Brothers Next Door

by Samantha Twinn

  “I never told you to keep her away from me,” I say, getting annoyed by this conversation. Out of all the women he could have dated, Dean picked my ex, and now I’m the one with the issues. That sick feeling turns to anger. “If you want to have her over, have her over—have her stay the night, for all I care. I’m fine with it.”

  The elevator opens onto our floor and I get out, needing to put some distance between myself and this conversation.

  “Great,” Dean yells at me from the elevator. “I’ll tell them to come over at seven.”

  I’m in a foul mood for the rest of the day. I’ve already screamed at two of the interns, and my assistant is near tears by lunch. I decide to do everyone a favor and call it an early day. A few hours of solitude will help me prepare for tonight.

  Unfortunately, home isn’t the oasis I thought it would be. The huge apartment is suffocating. I pace the halls, wondering what Brenna is doing right now. This is insane. I need some fresh air, so I leash up Luther and head out for a walk.

  But of course, I’m batting a thousand today. As soon as I step outside, I see Brenna coming up the sidewalk loaded down with boxes like a pack mule. I ignore her and hurry around the corner to the park. But my asshole dog pulls on his leash in the other direction.

  “No, Luther. Heel.”

  Luther wags his tail and runs a circle around my leg, causing me to stumble. The second the leash is out of my hands, my asshole dog makes a beeline back to the apartment. Above, the sky opens up and pelts me with fat raindrops.

  “God damn it.” I untangle the leash from my legs and turn just in time to see Luther run headlong into Brenna.

  She falls back, the boxes fly through the air. Brenna tries to get to her knees, but Luther keeps jumping on her lap licking her. I run over and pull the big oaf off of her so she can get up.

  “Thank you,” she says, a relieved smile lighting her face. That is until she notices it’s me, then the icy facade returns. “Oh, thanks. I can manage from here.”

  The rain is coming down in sheets now, and I bite back a frustrated growl. I grab the nearest box. It has to weigh a good forty pounds, and I can’t figure out how she managed to carry two of them this far. “Just get the door,” I say as I get the other box.

  The sky lights up overhead and the sound, so much like the crack of a whip, spurs her into action. We get inside, and she takes care of the elevator while I balance the boxes. We ride the elevator up to her floor. Only the sound of water dripping onto the tile floor breaks the silence.

  I steal a glance at her. She’s shivering, her thin long-sleeved T-shirt soaked and plastered to her body. Physically, she looks so different than the girl I remember, and not just the hair and tattoos. She looks more alluring. Hips rounder. Breasts fuller. But those lips haven’t changed. I can’t help but wonder if kissing her would feel different or the same.

  “Thank you, again,” she says after opening the door, interrupting those dangerous thoughts. “You can set those on the table.”

  She points to the other side of the open concept room and disappears down the hall. The apartment doesn't look much different than it did eight years ago. Unwanted memories flood my brain like water spilling over a dam. Homework at the dining room table. Make out sessions on the sofa. Stolen kisses in the kitchen.

  Luther trots ahead of me like he owns the place as I set down the boxes, determined to leave as quickly as possible. But when I turn, I almost collide with Brenna. She takes a step back and holds out a pair of towels like a shield.

  “I thought you might need this,” she says and tosses me a towel. She bends over and drapes the other over Luther. “This can’t be that puppy you brought home. He was all feet and ears.”

  Luther rubs up against Brenna’s legs. His tongue lolls out the side of his mouth, and he looks up adoringly at her.

  Traitor.

  “It is. As you can see, he grew into those feet.” I glance at the door and back to Brenna. “We should leave. Come on, Luther.”

  “Thanks for the help.” With a sigh, she glances over at the soggy boxes. “I hope nothing is ruined.”

  “What was in those?” I ask, unable to resist engaging with her. “They were heavy as fuck.”

  “My roommate Liv shipped some of my library,” she said opening up one of the boxes and pulling out a plastic-wrapped comic. “She thought they would help cheer me up.” She removes the comic and thumbs through the pages. “Do you still read?”

