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She meets my eyes, and there’s a flash of something raw. Vulnerability.
“I never said yes,” she confesses, the words tumbling out. “Jamie proposed, and I realized…we had no spark. It was too safe, too comfortable.”
I watch her closely, detecting the slight tremor in her lips. She’s laying her cards on the table, exposing her past, her doubts.
“It was nothing like—” She hesitates, a crease forming between her brows. She glances at me. “It’s nothing like what I’ve felt with you, or Levi, or…Conrad.”
The admission is a punch to the gut. An unexpected confession that stirs something deep within me. Her cheeks flush a soft pink, and she bites her lip, clearly embarrassed by her own honesty.
Her truth hangs in the air, heavy and potent. And in that moment, I understand Brielle Rose a little bit more. She’s not one to settle for less than fireworks, and neither am I.
I watch her, the way she twists her napkin in her lap, eyes shimmering with a conflict that seems to pierce through her usual poise.
“Does it make me terrible?” Brielle’s voice breaks into the silence, her question hanging like a fragile chandelier above us, ready to shatter.
I don’t hesitate. My hand reaches across the table, fingers finding hers. “Brielle, you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.” My words are firm, steady.
The tremble in her hand stills under my touch. She lifts her gaze, a smile breaking through the storm clouds in her eyes. “Thank you, Grayson.”
My thumb brushes over her knuckles, a small but intimate gesture that sends a ripple through the air. My eyes soften, as the truth becomes even more evident.
I’m falling for her. Hard.
29
BRIELLE
Dad lounges in his favorite armchair, eyes glued to the TV screen. I can’t remember the last time I sat down to watch a game with him, which is a bit sad considering how often we used to watch the game together.
“Hey, Brielle,” he says, tearing his gaze away from the sporting event for a moment. “What are your plans for dinner? Mind joining me to watch the rest of the game?”
“Sure, Dad,” I agree, feeling a sudden warmth at his invitation. “I haven’t been keeping up with the games lately, but I’m sure I’ll catch up easily enough.”
“Great!” Dad grins, his eyes twinkling with the same excitement that always seems to accompany a good football game.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“When aren’t I?”
A whiff of grease and sweat fills the air as I contemplate dinner options. “How about fried chicken sandwiches with a side of roasted broccoli and cheese?” I suggest, knowing full well that Dad has never been a fan of vegetables.
“Broccoli?” He raises an eyebrow, his nose scrunching up in distaste. “You know how I feel about those green things.”
“Exactly why you need them, Dad,” I tease, poking him playfully in the ribs. “You can’t survive on fried foods alone. Plus, they say eating your greens helps keep that dad bod in check.” My fingers dance across his stomach, causing him to squirm in his seat.
“Alright, alright,” he concedes, chuckling at my persistence. “But only because you’re making it.”
“Deal.” I grin, already planning my culinary masterpiece. I head to the kitchen with one more look at the screen.
The sizzle of frying oil fills the kitchen as I dip pieces of seasoned chicken into a bowl of flour. My fingers are coated with batter, yet I work deftly, lost in the familiar rhythm of preparing comfort food. The mouthwatering aroma wafts through the room, stirring up memories of Mom’s home-cooked meals.
“Smells amazing, Brie!” Dad calls out from the living room, his voice barely audible over the roar of the football game on TV.
“Wait until you taste it,” I reply, flipping the golden-brown chicken to ensure even cooking. As the last piece cooks, I turn my attention to the broccoli. Chopping it into bite-sized florets, I arrange them on a baking sheet and sprinkle shredded cheese on top.
Broccoli never looked so good, I think to myself, sliding the tray into the oven. In no time, the cheese melts into a bubbly, golden blanket over the green veggies.
With the timer ticking down on the oven, I grab some soft buns and begin assembling the sandwiches. Juicy fried chicken, crispy lettuce, and tangy pickles come together in a symphony of textures and flavors. I can’t help but sneak a bite, the satisfying crunch echoing in my ears.
