Page 86 of Hang the Moon
“Look at that, my two middle names.”
She drummed her fingers against the side of her mug. “Be serious, Brendon.”
He didn’t want to be serious. Or he did, but he didn’t think that being serious required taking a sharp turn for the melancholic. “I am serious. I feelveryserious about Annie, okay? But everything’s going to work itself out.”
Darcy pursed her lips. “Look. Mom said—”
“Since when doyouquote Mom?” His stomach sank to his knees. “Since when do youlistento Mom?”
“I take everything she says with a heaping tablespoon of salt.” Her lips twisted to the side in a wry smile. “It was back in December.”
Ah. When Mom had dumped her own fears about love all over Darcy, made her second-guess her feelings, her relationship with Elle. “What wisdom did she impart this time?”
Darcy’s tongue poked against the side of her cheek. “She was trying to make a point about how she and I are similar. That we don’t get over things as quickly as...”
“As?” he prompted, not liking where this was going.
Darcy’s eyes closed briefly. “As you do.”
He frowned. What did that even mean?
“She said your heart is like a rubber band,” Darcy added, and yeah, that sounded like something Mom would say, something strange and hippie-ish, something she probably thought sounded way deeper and more meaningful than it was. Half the things she said were probably regurgitated advice off a kombucha bottle or the inside of a Dove chocolate wrapper. “That you snap back was her point.” The corners of her mouth pinched, her lips pressed together. “But I think Mom’s wrong.”
“Yeah, well, I love Mom, but I think we can both agree she’s wrong about a lot of things.”
Darcy’s throat jerked. “Mypoint is that Mom thinks your heart is elastic but I think the real truth is that your heart is as breakable as everyone else’s, only you’ve never had it broken before.” She reached across the couch and squeezed his hand, the one not preserving his modesty. “The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”
He squeezed her fingers back and smiled. “Please don’t worry about me.”
She shook her head, her grip around his fingers tightening. “You’re my brother, it’s my job to worry about you.”
Brendon’s chest squeezed. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
He knew better than to tell her not to again, tell her there was nothing to worry about. Worrying was something Darcy came by naturally.
“Every time I try to slip London into the conversation, Annie changes the subject. She’s not talking about it.” She blinked fast, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. “What if, no matter how hard we try, Annie still moves away?”
Darcy’s concerns were legitimate, definitely not unfounded. But he didn’t want to worry. “There’s still time, Darce.”
Time to show her that Seattle was amazing. That she could make this city her home. That she had people here who cared about her.
Time to show her that he was a good choice. That if she jumped, he’d be there to catch her. He wouldn’t let her down like she’d been let down before.
He could be her exception if she only gave him—them—a chance.
She looked at him, dark eyes glassy. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
Too late.
A throat cleared, followed by a stifled giggle.
Standing just off the hall, wearing nothing but his button-down, was Annie. Her hair resembled a nest, her face was bright pink, and she still had her Breathe Right strip molded to her nose.
Brendon had never seen anyone more beautiful.
“Good morning.” Annie padded over to the couch, tugging at the hem of her borrowed shirt. She studiously avoided looking at Darcy as she sat on the arm of the sofa beside him. Her lips twitched as she eyed his ensemble. “Nice blanket.”
He let his eyes drag down her body and back up to her face. “Nice shirt.”
