Chapter 4

GRACE

PRESENT DAY

It was family dinner night on Fridays, and we all fell into our usual routine like I’d never left for college. Mom was in charge of the cooking; Dad was in charge of the cleanup.

I was in charge of everything else—setting the table, plating the food, and making everything look pretty. I also helped Mom with any cooking tasks. Dad usually tried to get me to help him with dishes, but as a kid I always managed to slip outside before he could rope me into that task.

I was pouring salad into a large wooden bowl and adding a few other toppings when Mom said, “When is Will coming?”

It took me way too long for my brain to register what she was asking. Will? Oh. The guy I’m dating.

I winced inwardly. I’d been so focused on Brady that poor Will had basically disappeared from my thoughts recently. It didn’t help that I kept running into Brady while at the arena.

I didn’t run into many of the other players. Just Brady. Strange coincidence, that.

Brady only ever said hello, maybe with a wink added on for good measure. Even that short salutation never failed to get my traitorous heart racing.

“Will. Oh, yeah. Um, six o’clock?” I finally answered, hoping Mom took the blush on my cheeks as me being excited to see the guy I was dating.

“Be sure to put out five plates tonight,” Mom said before her attention turned back to the risotto she was carefully stirring.

Five plates. I grabbed the dishes before my brain realized five would be too many.

“Mom, isn’t it just four of us tonight?” I called from the dining room.

“I invited Brady,” Mom said offhandedly. “I saw him at the arena and invited him. I hope you don’t mind.”

I gritted my teeth. I eked out a vague response that tried to sound casual, but I was sure it didn’t.

Brady, here. Tonight. When my new boyfriend would also be here.

Will isn’t your boyfriend, I reminded myself. Will was just the guy I was dating. We hadn’t even talked about making things official. We’d been on two dates. We’d only just kissed on the last one.

And if I were being honest, the kiss had been lackluster at best. Will’s lips had been overly moist, and I’d had to surreptitiously wipe away the saliva he’d left on my chin after kissing me.

But I’d agreed to keep seeing him because I knew that sometimes chemistry took time to build.

Or you’re just too nice to call things off, I thought morosely.

How would Brady react to Will? And why did I care? I shook myself. I had to play this cool. Brady was a brother to me. I just had to hope he wouldn’t try to razz Will like an older brother would.

After I set the table, I took out my phone and googled Brady. It was rather masochistic but a good reminder of why we’d never work out. The top pages were all posts and photos of Brady out with various gorgeous women. There were multiple photos of his arms around two women, with other women following him like starry-eyed ducklings.

If ducklings had huge boobs, huge lips, and wore basically scraps of fabric that somehow equaled an outfit.

I scowled and returned my phone to my pocket. Brady will never change. So you might as well get over him.

I busied myself with finishing up dinner preparation, although Mom got annoyed when I nearly let the bread burn in the oven. She gave me a look that she’d perfected over the years, one of exasperation mixed with affection.

“Get out of here,” she said, hitting me lightly with a dish towel.

Will arrived promptly at six o’clock. Brady, who’d told Mom he’d be there at six as well, was late. As per usual. Brady had never been one for punctuality.

“Hi there,” Will said, forcing me to stop thinking about Brady.

Will was in IT, and he looked like it. He wore glasses, along with a button-down that was two sizes too big. He’d recently shaved, and I had to pick off a piece of toilet paper he’d left on his jaw.

“Don’t be nervous,” I said, taking him by the hand.

Will laughed awkwardly. “I might not be a sports guy, but even I know who Coach Dallas is.”

When I’d first told Will who my dad was, he’d looked at me like I was an alien. I’d been surprised—and a little annoyed at myself for revealing my dad’s identity.

I usually kept that a secret for a while longer. I’d been on too many dates with hockey bros who thought getting close to Coach Dallas’s daughter would get them close to the hockey coach legend himself.

I’d never understood it. It wasn’t like Dad would add a guy to the team because he’d bought me a drink. But when I’d pointed that out once, my date had gotten so defensive that he’d ended the date early.

I introduced Will to Mom first because she was nicer. Mom smiled kindly at Will and shook his hand. She asked him the usual questions that moms loved to ask: Where do you work? Did you grow up in the area? Is your family nearby? Will answered them all without breaking a sweat.

