Page 55 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I slide it forward, situating it next to the others, then move to hop down from the truck. “Looks like we had just enough room.”
Brody lifts his hands up to help me down, and I lean onto his shoulders, letting him guide my jump with his hands on my waist. Only, when I hit the ground, he doesn’t let go.
And I don’t let go.
We just stand there, arms around each other, staring into each other’s eyes.
The afternoon sun is slanting low in the sky, hiding behind the trees. Birds are chirping overhead, cicadas are humming, a lawnmower is running somewhere in the distance. All of it fades to a distant hum, faint compared to the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.
Brody was always the one who could read my mood just by looking at me, detect how I was feeling faster than anyone else. But right now, he’s the one with his emotions crawling all overhis face. He’s just as conflicted as I am. Because let me tell you, I amconflictedwith a capital C.
There is something deliciously right about being in Brody’s arms. Here, I am safe. Comfortable. Completely at home.
But I also feelcharged.Like all my nerve endings are on fire, except the heat is exhilarating instead of painful. I am aware of every inch of him, every place that he is pressed against me. I feel the touch of each individual finger, the gentle strength of his grip on my waist branding me, claiming me.
Iwantthat. To belong to him.
But I also can’t shake the feeling that I am not who Brody needs or deserves. Brody needs someone in Silver Creek. He needs someone reliable. Someone who isn’t a flight risk. I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to know if I’m even capable of being reliable. I’ve come close a time or two. Stayed somewhere long enough for people to start needing me around. And that’s generally my cue to start looking for my next adventure. Leaving is easier than being needed. It’s easier thanneeding.
Kristyn is always telling me that my parents’ failed relationship doesn’t have to dictate my own ability to have a successful one. But that’s easier said than done. And Brody is too important to me to risk what we have because Imightbe capable.
But you want this man.
And you can see it in his eyes. He wants you too.
For a split second, I see myself in London, not with a Burberry-wearing Brit on my arm, but with Brody beside me. The image morphs, and I see us in Silver Creek.Togetherin Silver Creek.
Maybe. Maybe it could work?
Brody’s expression shifts, a question clear in his gaze, and I breathe out a sigh. I close my eyes and lean my foreheadagainst his chest. If I’m reading Brody right, and he’s feeling as much attraction as I am, I can’t give him false hope. I’ve made a lot of progress in the past year. I’mhere.I’mtryingto stop fleeing whenever things get hard. But I didn’t anticipate what’s happening with Brody right now, and I’m not prepared for the onslaught of emotion he brings. Even though I know it’s a cliched line that people use too often, I really do feel like Brody is too good for me. He deservesmorethan me.
What we have—this friendship—is good and true and pure. Reliable in exactly the way it has always been. That’s all I can trust right now. Anything else might risk hurting Brody, and that’s the last thing I want to do. But I also can’t pretend like this isn’t different. We hugged all the time growing up. But we didn’t stand like this. We didn’tholdeach other.
“Kate?” Brody’s voice sounds close to my ear. He doesn’t have to speak the question for me to hear it. He’s wondering, questioning the meaning behind my sigh.
I step out of his arms. “We should get this stuff hauled away. Goodwill is going to close soon.”
He stands perfectly still for a long moment, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. He turns away from me and runs a hand through his hair before clearing his throat. “Right. You’re right. Do you want me to just drive it over?” He pulls out his keys. “I don’t mind.”
“No, I’ll go with you. I can’t ask you to haul it all by yourself.” I don’t want us to part ways like this. With this weird tension between us. An idea pops into my head. “What if I buy you dinner as a thank you? Burgers and fries out on the ledge?” It was our favorite way to celebrate random accomplishments back in high school. Perfect scores on calculus tests for Brody.Passingscores on calculus tests for me. Brody’s swim team wins. My promotion to editor-in-chief of the high school newspaper.Our college acceptance letters, even though I turned down all of mine.
Brody smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I would love that, but I have to meet with the school board tomorrow night. I need to get home so I can figure out what I’m going to say.”
“Oh. Oh, that’s so much more important.”
His jaw visibly tenses, but he doesn’t say anything in response.
“Come on. Let’s just go then. We can have dinner another time.”
We don’t talk much as we drive over to Goodwill, but at least the silence isn’t uncomfortable. It never has been between us, but after ourprolongedhug, I’m surprised it isn’t. I’m also surprised Brody can’t hear my thoughts for how loud they are inside my head. We’re talking full-on bellowing. Punctuated with ringing cowbells and the off-rhythm snare drum that used to mess up every marching band performance at the high school.
My brain is replaying the hug on a repeated loop. The sound of his voice as he whispered my name. The way his hands held me snug against him.
A part of me wants to talk about it. Be the one brave enough to acknowledge that our relationship feels different than it ever has before.
But then, what would be the point?
Talking about it won’t change anything.
