Page 96 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

Eventually, reluctantly, I gather my scattered clothing, each piece a step back toward the outside world. He watches from the bed, propped up on one elbow, making no effort to hide his appreciation of the view.

"Like what you see, Sanderson?" I tease, pulling on my jeans.

"Very much," he confirms with a lazy smile. "Though I prefer the version without clothes."

I throw his shirt at him, laughing. "Get dressed. You promised to take me home, remember?"

"Worst promise I ever made," he grumbles, but he obeys, sliding from the bed with graceful economy of movement.

Once dressed, he pulls me close for one more lingering kiss. "Sure I can't convince you to stay?" he asks against my lips. "We can wake up early."

"Tempting," I say. "But not tonight. Rain check?"

"I'm holding you to that," he warns, then takes my hand as we leave his room.

The drive back to my dorm is quiet, comfortable. His hand finds mine across the center console, our fingers intertwined in a gesture that feels as intimate as anything we shared in his bed. At my building, he puts the car in park but leaves the engine running, a silent acknowledgment that the night is ending.

"Thank you for dinner," I say, suddenly shy. "And for…everything."

His smile is soft in the dim light of the parking lot. "My pleasure. Literally."

I laugh, the momentary awkwardness broken. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." He leans across to kiss me goodbye, a gentle press of lips that carries promise rather than demand. "Sweet dreams, Hannah."

"Sweet dreams, James," I reply, liking the way his real name feels in my mouth, the intimacy of this small privilege.

I watch him drive away before heading inside, my body pleasantly tired, my mind surprisingly clear. In my room, I go through my nightly routine on autopilot, replaying moments from the evening as I brush my teeth, wash my face, change into pajamas that feel strangely inadequate after the warmth of his arms.

As I slide beneath my own sheets, I realize what's different—I'm happy. Not the fleeting happiness of a good grade or a perfect cup of coffee, but something deeper, more substantial. A contentment that settles in my bones, that makes my solitary twin bed feel less empty because I know exactly whose arms I want around me, even if they're not here tonight.

I'm falling for him.

The realization should terrify me. It's too soon, too complicated, too contrary to everything I thought I wanted. Instead, it feels like discovering a truth that was waiting for me all along—once seen, impossible to unsee.

Chapter 26

Morning light filters through my blinds, warming patches of empty bed beside me. The absence of Hannah is physical, a hollow space where her warmth should be. I reach for my phone before I'm fully awake, typing out a message with sleep-clumsy fingers.

Morning. My bed feels too big without you in it.

Sappy, maybe, but honest. I've never been one to miss someone's presence, to wake up wanting anything but coffee and solitude. But Hannah has changed that.

I don't wait for her response, dragging myself out of bed and into the shower. Under the hot spray, I replay last night—Hannah in my apartment, her curious eyes taking in the space I've created for myself, the way she looked curled up in my bed like she belonged there. The memory is enough to make me consider skipping morning practice, something I haven't done since freshman year.

Instead, I finish my shower and throw on a pair of shorts, planning the rest of my morning—protein shake, quick review of game film, then practice at nine.

A distinctive knock interrupts my thoughts—three quick raps, pause, two more. Only one person knocks like that.

Cade.

I hesitate, hand on the doorknob. We haven't spoken since the fight, and I'm not sure I'm ready for whatever conversation awaits on the other side of this door. But avoiding him won't fix anything, and if Hannah and I are going to have any real chance, I need to address the Cade-shaped elephant in the room.

I pull the door open, steeling myself.

Cade stands in the hallway, dressed in khakis and a button-down, his hair neatly combed, an odd smile playing at his lips. He looks like he's heading to a job interview, not stopping by his estranged brother's apartment at 7 AM.

"Hey," he says, the greeting awkwardly bright. "Got a minute?"

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