But when Dad finally came inside after mowing the lawn—because of course he had to mow the lawn before dinner—Will’s calm exterior didn’t last long.

“What are your plans with my daughter?” Dad asked after perfunctory introductions were done.

Mom rolled her eyes. “Mike. Don’t scare the poor guy away.”

“I’m not scaring him.” Dad’s intense gaze narrowed as he looked Will up and down. “Am I, son?”

Will swallowed. I was about to take Will into the living room for a reprieve when the doorbell rang.

“That must be Brady,” Mom chirped.

I made a face, which Dad saw. He just raised an eyebrow at me.

And then Brady Carmichael, the man I couldn’t escape, was in my parents’ house again, taking up every bit of space he could.

Brady wore jeans and a black fitted tee, his hair was damp, and sexiness dripped from every pore. He didn’t have any bits of toilet paper on his face, and his clothes fit perfectly.

Don’t compare him to Will. It wasn’t fair. Brady was on another level from any man I’d ever met. Poor Will could never compete with a man like Brady.

“Grace,” Brady murmured before pulling me into a brief hug. “Nice to see you again.”

I inhaled the scent of his cologne, my heart pounding, which only made me feel horribly guilty.

“Brady,” I said hoarsely.

“I’m so glad you could join us,” Mom said. “It’s been too long since you’ve joined us for family dinner.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Dallas. It’s nice to see you,” said Brady.

Mom waved a hand. “Call us Mike and Elise, won’t you?”

“Or Coach . Since I’m still your coach at the end of the day, right?” said Dad with a raised eyebrow.

Brady’s gaze landed on me. “It has been a long time since I’ve been over for dinner, though, hasn’t it? Not since Grace left for college, right?” He shot me a look that spoke volumes.

I wanted to die. I’d been an idiot back then—a young, lovesick idiot. I’d hoped against hope Brady had forgotten about that night, but ...

“And who’s your friend?” Brady asked.

I blinked. Then I blushed scarlet, because poor Will had been forgotten entirely.

“This is Will,” I stammered, “we’re dating.”

Brady’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” he drawled.

Will, for his part, shook Brady’s hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

“The feeling’s mutual.” Brady’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

Thankfully, dinner was ready, and we all went to the dining room to eat. Brady made a point to sit on my right; Will was on my left. And I realized Brady had done that because he was left-handed, which meant his arm would brush mine throughout dinner.

“Do you want to switch with Will?” I asked Brady sweetly. I gestured to his left hand. “Then you won’t feel so crowded.”

“Oh, you never crowd me,” Brady replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

I knew that was code for Are you going to make a fuss about this? I wanted to stab Brady with my fork. It didn’t help that Will was watching the exchange with suspicion in his gaze.

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. My parents seemed divided on which guest to pay attention to. Mom focused all her efforts on Will, while Dad preferred to grill Brady. And of course Brady made a point to brush my arm with his every chance he got. He even made sure to “accidentally” pick up my water glass and drink from it.

“Oh, was that yours?” Brady winked at me. “Sorry. You can have mine. I haven’t used it yet.”

I wanted to dump the rest of the contents of the glass on his smarmy, arrogant head. Instead, I tipped the glass back and drank the rest of the water.

“Don’t worry about it,” I drawled, mimicking his earlier tone.

One side of Brady’s luscious mouth curled up in a grin.

“Grace, how is your internship?” Will asked me.

It took me a long moment to find my answer. “Uh, it’s good. I got to make copies today,” I said jokingly.

Will frowned. “I thought you said this was a real job.”

“It is—I mean, it will be. I’m still training.”

“How much training is there to post on Instagram?” Brady asked, chuckling.

Now I was pissed. I kicked Brady under the table, which made him wince. Mom and Dad just watched the tableau with confusion on their faces.

Or, rather, Mom looked confused. Dad looked pissed, too. Except I couldn’t tell who, exactly, he was pissed at: Will, Brady, or me.

“Will, where do you work again? Grace never mentioned that.”

Now Brady sounded like we were talking to each other all the time. I could strangle him.

“I work in IT,” replied Will.

“Oh, that tracks.” Brady shook his head, grinning to himself.

