Page 40 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
She chews her bottom lip for a second, then sighs. “I didn’t mean to make things messy.”
“You didn’t. I knew what I was doing.”
“I’m still not sure I did.”
The lake is stunning. Glassy surface. Mist curling along the water like breath. The dock stretches out in front of us, silvered with moisture and quiet as the trees that frame the far shore.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. “You want to talk about it?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Then she steps out onto the dock, slow, thoughtful.
I follow.
When we reach the end, she turns to face me. Her eyes are darker in this light. More serious. “Seven years ago,” she says. “You know I regretted that night.”
I nod once, fighting not to grit my teeth. Old hurts die harder when new ones bring back the memories. It’s like scar tissue getting sliced into. “I remember.”
“But not because of you.”
I stay still. Listening.
“I regretted what it meant. What it could’ve meant if Phil ever found out. I had just graduated high school. I didn’t think you took me seriously.”
My heart sinks as my mouth goes dry. “Parker, I did. I took every moment with you seriously.” Still do.
“I know that now,” she says, quietly. “But back then I thought I was just…stupid. A kid.”
“You weren’t stupid.”
She gives me a sad little smile. “I was scared. I still am.”
“I get that.”
“You really don’t,” she says. “You’re one ofthem—you and Gavin and Harrison. You’ve built something together. You’rerespected. Powerful. You don’t have to worry about losing everything with one mistake.”
I step closer. “You think I don’t?”
Her jaw tenses.
“Parker. That night seven years ago? I’ve thought about it a hundred times. Maybe more. I’ve never regretted a second of it. Not the kiss, not the bar’s bathroom stall, not the bed, not the way you looked at me when you said my name.”
Her lips part.
“What I regret is that you left without saying a real goodbye. That you looked at me likeIwas the mistake. That every time we’ve touched since your first day at VT, you’ve looked away like this doesn’t matter.”
She breathes out slowly. “Itdoesmatter.”
“I know.”
“I just didn’t think this through. I have kids. I have Phil to worry about. I have a job I can’t afford to lose.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” I say. “Because whatever happens with us, you’ll be taken care of. No matter what.”
She looks up at me, guarded. “That sounds like a promise you can’t keep.”
