Page 106 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“Yeah…” Hux mutters. “That’s not sayin’ much…”

I can’t disagree with him there. Those classes have never been about kicking someone’s ass. They’re about making sure you don’t get yours kicked. About how to disarm someone or escape a situation.

What to do when your best friend comes at you for something semi-legit is not covered.

“Maybe we could use our words instead of our fists,” Gus suggests.

“Okay, Mr. Rogers,” Hux snarks, the two of them having a conversation through Brandt and me like we’re not here.

“I asked you to look after her!” Brandt shouts, lunging toward me.

I swerve backward, out of his grasp, throwing up an arm to protect myself. Gus mutters something about a good start to using our words, but I don’t ask him to repeat it. Mostly because I know it will only make me want to punch him next.

“I was looking after her.”

“You said you would treat her the same as you would treat Willa. Is that how you’d treat your own sister? You’d fuck Willa?”

I recoil. I know that he said it to get a rise out of me. To make his point. And he’s not wrong. Because I did tell him that I would treat Brenna the same way I would Willa. And I absolutely crossed a line with Brenna this summer I never would with Willa.

“Ew,” Hux comments under his breath.

I plant my feet and look my best friend dead in the eye. All his anger is right there, hovering at the surface, ready to boil over again at any moment. All I can do is hope that I can explain all this to him in a way that will help him understand that none of this was malicious. That all of it was an accident.

No, not an accident. Because that implies that it was a calamity. And falling for Brenna was anything but. This summer was…serendipitous. That’s a better word.

“The only thing I want to do for the rest of my life is look after her.”

“What?”

Brandt rocks backward, as if my statement hit him like a wrecking ball, knocking him off-balance. Slowly, the tension releases from his body, the anger that was simmering in his eyes eases, and he nods. I stay silent, letting him process what I said and come to his own conclusions. There’s still so much I want to say, but I’m letting him lead this. He started it with that first punch after all.

He nods again, each movement careful and deliberate, as if they are their own thought. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gus and Hux signal at each other, gesturing back toward Pour Decisions, but I don’t acknowledge them. They can do what they want. Their intervention isn’t needed anymore.

“She’s still a baby sister,” he comments, a single chuckle slipping out as he lowers himself onto the grass. Bending his legs, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, shaking his head. “My baby sister, to be exact.”

I nod, parking myself next to him, mirroring his stance. “I am aware. She’s also a beautiful, intelligent woman.”

“How?”

One word. One very loaded question.

I nod, trying to find the words to do it all justice. All while not betraying Brenna in the process. Because I’m sure the last thing my beautiful girl wants is for her brother to know this all started because she admitted to never having been on a second date. Or joking about Muldoon faces being eaten every time someone said good girl.

“By accident.” Shit, there’s that word again. “As in not on purpose, accident, not mistake accident.”

“Right.”

“I was looking out for her. She confided in me, and needed some help, so I said yes. Same way that I would hope you would help Willa if she ever came to you. And no, I won’t tell you what it was, because I’m not going to betray her trust. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you herself,” I explain. I pause, leaning down to pick at a blade of grass. I don’t need to look up to know that he’s nodding in understanding. Call it best friend intuition. “As cliché as it sounds, one thing led to another. We got closer and closer. And then all of a sudden, she wasn’t a little sister anymore. She was…she was a woman. A very grown up, very beautiful woman. And…I couldn’t help myself.”

My heart swells, thinking about Brenna at the murder mystery dinner and the way she lit up when she solved the whodunit. And the way she kissed me back that night at the top of the stairs. I shift, my dick twitching—very inappropriately—as my brain rushes to the Fourth of July on the boat and how she felt in my arms. How irresistible she was.

I clear my throat, trying to get back on track.

“For the first time, I saw her for what she was. Who she is. And I fell. I fell hard. I couldn’t help myself. And yeah, I probably should have stopped myself. I admit it. I should have walked away. I tried. You should know that I tried. But I couldn’t.”

“You fucking lied to me about it.”

“I didn’t lie.”