  My eyes shift to the brightly colored cover, and I shake my head. “I got rid of all that after you left,” I say, watching as she meticulously checks each box for damage.

  “Oh.” Her shoulders drop. She turns back to the boxes and pulls out a thick graphic novel, setting it on the table. “Now, I feel stupid, but I got this for you. A signed edition of Last Standing. I got it a few years ago. I met Michael Carter at a convention, and I remember how much you loved the series.”

  I move closer to the table and read the inscription. Sure enough, it’s made out to me.

  To Tyler,

  Never stop fighting for what you want.

  Michael Carter.

  “I know it’s stupid and childish,” she says with a laugh. “But I thought you’d like it.”

  This Brenna is so different than the girl I fell in love with, but the same in so many ways. Something hot coils in my chest and the feelings I’ve worked so hard to ignore start bubbling to the surface. I have to get out of here before I say something I can’t take back.

  “I should go,” I say, handing her back the towel.

  Our fingers graze, and I freeze. She looks up at me with those big blue eyes—eyes that haven’t changed at all. Before I can stop myself, I pull her into my arms and kiss her.

  I’m not sure what I expected. For it to feel wrong? It didn’t. It felt right, like coming home after a long, hard trip. For her to slap me? I deserved it. She isn’t mine to kiss. A voice in the back of my head tells me to stop, but instead, I pull her closer.

  She melts against my chest, sighing. And that little sound drives me crazy. All the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this fall away and I push her back against the table. The kiss is all-consuming. Every unrealized need and pent-up desire I’ve carried with me the past eight years come pouring out, and I give in to the moment.

  Three months and eight years of longing.

  I no longer care what’s going to happen next. To hell with the consequences.

  Chapter Thirteen

  BRENNA

  A million alarm bells clamor in my brain. If I had been thinking straight, I would have stopped him before things had gotten this far. But for one perfect moment, it is just like old times. Seconds pass, possibly an eternity, as our kiss continues.

  His fingers dig into my scalp, tilting my head back, owning my mouth. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I need to tell him to stop, but the kiss…it is everything I’ve dreamed about and so much more.

  His touch sets me on fire. All the unrequited need I’ve been carrying around for years spills out. Years. I’ve waited years to feel exactly this, and now that he is here in my arms, it’s better than I remembered. The scent of him surrounds me, bringing back memories.

  He breaks away and presses his lips to my ear. With a groan, he murmurs, “I’ve thought about this moment for eight years. Dean will understand.”

  He moves back to my lips, resuming his exploration, but his words filter through my hormone-induced delirium.

  Dean. Fuck.

  “Stop,” I say, and with every ounce of willpower I possess, I pull away.

  His arm slides around my waist, pulling me back in.

  “Stop,” I demand, pushing him before we go too far. Guilt washes over me. Before? We’ve already gone too far. “What was that?”

  “That was a kiss,” he said, moving back in.

  “We can’t do this,” I say.

  “I thought this is what you wanted,” he says, understandably confused. I mean, I was practically dry humpi
ng him just a few seconds ago.

  “I do. No, I did.” Shaking my head, I try to clear the fog of lust. Nervously, I lick my lips, the taste of him still there. Damn it. I push him away and slide off the table. “But things are different. I’m with Dean. I can’t… I won’t be that woman. You had your chance. You’re the one that said you couldn’t do this again.”

  “Well, I was wrong,” he says, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I still hadn’t figured out how I felt, and then you go and fall into bed with my brother. Damn it, Brenna. Why didn’t you wait?”

  “Why didn’t I wait? Why didn’t I wait! Did you really just ask me that?” Anger flashes through me like a wildfire. He starts to speak, but I hold my hand up to stop him. “No, Tyler. It’s my turn to talk. I waited eight fucking years for you,” I say, pushing him hard. “I waited so long.”

  “What do you mean you waited? You’re the one who left, not me.”

