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"I'll be fine," I wave him off.
"Iz," he gives me a coy smile, "something is bothering you. You can talk to me about it."
"No," I click my tongue, "I don't think it's appropriate."
"Is it against the rules?"
I chuckle. "Rules? I'm pretty sure we've broken most of them by now."
"Come on," he motions to the elevator.
"Meeting," I emphasize. "Go to your meeting. Let me wallow in self-pity by myself."
"Wallowing in self-pity is my favorite pastime," he adorably responds.
"You're going to cancel your meeting, aren't you?"
"Yep," he flashes his eyebrows at me as he pulls out his phone. He sends a text and then shoves the phone back into his pocket. "Done."
"You really shouldn't have done that," I warn as we head toward the elevator.
"As long as Angie doesn't find out, we'll be fine," Brady whispers as he reaches to press the button.
I shamelessly check out his ass for the tenth time today.
How is it possible he's even more attractive now than he was ten years ago?
It's. Not. Fair.
We stare at each other as we stand on opposite sides of the elevator, the ride down to the first floor agonizingly long.
But at least the view is nice.
When I fell in love with Brady all those years ago, he wasn't the person standing in front of me now. He was young and unsettled. And he never wore suits and ties. He wore khaki shorts and polos. He had dreams, but they weren't as big as the ones he's living now.
He was more complex then, but he understood me in ways other people didn't.
Brady's dad was hard on him. So hard that Brady didn't have much of a relationship with him. He felt like an outcast in his family. Kind of like how I felt in mine. The Thompsonsare a breed of their own. Loyal, generous, and obsessed with each other. They opened their arms and held me close. And they haven't let go since Mom and Dad decided to adopt me.
It's always been me. I'm the one who's put up walls and forced herself to be on the outside looking in. Too scared to step inside because if I lose them, I don't know if I'll survive.
I don't know that I could survive losing more people.
So, Brady and I bonded over our matching scars. Needing a place to belong, but wanting to run. Longing for roots, but restlessly spreading our wings.
I would have done anything he asked me to. I would have gone anywhere with him. I trusted him with my life—with my heart.
Then, it all blew up.
To keep from running back to Brady, I ran to California and I started dating Steve. I never looked back. Never stopped long enough to catch my breath.
Standing here now looking at Brady, my heart aches. The kind of aching that I don't want to acknowledge. Because if I do, I have to admit things to myself that I'm not ready to.
Instead of thinking about it, I clear my throat. "Do you have any Thanksgiving plans?"
Brady shakes his head. "No. I'll be working."
"Working?" I repeat. "Why?"
