Page 134 of The Goat Next Door

“I know exactly how I’m going to feel tomorrow,” I say. “I’m gonna wake up wanting you in my house. At my table. Around Sophie. Around me. Same as today. I’m going to want the noise and the mess and the way you look when you’re annoyed with me. And the day after that? I’m going to want to wake up and do it all over again.”

I take a slow, deliberate step backward into the center of her kitchen floor. My heart is thundering against my ribs, each beat heavy and demanding.

“I told you I’m on my knees, Ember,” I say, my voice a low murmur. “I wasn’t just talking about a bench.”

I watch her eyes trace mine, searching for the truth. I’m finished pretending I can handle a world where she isn’t the first thing I see when I wake up.

I take that step, then another, the floorboards groaning slightly under my weight. I sink, my weight shifting forward, the gravity of everything I’ve kept inside finally pulling me down.

My knees hit the linoleum with a heavy, final thud.

Firefighters kneel for very few things.

Victims. Prayer. And apparently Ember.

I sit back on my heels, looking up at her, my hands resting open on my thighs.

“I’m right here,” I whisper, the room completely silent around us except for the sound of the rain against the glass. “Show me how to fix it.”

For a second, she just stares at me. Then she shakes her head a little like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “You are seriously down on the floor right now.”

“I told you I was done protecting my pride.”

“That is such a dramatic sentence.”

“I’m a dramatic man.”

I finally get the tiniest smile out of her again. It makes me reckless. I shift a little closer on my knees without thinking, my hands brushing lightly against the outside of her calves. Her breath catches.

I tilt my head back to look at her. “Tell me what you need from me.”

35

Ember

“Control changed hands so easily between them

it almost looked like trust.”

— Unknown

A breathless, involuntary giggle bubbles up in my throat, breaking the heavy, loaded silence of the kitchen. I bury my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking as the sheer absurdity of the scene hits me.

Brooks is down there, hands on his thighs, looking like he’s ready to receive a court martial, and the contrast to his usual ‘I’m the grumpy fire chief’ persona is just too much.

“Brooks,” I gasp, peering at him through my fingers as another laugh spills out. “Get up. You are entirely too large to be doing this. You look like you’ve accidentally shrunk in the wash. It’s ridiculous.”

His jaw drops with mock offense. “Wow. Thanks, Ember. Truly. I’m out here baring my soul—and my knees—and I’m a laundry mishap.”

“Oh, you’re definitely a mishap,” I wheeze, sliding off the bar stool.

My bare feet pad softly against the floor as I walk over, stopping just inches from him. I have to look down at him, which is a view I’m starting to think should be legally protected.

“So, what’s the endgame? You’re just going to camp out on my kitchen floor? What if I need to get into the fridge for a midnight snack? Do I just step on you like a piece of furniture?”

“You’ll have to step over me,” he says, his voice a low, steady rumble that completely contradicts his submissive position. His eyes darken as they track me, lingering on my mouth. “Or, you can tell me exactly what you want from the fridge, and I’ll get it for you. I’m at your service, Ember. Entirely at your disposal.”

“Oh, really?” I tilt my head, a wicked, playful spark flaring to life in my chest. “Anything?”