  “I already told you the reason I left. You were supposed to come after your dad got better. I waited for you. When you didn’t call, I reached out. But you’re the one that wouldn’t take my calls. I emailed you. I even wrote you a fucking letter. No matter the setback, I waited, hoping one day you’d forgive me. And then you finally tell me to my face there’s no hope for us and I decide to move on, you have the fucking nerve to ask me why I didn’t wait. Well, fuck you.”

  I pound his chest with my fists. It feels good to unleash my rage. I raise my fists to hit him again, but Tyler grabs my wrist.

  “What are you talking about?” he asks. “I never got a call. I never got a single email or a letter.”

  “But your dad said—”

  “My dad? Don’t you see? He manipulated us.” Still holding my wrists, Tyler pulls me into his chest. “If I’d known how to reach you, I would have. If I’d known where you were, I would have followed.”

  The truth of his words hit me like a freight train. I always had my suspicions. It was the reason I kept trying. That blatant manipulation by his father was the main reason why Tyler wanted to leave home. My heart ached for our younger selves, but it doesn’t change our present.

  I finally understand what Tyler meant the last time we talked. I can’t do this anymore, either. It’s time to let go. It’s not his fault I held onto a stupid fairytale. And it’s not my fault he pushed me away when I returned.

  What is my fault is letting him kiss me—kissing him back—while I’m seeing Dean.

  I step away from him, and with the back of my hand, wipe away the tears that are now falling. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m sorry all of this happened, but we can’t change the past.”

  “But we can move forward.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do. With Dean. I won’t do this to him, and I’m not going to lie. I’m going to have to tell him about this kiss.”

  It was more than a kiss, and we both know it. When Tyler’s lips met mine, I lit up. He nearly brought me to orgasm while our clothes were still on and I want him to do it all over again. I need time to process this.

  “And what about us?” he asked. “Are you willing to give up?”

  With a sigh, I pick up the signed comic from the table and hand it to him. “We had our chance. I think it’s time we both move on.”

  He opens his mouth as if to argue, but instead, takes the comic and leaves, Luther trailing behind him. It feels like a part of me has just been ripped out of my chest when the door closes. The door opens again and my heart rate increases, but Landon walks through the door.

  “What was Tyler doing here?” he asks. “And why are you both soaked?”

  I take a deep breath and paint on my everything is normal face. “He was helping me with some boxes.”

  Landon glances over to the table. “Did he give you some comics? Tyler has a sweet collection.”

  That hole in my chest rips into a gaping chasm. Why did he lie about the stupid comic books? Because he doesn’t want that connection with you, a voice in the back of my head chimes in.

  Then why did he kiss me?

  Kiss or no kiss, there’s no going back. The only thing I can do now is move forward.

  Dinner at Dean’s is a disaster.

  Dean texts to tell me he’s running late, and I don’t have a chance to talk to him. So here I am, sitting next to the man I’m sleeping with and across from the man I kissed this afternoon. I can’t talk to Tyler. I can’t look at Dean.

  That kiss hovers over me like the sword of Damocles. I have to confess, but family dinner with my little brother doesn’t seem like the appropriate time.

  Half-way through the meal, Landon stands up. “This has been really awkward. I have homework, so I’m going to leave.”

  I want to call him back. Hell, I want to go with him. But it’s probably for the best that he leaves.

  “Is something going on? Is Landon giving you trouble again?” Dean asks. “I could try to talk to him. Or maybe Tyler can.” Dean turns to Tyler and asks, “Has he said anything to you? Is he upset that I’m dating Brenna?”

  “I don’t think that’s the problem,” Tyler says.

  I can’t stand it anymore. I turn to Dean and take a steadying breath. “I kissed Tyler this afternoon.”

  “She didn’t do anything wrong,” Tyler says from the other side of the table. “I’m the one that kissed her.”

  “I didn’t stop you. At least, not at first,” I say. “And I’m so sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

  “I don’t care who kissed who. Just tell me what happened,” Dean says, grabbing my hand. He’s surprisingly calm for just finding out his girlfriend cheated on him.

