The breaking point, p.4
The Breaking Point, page 4
“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.
BRADY
Since when did Grace have a boyfriend?
Lying in bed, I couldn’t stop imagining Grace with that bug-eyed little guy she called a boyfriend. When I’d shaken his hand, I’d half expected I’d break his weak paper bones if I squeezed too hard.
I growled under my breath. I was being fucking ridiculous. But my mind was stuck on who this Will guy was. Maybe I’d missed something about him. Something that made Grace think he should be her first lover.
She’s still a virgin. Fucking hell.
I didn’t want to think about that. If I did, I’d lose my goddamn mind. Because the thought of another man kissing her, touching her, pushing inside her—
I got up and grabbed my phone, which I’d left charging in the living room. Then I proceeded to fall down an internet rabbit hole to learn everything I could about Will.
I didn’t even know his last name. But it didn’t take long for me to find his Instagram account, which followed Grace’s. He’d posted three photos in the past three years, all of which were pictures of the insides of computers.
I snorted. What a fucking dweeb.
I had nothing against nerdy dudes. Hell, plenty of my friends played shit like D&D and loved video games.
But Will just seemed fucking boring. Did he even know how to please a woman? Make her moan his name and beg to let her come?
I doubted it. He was probably a sad sack in bed. I bet he cries when he orgasms, I thought darkly.
I then went to Grace’s profile, where I found a recently posted photo of her and Will. They were side-hugging. Will appeared vaguely constipated, while Grace looked stunning—as usual.
But they looked like siblings. Despite Grace’s impromptu kiss, I hadn’t detected any chemistry between them last night. Will had seemed like his head was going to explode when she’d kissed him suddenly.
How is she still a virgin? I couldn’t believe it. She was gorgeous: tall, blond, with legs for days. She could have any guy she wanted. How had she attended college and never slept with anyone?
It made zero sense. I scrolled through her photos, going back to when she first left for college four years ago. She was the Grace I’d known best: the Grace I’d made a point to avoid as much as possible.
In one photo, she posed with duck lips. In another, she was making some goofy pose with a bunch of her friends from high school. But that goofiness had disappeared from her latest posts, which I found intriguing.
Then again, it’d been four years. Grace wasn’t a teenager anymore. She was a grown woman, moving up in the world.
And I was some hockey punk who didn’t deserve to so much as kiss the bottoms of her feet. No matter how much my body screamed to take her and make her mine.
I hated the thought of Will fucking her. But I also knew that I couldn’t keep lusting after her either. Nothing could come of this attraction I had for my coach’s daughter.
So I tossed my phone aside and forced myself to stop thinking about the woman who’d haunted me for too many damn years.
Practice later that afternoon was a joke. I’d thought I’d gotten Grace out of my head until the woman appeared in the arena.
We had a big game with the Blizzards in a few weeks,, and we’d lost the last time we’d played them. Coach had been drilling us hard. He told us if we lost again, he’d skin our hides.
“Carmichael!” Coach roared from the stands. “Did you hear what I said, or are you too busy daydreaming?”
I scowled. Mac shot me a grin, and I could tell he was stifling a laugh.
“Yeah, I heard you,” I shot back, making sure Coach couldn’t see me rolling my eyes.
Even though we were all grown-ass men, Coach Dallas never failed to make us feel like kids sometimes. There were some occasions when I half expected the old man to put us over his knee if we dared to sass him.
I passed the puck to Riley when I saw Grace. At first, I just saw a woman with blond hair, but when we stopped to regroup, I heard her laugh.
I’d know that laughter anywhere. It sounded like wind chimes. Which I knew was fucking bonkers, but it was true.
I couldn’t help but watch Grace, who was with what looked like a small camera crew, as she pointed and gave directions. I thought she was supposed to be in some dim office, posting on Twitter or some shit?
“Dude, get into position,” Mac said in a low voice.
It took every bit of strength to pay attention to practice instead of to Grace. It didn’t help that whatever she was doing seemed to take fucking forever. She was still filming and talking to her group when we’d finished practice.
“You doing okay?” Mac asked me after we’d showered and changed. He sat on the bench across from me with a strange expression.
“Yeah. Why?” I made a point to stare at my feet.
“You were totally off your game today. Is there something going on between you and Grace?”
I whipped my head up, looking around. “Don’t be so fucking loud,” I hissed. “What if Coach heard you?”
Mac leaned back, crossing his arms. “What if he did? Is there something going on?”
I groaned. I did not need Mac to grill me, but I also knew that being cagey would only make things worse.
“Nothing is going on,” I said. “I’m just messed up after I went to Coach’s house for dinner. Grace brought her boyfriend.”
“Ah.”
That single syllable made me want to growl. “Ah? That’s all you have to say?”
“Sounds like you’re jealous.”
I groaned. “It’s so fucking stupid. The guy was a total wet blanket. The boyfriend, I mean. But I can’t stop thinking about her. And him. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“I still don’t get why you can’t just ask her out.”
I snorted. “She has a boyfriend.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you?”
He was right. If I wanted a woman, I never failed to get her. I’d pissed off plenty of dudes, but I’d never regretted it either. Besides, I’d only ever pursued women who obviously wanted me to pursue them. It was on them if they had shitty boyfriends.
“Nothing can happen between me and Grace,” I said. When Mac looked like he wanted to ask why, I cut in. “I can’t tell you why. It is what it is.”
Mac frowned. “Well, if that’s the case, you should get your mind off her. The invite to the Scarlet Rope is still open, you know.”
