Brady Remington Landed Me in Jail(17)

"What?" My voice was husky now.

He shook his head, his eyes were sober.

"What?"

"I…" He held back. He had never held back before.

I gritted my teeth. "What?"

Startled, he released my hands, but he rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed with his elbows braced on his knees. I moved with him and sat with one leg tucked behind him. I wanted to rest my cheek against his back, I wanted so badly, but I held back. I needed to know what was going on inside of him first.

"What is it?"

Brady shrugged his tight shoulders.

That's when I placed a hand on his back and felt his muscles jerk in response. "What is it? Tell me."

Brady shook his head.

"Brady." I needed him and I needed him to tell me what was going on.

"I…—don't know what to do, okay?"

My heart pounded in my chest. My lungs constricted my air, but it didn't matter. There was no going back now. I rested my cheek against his back. "What do you mean?"

Brady stiffened, but he didn't move away. "I—you and me. Sex. I don't know what to do."

I wrapped my arms around him and after a moment, Brady tucked them tighter. He entwined his fingers with mine. "I want to know what to do, but I don't. I just know that I can't lose you."

I closed my eyes. I couldn't lose him either. "You won't."

"Promise?"

I felt a tear at the corner of my eye. "Promise."

Brady relaxed, but we hadn't settled anything. We were best friends. We couldn't replace the other. That was all that'd been settled.

"You know—" Brady cut himself off and stood.

I caught myself before I fell behind him.

"I—" He stopped again, ran a hand through his hair, and paced from my dresser, the bed, the window, and the closet. I moved to sit against the headboard and curled up underneath the blanket. As I watched him pace, restless, I closed my eyes for a moment, just a moment, because I could smell him on my pillowcase.

"I changed my mind." He stopped to stare at me.

My eyes snapped open and I knew that he wasn't even seeing me. He was seeing something else.

"About what?"

"I'm going to Cumberly's. You want to go?" Brady pinned me down with his eyes.

"Uh—" I froze. "I…don't know, Brady."

"Come on." He sat on the edge of my bed and caught one of my hands. His thumb rubbed the inside of my palm. "Please? You'll keep me from getting in trouble."

‘Or we’ll get in more trouble.’

"Please, please," Brady whispered and bent his forehead to rest against mine.

‘Oh no.’

I felt his breath on my cheeks and found myself weakening. "…okay…"

He flashed a smile before he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek and forehead. "Thanks, Ray." His cheek rested on my forehead for a moment, just a quick moment, before he pushed off. "I'm going to sneak home first. Meet me at the car in thirty minutes."

He threw open my window and swept out. I sat down with a thump.

We'd been in our own little conclave and the phone rang. We weren't going to the party. We were safe in our world. Now we were going. What had just happened?

I stared at my closet. I was back at square one. I had no idea what to wear.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Everyone knew where Dr. Cumberly lived. He was the one and only town's dentist. He owned the mansion that stood elegant and statuesque as it looked over Lake Parley and the Northshire Folk Golf Course. It was a ten minute drive, most of it over gravel roads, but Brady sped twenty over the speed limit. When we got closer, both sides of the road were lined with cars.

He pulled into her driveway and headed toward the opened garage where people stood with cups in their hands. Matt Krone, another football player, waved when he saw Brady at the steering wheel, and jerked his head to the sixth garage door.

Brady nodded. A moment later, the door lifted so he could pull in.

I hadn't realized that I snorted until Brady asked when he turned off the engine, "You got a problem?"

Where did I start? "You have your own parking spot?"

"What?" Brady shrugged a tight shoulder, but a smirk appeared. "Henry Cumberly likes me."

"Yeah, right. Dr. Cumberly."

"I caddied for him in eighth grade."

That's when he started caddying for the dentist's daughter, but in a whole other way.

I had hated Brady that summer. "Maybe I'll get drunk tonight,"

"You don't drink."

He turned toward me and hand could've rested on my shoulder, but he let it hang from the seat. I glanced at his fingers for a moment. They were strong, but the symbol on the inside of Brady's wrist was where my gaze lingered. It was the Hebrew symbol for faith. I hadn't been there when Brady had gotten it, but it always hurt that he wouldn't explain why he'd gotten it. Maybe there was a reason for that.

Maybe it was the same reason why I glared at him and folded my arms across my chest. "Maybe I should start."

Brady lifted an eyebrow. "We both know what happened the first and only time you've drank."