Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“You’re drooling and I haven’t even started cooking,” he teased.
“Not going to lie, this is kind of doing it for me.”
“Me cutting chicken?”
“You being Braden At Home, all cozy and relaxed.”
That made him pause a moment, and then his eyes were on his hands again, his smile distant. “I’ll be honest… I can’t remember the last time I ever felt like this.” His smile faded then, brows furrowing. “It’s unsettling.”
I barked out a laugh. “It’s uncomfortable for you to relax? Why does this not surprise me.”
“It’s deeper than that,” he defended, moving on from preparing the chicken to the rice. He let the amount he’d measured out slide into the boiling water before covering it and turning to me, his hip leaned against the stove, arms folded. “It feels… risky. Like at any moment, the floor is going to fall out from under me because I wasn’t locked in and paying attention.”
My heart squeezed. “That sounds like a shitty way to feel.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I think I’m used to it. I have my role to play with my family, you know? My role to play in life. And for me, the aim is to be focused, to lock in and do what I need to do to provide.”
“You need to live your own life, too.”
“I know,” he admitted, but his voice was so soft. His warm golden eyes slid up to meet mine. “I’m trying. Thanks to you.”
My chest was so tight I thought my lungs would pop.
I understood that feeling he spoke of — being comfortable and yet terrified all at once.
Because I loved every second I spent with Braden. I loved his hands on me and the way he kissed me, yes, but I also loved days like today where we lost the afternoon just hanging out.
And where exactly was this going to go?
We had to keep it under wraps at least until I was off the team. If I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to audition again next season. Part of me did, sure, because I longed for that spotlight, for the freedom, to dance and call it a job. But there was another part of me whispering the truth of my expiration date, and that part was already exploring what came next.
What if you taught?
Those damn words were engraining themselves in me at this point, trying to be a tattoo.
And I wondered if that meant the universe was trying to get me to listen.
But even if I left the squad at the end of the season, if my life took me another direction… did Braden want anything more than what we had?
Did he even want this for long?
I didn’t have the nerve to ask — not when it was all hypotheticals, anyway. Right now, I was a cheerleader and he was a football player and we were breaking every rule sneaking around together.
So this was what we were at the moment.
And I needed to just chill the fuck out and be okay with it.
“Do you miss anything about Oklahoma?” I asked as he mixed a divine-smelling sauce together — something creamy and peppered with herbs.
“So much,” Braden said, a faraway smile on his lips. “The lakes. The country. The way you could drive on back roads for miles and miles. My dad used to take me to this fishing spot and we’d just hang out all day long. We were never in a rush, you know? Nowhere to be, nothing to do but wait for a bite. I loved that.” He frowned. “It was hard after Ginny got sick. We moved to Baltimore, from middle of nowhere to this big city, and Mom and Dad just had so much going on. I don’t blame them for prioritizing Ginny. We all did. But it didn’t exactly leave much room for me.”
I could see why he found it so easy to put himself on the back burner now.
He’d been trained to do it his whole life.
“Luckily, I had football,” he finished.
“It seems like you’re still close with some of your college friends,” I remarked. “I met Giana.”
He stilled at that, eyes widening. “Oh, God. What did she say? Did she talk about fucking tropes again?”
I laughed. “No, she told me where I could find you that day when you were meditating at the stadium.” I leaned back, tapping the island. “But now I kind of want to find her again and ask what the hell a trope is.”
“Trust me — you do not want to do that. Not if you don’t want an hour-long conversation that starts with tropes and ends in a place where she’s talking about why-choose and blue aliens.”
I blinked. “Oh yeah. I am definitely asking now.”
He shook his head, but a smile played at the corner of his lips. “You’d love her, honestly. You’d love the whole crew. We always try to get together around Christmas now that we live in separate states. Maybe you could join us.”