It took every ounce of restraint for me not to kill Brady right then and there. I had a feeling even my parents wouldn’t stop me.

We finished eating in awkward silence.

“Brady, can you help me clear the dishes for dessert?” I asked.

Brady knew a command when he heard it. He smiled, his gaze heavy lidded, and then saluted me.

When we were in the kitchen, I whirled on him. “What the hell is your problem?” I demanded.

Brady put up his hands. “Whoa there, sweetheart. Should I put the knives away first?”

“You’re being a jerk. To Will, to me. To my parents, who invited you. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

I saw something flash across Brady’s expression that I almost thought could be remorse. But it disappeared so quickly that I probably had imagined it.

Brady popped a grape into his mouth. “Baby, you do look sexy when riled.”

“I am not your baby,” I hissed.

“Well, you’re definitely not Walt’s, either.”

“His name is Will.”

Brady looked bored now. “Is it? Sorry. Seriously, that’s the best you could find? He looks like he’d burst into tears if you stepped on his foot.”

“So? Why do you care?”

Brady blinked. Then his gaze narrowed. “Because you and I both know that little IT guy isn’t your type.”

I started laughing because there was no other response to make. “My type? You don’t know a damn thing about who my type is, Brady Carmichael. You also have no say in how I live my life—”

Brady pressed a hand over my mouth. “You’re yelling.”

I bit his palm—not hard, but enough to make him remove his hand.

“I’d forgotten how spicy you could be,” Brady said, almost to himself. He looked at me now like he didn’t recognize me.

I pointed a finger at him. “Behave yourself. You have to be boring. So dull that we’d all rather watch paint dry. Otherwise, I will never, ever forgive you.”

“And you’re still just as bossy as when we were kids.”

“Only because you’re a huge pain in the ass.”

Brady just grinned lazily. “You enjoy this.”

I stared at him. “What?”

He gestured vaguely. “This. Us. I just know Will doesn’t get you going like I do.”

I blushed to the roots of my hair. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on. That guy? Seriously?”

“I’d rather be with a guy like Will than a guy who constantly has women with fake boobs falling all over him. Have you ever been with a woman who hasn’t spent thousands on plastic surgery? Do you even know what breasts without silicone feel like?”

Brady just laughed. “Baby, now you just sound jealous.”

I didn’t respond to that. Instead of decking Brady in the face, I returned to the dining room with a sweet smile plastered to my face. Dad raised an eyebrow as I sat back down.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Everything’s great.”

I realized a moment later that I hadn’t returned with the promised dessert. I was about to get up again, my cheeks heating, when Brady came back, holding the cake Mom had made yesterday.

“Did you forget something?” he said to me, shooting me a wink.

Will managed to find me after dinner for a private conversation. “We should head out soon if we want to catch the movie at seven thirty,” he said.

I’d completely forgotten he’d asked to go to a movie afterward. But the thought of sitting in a theater for two hours with Will just didn’t appeal to me right now.

“I’m sorry, but can I get a rain check?” I asked, feeling horribly guilty. “I have a headache.”

Will looked disappointed, but he didn’t push it. To make me feel even guiltier, though, he made sure to ask whether I needed to take anything or if he should go to the store for something. I told him I’d be fine—I probably just needed to drink more water.

Will had gone to the kitchen to get me a glass of ice water when Brady came over. “What was that about? He looked like he was about to start crying.”

“He did not,” was my brilliant rebuttal. When Brady just waited, an eyebrow cocked, I sighed. “I told him I had a headache and didn’t want to see a movie tonight with him.”

Brady chuckled. “Poor guy. But I can’t say that I blame you. Were you going to see a documentary? Like the history of computers or something?”

Will returned with my water. But I didn’t even take the glass he offered. Instead, I wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him—hard.

Will grunted in surprise. I felt water splash onto my arm. When I pulled away, I could see that Will had spilled half of the glass onto the rug.

Brady, though, was the person I was really paying attention to. He just stared at me, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared.

I was breathing heavily. I told myself it was because of the kiss, but I knew that, deep down, it was because of Brady’s intense, jealous expression.

Some ten minutes later, I heard the front door open and close.

“Brady had to head out,” Mom explained. She gave me a look. I chose to ignore it.

