“Rylie.”
His voice is so real. I want to hear him say my name over and over again.
“Rylie.” This time it’s barked out, borderline angrily.
Turning in bed, I lock eyes with the concerned ones of my brother. Like glowing green orbs in the darkened bedroom.
“What are you doing? It’s spring break. You should be out doing things,” he mutters, his voice husky.
I shrug. “We were supposed to spend the break together doing things. Without you, I have no one to do them with.”
He frowns and sits on the edge of my bed. So close. I could reach out and link my fingers with his. But I don’t. He’s drawn the line in the sand and he wants me to stay on my side.
In another life…
This life requires lines.
This life says we must obey laws.
He reaches over and grabs my hand. “Rylie.”
I’m focused on the strength and heat emanating from his grip. The way he holds me in an intimate way despite the line he drew. My heart flutters inside me.
“Hudson.”
“Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you to a movie or something. You need to get out of bed,” he says, his thumb swiping over the back of my hand. Chills race up my arm from his touch and I shudder. He seems to think I’m cold because he lets go of my hand long enough to curl up beside me on the bed. A strong, warm, heavy arm drapes over my waist. Now that we’re so close, just inches away, I could almost kiss him. The line he drew has already been crossed.
I reach up to touch his face and he winces. It’s enough to have me jerking it back and balling my hand into a fist.
“How’s Amy?” I ask coolly.
He lets out a sigh. “She’s fine.”
“Back together and happily ever after on the horizon?”
“Hardly.” He chuckles. “She surprised us both, Ry. Cried, yes, but give in? Nope. She says I have some soul searching to do. That maybe I need to get out there and see other people too. Then, once I’ve had my fill, she’ll be waiting. She said she doesn’t want me to always feel like I never had a chance to date and experience other women.”
I lift my brows in surprise. “So you’re…”
“Still seeing each other but also seeing other people.”
“Like the girl from school?”
“Jada? I don’t know. I mean, she’s nice, but…” he drifts off.
But you want me instead?
I glance up to meet his intense stare. “But what?”
“But that won’t make me happy.” He frowns. “I’m struggling here.” His palm cups my cheek and he runs his thumb along my cheek. “I know what I want…”
Me. He wants me.
“I’m tired,” I whisper tearfully.
Tired of this fight. Tired of the sadness. Tired of a life where the design wasn’t clean and neat, but messy and fragmented. I’m just tired.
“I know you are,” he murmurs. He leans forward and kisses my forehead.