Chapters (43)
- Also by Jennifer L. Armentrout
- Title Page
- Imprint Page
- Contents
- Epigraph
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Epigraph
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Epigraph
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Epigraph
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Epigraph
“After getting food, he set me up in this guest bedroom and went to bed. Was like the man saw right through me and decided I was trustworthy enough to have in his house like that. I still find it unbelievable.” Brock’s fingers made their way through my hair and now were tracing little circles against the center of my back, obliterating my ability to focus. “Still blows my mind.”
“I can’t believe it,” Grady murmured, and it was then when I really hoped Brock would just stop, that he wouldn’t continue telling this story.
But I wasn’t lucky.
Nope.
God hated me.
“About an hour had gone by, and I couldn’t sleep. My head was all over the place. The house was too damn quiet. I wasn’t used to that. Wasn’t used to people actually sleeping at night, and not yelling or car horns blaring,” he continued, and I started to lean forward once more, to avoid those damn fingers, but he snagged a thick section of my hair, holding me in place. My eyes widened slightly. “I remember sitting in this room, the nicest room I’d ever been in at the time, thinking I needed to leave. You know, that I didn’t belong in this house,” he continued as if he wasn’t using my hair as a damn leash at the moment. “And then there was this quiet little knock on the door. I had no idea who it could be.”
“It was you,” Grady said, brows raised as he glanced over at me.
I closed my eyes as Brock’s finger slipped back through my hair, making patterns against the thin material of the dress. My entire being was focused on the burn of his fingertips.
“She brought me her teddy bear,” Brock announced, and I opened my eyes, letting out a sigh. “What did you say when I opened the door and you shoved the furry old thing in my hands?”
I couldn’t believe he was bringing this up. I also couldn’t believe he actually remembered it. “I said you looked like you needed a friend.”
Brock wasn’t smiling as he met my stare. “She then ran off, going back to bed, I guess.” A faint smile appeared. “I knew Andrew had a daughter. Even seen her a few times from a distance, but . . . never expected she’d give me, a complete stranger, a damn teddy bear.” Dragging his gaze from me, he looked over at Grady. “From that point on, we were close.”
I really, really needed him to stop touching my back.
“I can tell,” Grady commented wryly.
“I’ve been her shadow ever since.”
My gaze swung to his sharply. That was not how people related the story. I was his shadow. Never the other way around.
“Even took her to her senior prom,” he finished, and that was it.