Page 82 of Brett

After dinner, he helped her clean up. She was nervous about what he wanted to talk about. They returned to the sofa.

“I thought we were going to bed?”

“After you tell me what you want to talk about. Then we’ll see about bed.” She bit back a grin when he raked his fingers through his hair. He seemed nervous, too, and it better not be bad news, or she’d kick him over the balcony.

“Brett.”

“Yeah, okay.” He sat back, glanced around, and looked at her. “I want you to move in with me.”

“What?” JoJo didn’t expect that, for sure.

“We love each other, so why not?”

JoJo got to her feet, picked up their glasses, and walked to the kitchen. She placed them in the sink and stared at them. Move in with him? So soon? She jumped when his hands touched her shoulders.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Oh, Brett. You didn’t upset me. It’s just that…”

“Just what?”

She turned to face him. “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“Too soon? How could it be too soon? We’re in love, JoJo. Right?”

“Of course, but that’s a big step.”

“Couples take big steps all the time, JoJo. Why should we wait? Unless something is holding you back.”

“The thought that it’s too soon holds me back, Brett. We’ve known each other less than five months—”

“How damn long does it take?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry I’m making you angry, but this…” She shook her head.

“I see. I’m leaving. You can give it some thought… or not.” He strode to the door, removed his hat and coat, then opened the door and stepped onto the stoop. The door slammed behind him.

JoJo stared at the door, and tears rolled down her cheeks. She loved him. He had to know that. Moving in was such a big step. Yes, they were in love but never discussed a future together. Marriage. Kids. All that comes with it.

“Asking me to move in…” She shook her head. She hoped she didn’t just see him walk out of her life.

The evening didn’t turn out as she’d hoped, but he had to understand, didn’t he?

****

Brett ran down the stairs, strode across the lot to his truck, opened the door, and tossed his hat and coat on the passenger seat. He was too pissed to bother with putting them on. He was hot enough.

That sure didn’t go the way he’d hoped. What was the big deal? She said she loved him but didn’t want to live with him. What the ever-loving fuck? He started the vehicle, backed up, and stepped on the gas, making the truck spin on the snow. Taking a deep breath, he let up and drove home. It looked like another long night ahead of him.

The snow flew sideways in front of the headlights and looked like it would worsen.

“Damn it,” he swore, hitting the steering wheel with his fist.

When his cellphone buzzed, he looked at the screen on the radio to see his father’s number and pressed the button on the steering wheel to answer.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Brett, how are you doing, son?” Michael Watkins asked.

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