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“Are you cold?” he asked, noticing the way her body shook. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”
“Of course you should’ve. Come in,” she said, stepping to the side to give him room to pass. “I’ll make us both some coffee.”
A strange expression passed over his face. “Sure, okay. I’ll come in.” He took a deep breath. “Man, it’s been years since I walked through this door.”
Caitie covered her mouth with her hand. He hadn’t been here since that Christmas? “Oh, God, I hadn’t thought. The last time you were here…”
“Was the Christmas my mom died.” He blew out a mouthful of air. “I haven’t been in this house since my dad picked us up all those years ago.”
“That was such a bad time.” Her eyes met his. “You don’t have to come in. We can talk on the porch. You can stay here, I’ll grab a sweater.”
He shook his head. “No, I want to come in. It’s just bricks and mortar, right? Can’t hurt me anymore. Anyway, some of my happiest childhood memories were in this house. The good definitely outweighs the bad.”
“Only if you’re comfortable.
He gave the faintest of smiles. “It’ll be fine.” As he brushed past her to make his way inside she felt the whisper of his jeans against her thighs.
Her bare thighs.
“Why don’t you go to the kitchen?” she suggested, her face heating up at the thought of how exposed she was. “You remember the way, right? I’ll grab my sweater.”
She ran down the hallway to her bedroom. Pulling the door shut behind her, she leaned her back against the wall. Taking her glasses off, she closed her eyes and pressed her palms to her face, feeling the heat from her flushed cheeks. Why did she have to be wearing so few clothes and these ugly glasses? He must think she was such a mess. Way to show she was all grown up, looking like a teenage girl, with a wet ponytail and all.
Mortified, she grabbed a hoody from her closet. Once she pulled it over her head, she readjusted her hair. Refusing to glance in the mirror – she wasn’t that much of a masochist – she pulled her door open, and went to join him in the kitchen.
“Regular coffee okay?” she asked him. He looked up and nodded with a half smile. “That’s good,” she said, desperate to cheer him up. “So many people prefer decaf in the evenings. I think they’re missing the whole point.”
“Decaf’s for wimps,” he said gruffly.
She grinned. “My sentiments exactly.”
He was sitting at the breakfast bar, his elbows propped on the counter. As she filled the coffee filter with granules, she scrutinized him out of the corner of her eye. Though his jaw was still set tight, the color had returned to his face. She hoped the memories weren’t tearing him up.
“So, how was the party?” she asked. “Apart from spilling all my secrets, of course.” She kept her tone light.
“I’m so sorry. I think I managed to cover it up. I didn’t realize Lucas didn’t know. I thought after all these years you would have told him. Or maybe you’d gotten over it.”
“I thought I’d be over it, too.” It was awkward as hell, discussing this with Breck.
“But you’re not?”
She wrinkled her nose and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator. “No, I’m not. But it doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. Why didn’t you tell him? Does your mom know?”
She grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. It felt so much better to be doing something than looking at Breck. “No. I haven’t really told anybody, apart from you and Harper.”
“Harper?”
“My best friend. I live with her in New York. We went to college together.”
“Why would you tell her and not your mom?” He sounded genuinely interested. “You’ve always gotten along with your folks, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, of course. But the longer I didn’t tell them, the worse it got. Now I’m older, and it really doesn’t matter. I hardly spend any time here, so the beach isn’t an issue any more. And they don’t need to spend their time worrying about me.”
“It’s an issue if you can’t go visit your brother at his cottage,” Breck pointed out. “If it stops you from doing what you want to, then it’s a problem, isn’t it?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “I didn’t go to the party because I have work to do.”
