More Than Need You (More Than Words 2)

When the song finally ends, I turn off the player again and stare out at the traffic.

“Ouch,” my brother says into the silence only broken by road noise.

“Yeah.”

“I see why you’re taking Keeley’s ‘musical suggestions’ in small doses.”

“The woman always gets her point across, and it’s very often not in a straight line. Remember that.”

Maxon nods slowly. “It’s a little like Mom, but much nicer.”

I tense. The only topic I like discussing less than my breakup with Britta is our mother. “Thank god she lives in San Diego. If she and Dad both moved back to Maui, I’m sure there would be some form of family murder in our future.”

My brother snorts. “Don’t be too thankful yet. According to Harlow, she’s looking for Dad. Plus, she’s coming out for Harlow’s wedding in May.”

No idea how I’m going to handle that.

“Well, Mommy Dearest hasn’t called me.” She’s not likely to. “And I am not about to call her.”

“Boy, she must have pissed you off after I went to college.”

You have no idea…

Instead, I shrug. “As I’ve gotten older, I just see them both for who they are.”

Maxon pulls at the back of his neck. “Me, too. How did we turn out halfway normal?”

“Did we?” I ask—and I’m only half kidding. He and I are both massive bastards, though trying to reform. Our little sister, Harlow, seems like she’s in a better place, at least over the phone. But I haven’t seen her in a couple of years. So who really knows?

“Good point.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up in front of Britta’s house. The windows are open. I hear the buzzing hum of a vacuum.

As we climb out of the car, I snag the table leaf in my grip and head up the steps toward the door. Halfway up the yard, Maxon grabs my arm to pause me. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I already did. Now I’m here to fix it.” Then I shake off his hold.

With a sigh, he follows to the porch. I raise my hand to the bell.

Moments later, Britta pulls the door open. She’s wearing a white sports top that bares most of her flat stomach and a pair of black spandex shorts that start below her navel and end at the tops of her thighs.

My eyes nearly bulge from my fucking head.

“Maxon,” she greets happily, then looks at me with a frown. “Griff. What are you doing here?”

He nudges me to reply. Thanks for smoothing my way, big brother.

“Um, I changed my mind. About the desk. I’m going to bring in my own. Maxon told me the table belongs in your dining room, so we decided to bring it to you and clear out the space.” I hold up the leaf. “If you’ll tell us where you want it…”

She gives me a wary look, opens the door wider, then points to an open area on the hardwood floors behind some stools lined up at a breakfast bar. “It goes over there.”

Maxon nods. “Got it. We’ll get the table back in place. Two shakes.”

He turns away, and I know I’m supposed to follow and help him, but I’m still staring at Britta. She crosses her arms over her exposed middle self-consciously. All she does is show me more of the cleavage she didn’t have before childbirth. The delicious curves of her hips are impossible to miss in these shorts. I know I should stop gawking but…damn.

“You get more beautiful every time I see you.” The words slip out.

She frowns and lifts a hand to smooth out the messy bun she’s sporting and the red bandana knotted at the top of her head. That goddamn engagement ring of hers picks up the sunlight and glints in my face.

“I-I…” She blinks at me like she’s not sure how to reply. “Don’t—”

“I’m not lying to you, just telling you my observation. And now that I’ve opened my big mouth, I’ll go help my brother.”

I turn away before she can say another word. But I feel her eyes on me as I walk to the back of my SUV, where my brother is waiting for me with a barely suppressed grin.

“Smooth,” he remarks as he grips one side of the table and starts easing it out.

I grab the other side. “Shut up.”

He chuckles as we lift the heavy slab of wood. The legs are tall, so we have to slide it clear of the SUV’s hatch. Then we flip it over and cart it to Britta’s door, settling it in the spot she indicated. It looks as if she’s already stored the leaf elsewhere.

I glance around the house. It’s faintly tropical, earth tones with splashes of red here and there. And it’s spotless. That’s my angel. She likes things organized and simple. She has bins of toys tucked away in corners. The kitchen isn’t fancy but it’s functional. The whole place has a homey vibe.

It reminds me of her.

I wish I lived here with Britta and my boy. I’d miss the ocean view from my condo, but to see those two every day, I’d give the beach up in a heartbeat.

“Where are the chairs?” Maxon asks.

“I stored them in the spare bedroom. I’ll grab them.” She heads down the hall.

“Let me help you.” I follow, watching the graceful sway of her hips. “Where’s Jamie?”

She stops and whirls on me. “Napping. Don’t push me.”

I hold up my hands. “Just asking.”

“You were supposed to keep your distance until Monday.”

That was never going to happen, and I won’t apologize when I’m not sorry for finally trying to make us a family.

With a huff, she turns her back on me and opens the first door on the right. There’s a double bed with a woven gray comforter and a pair of white closet doors in one half of the room. The dining room chairs are lined up like soldiers between the two. In the other half of the room is a corner desk with a faintly modern flair and a sleek new iMac. Like everything else I’ve seen about this place, it’s neat and well put together.

“Take this.” She lifts the first chair and proffers it to me, holding it between us.

I take it from her grasp. “Got it.”

The tension between us is a tingle prickling the back of my neck.

“Thanks.” Her hands are shaking. Her gaze won’t quite meet mine.

She’s visibly nervous. Because I make her feel something. Maxon swears she’s still in love with me. If I want Britta back, I need to tell her how I feel. It’s something I’ve historically sucked at. I also have to give her a reason to open up to me in return.

This is my moment. My heart is thudding manically. Maxon stayed in the living/dining room. Jamie is surely sleeping in his crib. And we’re not in the office. This chance alone with her may not come around again soon. All I have to do is kick the bedroom door shut behind me.

Anxiety nearly chokes me. But if I’m ever going to win her back, I can’t give Britta less than my all now.