  I lick my lips and quickly glance over to Tyler, trying to decide where exactly to start. “Luther knocked me down, and I dropped my boxes. Tyler felt bad and helped me upstairs. We were just talking about the past, and I gave him a comic I’d picked up for him a while ago. I don’t know, I think some unresolved feelings got dredged up. It shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry.”

  “Unresolved feelings?” He narrows his eyes and frowns. “Have you two figured those feelings out yet?”

  “Yes,” I say at the same time Tyler says, “No.”

  Dean’s hand freezes on my leg and narrows his gaze at Tyler—who just shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. His gaze returns to me, and he brushes his fingertips over my cheek to catch a stray tear.

  “Why are you upset, sweetheart?”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed him. I’m in a relationship you,” I say, sniffing. “He may have caught me off guard, but I did kiss him back. I’m so sorry.”

  Tyler clears his throat. “I’m sorry, too. But this is Brenna we’re talking about,” he says as if that excuses everything. “I was in love with her first.”

  “That was a lifetime ago,” I say, shooting him a death glare. How dare he? How dare he talk about love when he wouldn’t even speak to me a few days ago?

  I don’t understand why he is doing this. If he would have just talked to me instead of pushing me away, then maybe things would be different. But now that I’ve finally moved on, I’m not willing to give up Dean on the off chance that Tyler wants me back.

  And do I really want to be with Tyler? It’s been the dream for so long. But it’s just that, a dream. The relationship I have with Dean is real. He’s smart, funny, and caring. I’m in love with him. It’s different, sure, but no less intense than what I feel for Tyler.

  “If that’s true, then why did you kiss me back?” he shoots back.

  “It was one kiss,” Dean says, taking my hand. “And then she confessed right away. I’m willing to let it go because you’re my brother and I know how appealing Brenna can be.”

  I squeeze Dean’s hand. I know how hard this must be for him. And as bad as I feel, the fact that he believes in me, believes in us, warms my heart.

  “I want to be with her and Brenna wants to be with me too,” Tyler says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to end up like this.”

  “That may have been true b
efore, but she’s here with me, Tyler,” Dean says standing up. “You’re the one that let her go.”

  “Hello?” I say, waving my hands in the air to get their attention. “Has it occurred to either of you to ask me what I want? Tyler, can you give us a second? I think Dean and I should talk about this alone.”

  “I’m not leaving,” he says, getting up and making his way over to the armchair in the livingroom. “Not until we figure this out.”

  “So you want to stay and watch us make-up? Watch as I kiss her? Touch her?”

  Dean slides a hand up my thigh. I grab his arm to halt his progression and frown. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to figure out where Tyler’s comfort zone is on this,” he says, shooting his brother a look. “What all of our comfort zones are for that matter.”

  Dean leans down and kisses me. His lips are soft and gentle, so unlike the needy, raw kiss I shared with Tyler. But then he deepens the kiss and every nerve in my body sings to life. He sucks on my bottom lip, and I groan.

  Tyler is watching me, watching us, so intently I can feel his gaze like a physical caress. The mood in the room shifts. Dean's hand travels further up my thigh, and I pull back, confused as to what’s going on.

  I look back and forth between the two of them. The two guys are having some kind of silent conversation that I’m not privy to, and I shift uncomfortably in the chair, feeling left out.

  “What exactly are you asking me?” I say, breaking the silence.

  Surely, he’s not suggesting we make out while Tyler is watching. It’s a ridiculous notion. What purpose would it serve? The last thing I want to do is make Tyler jealous, but I can’t deny the heat that’s thrumming through my veins as he watches.

  Dean sits back on his heels and looks up at me, narrowing his eyes. “Tell us what you want?”

  “I’m here with you,” I say. “If I didn’t want that, I’d tell you.”

  “I believe you. But you share a close connection with Tyler. There’s nothing I can do to change that. But I’m not willing to give you up. I’m in love with you, Brenna.”