Page 80 of Only Between Us

It’s under the coverage of the running tap in Mom’s kitchen and Carla’s vivacious laugh in the living room that I let myself whisper, “Don’t tell your mom this. But I think I like my pretend boyfriend. And I don’t think we’re pretending anymore.”

From the floor, Rosie blows a raspberry.

“Ouch. Tough crowd.” I straighten in time to catch Shy sneaking a bite of cheddar off the cheese board we’ve been putting together for our parents.

“In today’s most predictable news,” she says, deepening her voice like she’s reading off the six-o’clock news. “But I’m impressed you admitted it out loud.”

I throw my hair up into a mess of a bun. Not because I rode my bike here—Brooks still insists on keeping my helmet in his possession, though we’ve taken the bike out together a couple more times since the evening on the cliffside. But my body temperature has skyrocketed with the confession.

“I’ve never been one for inner thoughts. Not around you, anyway.” I cinch the hair tie before picking up a knife and slicing through some more cheese. I sneak Rosie a bite as she uses my skirt to clumsilystand up. “And was it really that predictable? He called me a stalker the day we met.”

“After staring at you like his favorite slice of cake on that field. Like, lick-the-plate-when-he’s-finished-and-leave-no-crumbs-behind kind of staring.”

“I’d rather be the plate in this scenario.”

Shy lifts Rosie to sit up on the counter. “Except you’re still not sleeping together.”

I point at her with the tip of my knife. “Correct. I can’t stop my heart from acting a fool, but I can definitely keep this pussy on lock.” I look down at my crotch. “Sorry. I’ll let you off the leash soon, I promise.”

“With your not-pretend boyfriend.”

I tip my head from side to side. The gesture is noncommittal, but damn if things shifting with Brooks doesn’t feel… inevitable.

There’s only so many times I can cycle through the contents of my bedside drawer before needing something better than silicone. Needing to bring to life those fantasies of his inked-up body moving above me. The way we might curl up together after, his strong arms around me as we drift off to sleep…

Not that I’d allow that. Post-coitus cuddling would be a hard limit in the event of a hookup. Fortunately, I have a proven ability to manage casual sex. Because this could go no further. Not with the man working on shipping himself to the other end of the country.

My knife goes down on the counter. “This is all a little… familiar, isn’t it? Dating a guy on the verge of leaving? I don’t know how I ended up here twice.”

Shy pulls a sympathetic face. She’d been my rock in the months following Tom’s trade to the Ravens. I’d clung to her extra tight as my relationship fizzled, my abandonment issues on humiliating display.

By the time he’d left, Dad had died, and I wasn’t exactly free to fly across the country at all times while running a business. Tom likedLA so much, he stayed there in his off-season. We were stuck in a never-ending game of phone tag as he built a whole life out there without me. Even when I could visit, I felt so out of place.

I was practically begging for Tom’s attention by the time I finally ended the relationship. The same way I’d spent my childhood begging for my birth parents’ attention, before they moved on without me.

And here’s Brooks, with a built-in life on the West Coast. A home, teammates, and friends. His parents. His sister and nephew. It’ll be so easy for him to fall back into his life there.

I can’t. I just can’t put myself through that again, no matter what I feel for him.

“Maybe this is a nonissue.” Shy stares off thoughtfully. “How likely is it he gets signed out there?”

“Likely, if his agent has anything to do with it. He’s brought on a publicist to help with all the fake-relationship rumors.” All that aside, the Rebels would be crazy not to sign him. I know Brooks is worried about it, constantly running himself ragged with training, but he looks better than ever. I’d know, having watched him play with Dad until his retirement.

I rinse off my hands but leave the tap on when I finish to cover our conversation. I watch Shy adjust Rosie’s blond pigtails. She’s got to be the cutest little girl I’ve ever seen. Perfectly cherubic, always smiling. Dressed to the nines in glittery sandals I wish my feet could fit in.

Her mom, though? She looks tired.Exhausted. Shy’s wrapped herself in a baggy cardigan over her leggings, blond hair loose but a little frazzled. There are dark circles under her eyes, and now I feel guilty for complaining. Maybe I’m headed for heartbreak, but Shy’s stress levels have been through the roof with Max away.

“How’re you doing, Shy? Getting enough sleep?”

“Sleep?” Shy laughs and hands Rosie a piece of cheddar. “She’s started sobbing every night at two in the morning, like clockwork. Refuses to go back to sleep unless she’s in my bed. Don’t you, Ro?”

“Yah!” Rosie gives us both a proud, toothy smile.

I wrap my arms around Shy. “Why don’t you ever call me when you need a break? You know I love hanging out with my girl.”

“We’ve been okay. Really. My parents have stepped up.” Shy stares down at the counter for a quiet moment. “You want to know the truth? She wakes me up at two in the morning, but the kicker is that I’m pretty much guaranteed to have stayed up until then anyway, just worrying. This thing she does now… She calls every guy we come acrossDaddy. It kills me, Cee. We get on the phone with him as much as we can, but it’s not the same. She misses Max so much. I’m terrified it’ll mess her up long-term.”

“Daddy!” Rosie chirps, flailing her head from side to side and making her pigtails flutter.

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