“And I didn’t want to see what was right in front of my face.” He scooted to the edge of the couch and stared up at me. “I just wanted you to think of me like you would a brother.”

Uncomfortable of where this conversation was going, I edged away from the coffee table, moving so I was standing in front of it, my back to the TV. “Brock—”

“But I knew that wasn’t the case. I wasn’t a fucking idiot.”

I stiffened.

His hands hung between his knees. “And I wanted to just think of you as someone who was like a baby sister to me.”

“You did. You didn’t once treat me like I was anything other than that.”

“I told you. I couldn’t let myself. You were six years younger than me. Now? Not a big deal. Then? Not to mention jailbait, but your father would’ve murdered me. Hell,” he grunted, a wry grin on his lips. “He still might kill me. You were too young and I was . . . I was too caught up in my own head. All I had were my dreams—be this big UFC star. Get a shit ton of endorsements. Work hard and party fucking harder, and you—”

“I didn’t fit into that,” I said without an ounce of bitterness, because I hadn’t. I’d been a little girl compared to him, full of silly dreams and hopes.

And there was a part of me that still felt like her sometimes. That I could be easily swept off my feet again, sucked back into Brock just when I was finally, finally starting to live my life.

“But I always knew,” he said, lowering his gaze. He let out a ragged breath. “I fucking knew how you felt.”

Crossing my arms across my chest, I shivered. I didn’t know what to make of that confession, what to make of any of this. A huge part of me was in shock. When you’ve spent a good part of your life wanting something and then another decent chunk of your life accepting you’d never have it, to now have it seemingly within reach was hard to comprehend.

I glanced over at him, and my stomach dipped in the most pleasant way. What would it be like to be with him, with our past no longer between us, and just now? My skin flushed with sweet anticipation, but at the same time, a part of me held back.

A part of me wanted to run screaming for the hills.

“I just . . . I really need to think about this. I mean, I don’t even know what you really want, if you just want to get laid—”

“If I wanted to just get laid, I’d already have someone in my bed right now. That would be easy.”

“Wow,” I muttered.