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Concerning.
I wrap my fingers around his wrist and pull his thumb out of my mouth.
“Brooks. What’s going on?”
His eyes bounce between mine, like he’s deciding what he’ll say. How much he’ll share.
“Don’t you dare keep me in the dark. Not after . . . everything.” I look down at my torso, wet with his release.
He sighs and rolls onto his back. He pulls a few tissues out of the box on his nightstand and cleans me up first.
Cleaning himself up, he says, “I ran into George last night at the pharmacy.”
“What?” My heart drops like a stone. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were already so upset, sweetheart.”
“Did he—”
“See me buying Plan B? Yes.” He looks meaningfully at me. “I didn’t want to lie to him, Greer. So I told him. Everything. I’m sorry. I know we wanted to tell him together, but it felt wrong to not come clean.”
I put a hand over my mouth. “And?”
“He was not pleased.”
My heart drops again as the pieces click into place inside my head. “You’re worried. About losing him. He was that upset.”
Brooks gives me a single nod of his head, hair whispering against the pillowcase.
“You’re worried about losing me,” I say.
He doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t have to. His eyes give everything away.
That’s why he’s turned into a caveman this morning. He wants reassurance.
I roll onto my side and put a hand on his face. “I’m not going anywhere, Brooks. I’ll talk to George. I told you, he doesn’t get to decide whether you and I are together or not. He’ll get it once he hears it from me.”
“Get what?”
“That what we have is real. That you mean a lot to me. He’ll understand. You know he will. At the end of the day, he just wants us to be happy, and we’re happy together. At the very least, we sleep better.”
Brooks runs a hand over the curve of my hip. “Maybe. Yeah. I do think Porg will come around eventually.”
I furrow my brow. “Try not to sound so excited.”
“I am excited.”
“Then why do you look like you’re being marched to the guillotine?”
He lifts his brows. “I always look like that.”
“Not when you’re with me.” My stomach clenches. “You’re stressed, aren’t you? Trying to figure all this out on your own?”
His eyes flick to meet mine. He doesn’t say anything.
“I told you, I want to help. I’m going to help.”
He stays silent, gaze moving to the ceiling.
“Keeping me locked away isn’t fair,” I continue softly. “I may be young, but I’m smart and I’m strong, and I hope you’ve learned firsthand what an asset I can be. You let me in. Now let me help.”
That gets his attention. He gives my hip a squeeze. “I appreciate that.”
“I don’t want your appreciation. I want your faith that I’m not some china doll who’s going to break the second trouble shows up. I mean, haven’t I been chasing trouble this whole time?”
One side of his mouth kicks up. “You’ve become quite the little troublemaker yourself, yes.”
“I learned from the best,” I say, nudging him with my elbow. “If this is going to work, I need to feel like I’m an equal. And that’s impossible if you treat me like a kid.”
He scoffs. “Always so shameless. You know I can’t say no to you, sweetheart.”
I grin. “Then let me help.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
GREER
I’m wheeling my muffin cart out of the bakery later that morning at exactly 6 a.m.—Dustin had it loaded and ready for me at quarter till for the fifth day in a row—when someone grabs the door for me.
My chest tightens when I see that it’s George.
He’s got dark circles under his eyes, but he looks crisp and handsome as ever in his khakis and collared shirt.
“Good,” he breathes. “I’m so glad I caught you. Did you get my text?”
I lean a hip against the cart. “Not until this morning. I’m fine.”
“Good,” he repeats. “I was worried about you. I know the whole thing must’ve freaked you out.”
I tilt my head. “Brooks did a good job taking care of me. We should be fine.”
My brother slips his hands into his pockets. “And you feel okay?”
“A little nauseous, but otherwise okay. Physically speaking. But I’m actually really, really pissed at you.”
George cuts me a look. “I’m really pissed at you.”
“You have a minute?”
“Why else would I be here at the crack ass of dawn?”
I lift a shoulder, guiding my cart toward the open door. “You wanted to be first in line for the best damn coffee and baked goods in the greater Charlotte area?”
“I could use a coffee, actually.”
“Too bad. I don’t like you enough to make you one right now.”
“Hey, George!” Dustin says, emerging from the back room with a kitchen towel in his hands. “I’ll make you some coffee—”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn.
Hannah appears at Dustin’s heels, a swipe of yellow frosting on her cheek. “George, are you being George again?”
