Page 116 of Big Dill

“I…” My voice wobbles and I hate it. “I don’t think I have anything to go back to.”

He lifts a hand and gently tucks my hair behind my ear.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His brow furrows as if he’s carefully selecting his next words. “You’re still getting on your feet,” he says gently.

My throat tightens.

Really, Jami. Did you expect him to ask you to stay forever?

I look past his shoulder, toward the hallway that leads to the stairs, that leads to my brother’s room. “It’s just⁠—”

“Jaxon,” he says. “I know.”

“It’s good that you’re going to talk to Mr. Cheeseman,” I say, forcing the words out. “Get me into my own apartment.”

If it’s good, why does it feel like I’m being nudged toward the door? Like I’m losing my place here too? “Jaxon needs his bed, right,” I murmur, though it comes out sounding more like a question than a statement.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. We both know why I can’t stay under this roof—not just because Jaxon needs his space, but because of what we’ve been doing in the shadows. Because secrets don’t survive proximity forever.

And I mean…it’s not like he wants me gone so he can move Elise in. Right? When it comes right down to it, Elise has every right to chase after him again. She doesn’t know a thing about us. Sure, Devon picked up on it right away, and only smirked when we denied it. But no one here in town is aware of anything, except maybe…Mr. Cheeseman, and he’s not really the gossipy type, otherwise everyone would know about the little toy I bought at the department store.

Brody pulls me back against him, and I rest my cheek over his heart, the strength of it is steady beneath my ear. He kisses the top of my head, his hands warm and familiar on my back. If I could, I’d stay just like this forever.

“Breathe, Little Birdie,” he murmurs.

Then, effortlessly, he lifts me and sets me on the counter. My breath catches as he steps between my legs, his body close.

As I revel in the comfort and familiarity of it, I glance past his shoulder again. “This is dangerous.”

“He’s on crutches. We’ll hear him coming,” he whispers.

“I can’t.” I suck in a breath, but it feels like my lungs won’t cooperate. “I can’t keep lying to him. Especially now that I’m staying longer. And if we’re going to keep doing this…”

I trail off, afraid of finishing the thought, because suddenly it feels like we’re not going to keep doing anything.

Cripes. Am I still doing this? Still searching for a sign? A promise? Some indication that this is more than sex? That if my brother knew it was love—and not just random hookups—he might somehow understand?

Love.

God. I am in so much trouble.

“It’s late,” he says, kissing my forehead. I fight back tears. “We’re all exhausted. We don’t have to make any big decisions tonight.” He hesitates, then adds, “We can sleep on it…in separate beds.”

Everything about the way he says separate beds.

Everything about the fact that he doesn’t ask me to stay.

Everything about how he still isn’t ready to tell Jaxon the truth.

It all settles heavy in my chest, letting me know what I’ve been pretending not to see.

I’ve built this into something it isn’t.

You’re not Elise, I remind myself quickly. You’re just her temporary stand-in.

And temporary things don’t get to ask for more.

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