pull it open, feeling the blood drain from my face as I see who's standing there.

Cade.

"Thought you said you weren't home?" His eyes narrow slightly, taking in my disheveled appearance.

I shrug as nonchalantly as possible while he walks past me into the room. I laugh nervously. "I just got back."

Cade glances at the textbooks and notes scattered across my bed, evidence that I've been here for hours. "You're lying," he says, turning to face me.

"Actually, you're right," I admit, deciding a partial truth is better than digging myself deeper. "I lied. I'm home. Happy?"

I walk past him and perch on the edge of my bed, trying to appear casual, as if his brother isn't currently hiding in my closet. "Why are you here?"

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. "You know, don't you?"

"Know what?" I ask, genuine confusion mixing with my anxiety.

"Don't play dumb, please. This is already hard enough."

Tears well in my eyes. Is he about to confirm what Sanderson tried to tell me? To devastate me further than I already am? How long has he been cheating? Has our entire relationship been a lie?

"Cade, I don't—"

"Save it," he cuts me off sharply. "Who told you?"

"Told me what!" I stand, frustration overriding my fear.

He presses his palms against my dresser, exhaling slowly. "About that night."

"What night?" My voice rises in pitch, the tension in the room building to an unbearable level.

He presses his lips together, thinking too deeply for too long.

"You need to tell me," I say, tears now falling freely. I'm shocked by how much this hurts, how much I still care despite everything. Two months shouldn't be enough time to feel this depth of pain. And yet here I am, breaking all over again as I stare into his eyes, realizing just how much I had genuinely liked him.

When he remains silent, I press further. "Did you do something, Cade?"

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