Page 90 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I’m still sitting at the picnic table when Brody slides onto the bench across from me. His expression is guarded—more guarded than I expect.
“You’re back,” he says casually.
“Hi.”
“How was your trip?”
“Good. Long. How was your trip?”
His eyebrows go up.That’s right.He never told me he was taking a trip.
I shrug. “You were with Flint. The internet knows everything about Flint.”
“Ah. Right.”
We sit there for what feels like an eternity, neither of us saying anything. It probably isn’t more than forty-five seconds or so,but the way he’s staring at me, the way the sunlight is catching on the drops of water still clinging to his shoulders, I am in literal agony, and it’s making my brain jump all over the place.
“I texted you,” I say.
“I saw.”
He is not making this easy.
I press my palms against the picnic table and focus on the feel of the rough wood against my skin, letting it anchor me to the here and now of the moment. “Brody, I’m sorry I left without talking to you,” I finally say. “I know it might not matter anymore. That maybe you’ve already decided you don’t want to take a chance on a flight risk like me. And I understand. If the woman in the photo is someone important to you...” I close my eyes, suddenly unable to finish the last part of my sentence.
“The photo?”
My eyes pop open. He hasn’t seen it? But then, why would he have seen it? I doubt he reads celebrity gossip articles about his brother.
“It was a picture of Flint. But you’re in it. On a dance floor, I think? You’re holding hands with someone.”
He slowly nods, leveling me with one of those intense stares I know so well. “Would it matter to you if she does mean something to me?”
I drop my gaze, heat flushing my cheeks. So hedidmeet someone else. I force a slow, deep breath. “You’re my friend, Brody,” I say without looking up. “I want whatever makes you happy.”
“Kate.”
I look up.
“You know that’s not what I’m asking.” His words are careful and measured, so very Brody.
I shake my head, tears already gathering on my lashes. “What do you want me to say, Brody? Yes, okay? Yes, it would matter.”My hands start to tremble, and I slip them off the table, hiding them in my lap.”It would make me feel sick with jealousy and rage and irrational fury.” I wipe away a tear and bite my lip. “And it would make me so angry at myself that somehow, I let you slip away.”
His voice is smaller now. “You left, Kate. I told you how I feel, and you ran away. Do you know what that felt like?”
“I know. I know, and I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice quivering. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I just...I got scared. This is a big deal. There’s a lot on the line. But I want this. I want...us.”
Gravel crunches in the parking lot behind us, and Brody looks at his watch. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, Kate. I’ve loved—” He shakes his head. “Even when you dated someone else. Even when you stopped texting me. When you stopped coming home and ignored my messages and skipped Grandma Nora’s funeral. I’ve been here. Trying so hard to convince myself I shouldn’t wait for you. I shouldn’t hope. But then every time I got close to letting you go, you’d show up again, stay just long enough to keep me on the hook.”
Tears spill down my cheeks. “Brody, I didn’t know. That wasn’t what I was trying—”
“But youdidknow last weekend. I told you how long I’ve—” His voice catches. “And you still left.”
I close my eyes. How did it take me so long to truly see him?
“Hey, Brody?” Griffin says from behind me. “The group is here and ready to get started. I need your help.”
Brody nods and runs a hand through his hair. “All right. I’ll be right there.”