I was sitting in the tree house when Brady texted me.

The sun had just set, and it was starting to get cold. But I didn’t want to go inside. I mostly wanted to avoid my parents’ questions—about Will and Brady.

I was a dick tonight. Sorry, Brady’s text read.

I snorted. I didn’t reply because he didn’t deserve forgiveness. I was still too mad at him right then.

Why did Brady care so much about who I was dating? He was the epitome of the dog in the manger: he didn’t want me, but nobody else could want me, either.

What if he did want you?

I already knew he didn’t. He’d rejected me when we were teenagers, and now that I was grown, he’d never shown any interest in dating me. It wasn’t like Brady Carmichael didn’t know how to ask a woman out. If he wanted me, he’d say as much.

I lay down on the wooden floor of the tree house, staring at the ceiling. I hadn’t spent much time up in this tree house when I’d been younger. My parents had moved to LA and into this house right before I’d left for college. The previous owners had built this tree house for their kids, and my parents hadn’t had the heart to take it down despite the annoyance of having to maintain it.

The tree house I knew best was the one at my parents’ house in Las Vegas. The same house where Brady had become my foster brother. That tree house ... it held a whole lot of memories, both good and bad. I’d spent so much time up there when I was a kid, but it’d tapered off when I’d become a teenager. It had felt silly and babyish, hanging out in a tree house.

Now, I wished there were more tree houses for adults in general. Why did kids get to hide away? Adults needed something like that just as much as kids did.

I must’ve dozed off because I was awoken an hour later by my phone buzzing. It was Brady texting again.

At least tell me to fuck off. Don’t ignore me.

I laughed at his audacity. I took a picture of me flipping him off and sent it to him.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard someone climbing the ladder. Then, to my shock, Brady was inside the tree house, gazing down at me with an amused expression.

“What the hell?” I groused, sitting up. I brushed dirt from my shirt, hoping that my hair wasn’t full of leaves.

“I thought you’d be up here,” he said as he sat down next to me.

I scooted as far from him as I could, which wasn’t far, given how small the tree house was and how huge Brady was.

“I thought you went home?”

“I went to a bar down the street. And I could tell from your picture you were up here.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Okay. Do you need something?”

“Did you get my text earlier?”

“That you’re a dick? Yeah. I already knew that. You didn’t need to come back to tell me.”

He chuckled. “Still spicy, huh? Well, I am sorry. I was a dick tonight. Feel free to punch me if you want.”

I was sorely tempted, but I knew that I probably wouldn’t even make a dent in his fat skull.

“I’m still mad right now,” I said, “but I’ll get over it. Eventually.”

Brady put his chin on his palm. “So. How’s it going with Will?”

I burst out laughing. “Seriously? Man, I envy your sheer audacity sometimes.”

“I’m being for real!”

I rolled my eyes. “Will is great. Amazing. I’m so glad we’re dating.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

I looked away. “We’re just getting to know each other,” I hedged.

“Was that your first kiss?” Brady asked, his voice rough.

“We’ve kissed once before.” I swallowed, my mouth going dry. “But we haven’t had sex yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Brady made a strange noise in his throat. “I don’t need to know the details.”

I knew that, but I also knew that talking about it bothered Brady. Why, I didn’t know—or I didn’t want to think too deeply about it.

“I’m thinking about Will being my first,” I blurted.

I couldn’t look at Brady. I waited in anticipation, my heart pounding. But when Brady said nothing, I forced myself to look at him.

The light was dim, but I could just see how dark Brady’s eyes were. His jaw was tight, his fist clenched.

“I’m happy for you,” he said finally.

He didn’t look happy. He looked pissed. Why did he hate Will so much? Was he really such a bad choice for a boyfriend?

My gaze moved from Brady’s eyes to his mouth. My heart leaped when he licked his lips.

And then I could feel his heated gaze on my own mouth, and suddenly, the air crackled with tension. The hair on the back of my neck rose.

Brady leaned forward—ever so slightly, but I saw it—and I couldn’t breathe. Was he going to kiss me?

But then he just said, “Let me know if you need any sex tips, kid.”

Then he was gone, almost like the entire thing had been a figment of my imagination.