Briggs (Carolina Reapers 7)

“You’re definitely not,” Cormac said, his brow furrowed. “Can’t believe the asshole would really pull that on you.”

“Yeah, me either. Until Grace told me about him. The face he shows the public is completely opposite of what I’ve seen from him these last couple weeks.” The angry tears were gone, and having vented, my chest felt ten times less tight. I blew out a long breath, raking my fingers through my hair, reality washing over me. I stepped over to where Cormac had taken up a good lean against the arm of my couch and slipped my arms around his neck. “You used your key,” I said.

He visibly swallowed, sliding his hands around my waist. “You told me it was okay…”

“Of course, it is,” I said. “I just wasn’t expecting you. I would’ve cooked or planned something. But, honestly, after the shitstorm of a day I’ve had, I can barely remember what I have in my fridge.”

His eyes lit up at that, and he pushed off the couch, moving his hands to interlace with mine. “I’ve got that covered.”

I tilted my head as he led me through my opened balcony doors. The sky was a deep purple, the last dregs of the day transitioning to night, the city busy and bright across the skyline. But the view wasn’t what made me gasp.

“Cormac,” I said, breathless as he walked me toward my balcony table—fully set with candles, two plates filled with food, and a bottle of my favorite champagne chilling in a bucket of ice next to it. “You…” Emotion clogged my throat, and the sting of tears were back for an entirely different reason.

“Figured you’d be hungry,” he hurried to say, motioning to the table. “And it’s such a beautiful night.”

I swallowed around the knot in my throat but couldn’t form any words. Cormac and I had been very clear from the beginning—this, what we were doing, meant nothing.

But this? He may not have meant for it to…but it meant something to me. To be taken care of…it wasn’t something I was used to.

“Is it too much?” he asked, noting the water in my eyes.

“No,” I finally managed to say. “Cormac, it’s amazing. You’re…I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said, shrugging as he reached for a chair and held it out for me.

I dropped into it and waited until he sat across from me. “It is a big deal. After the day I had? God, this is perfection. Seriously, thank you.”

He opened his mouth before closing it. “Don’t let it get cold,” he said, motioning to my plate of chicken and greens and bread.

I dug in, partly because I was starving and partly because I didn’t want to say what was storming through my soul. The emotions, the need, the relief at seeing him after ten days of being apart.

I’d missed him.

A lot.

Like, a lot more than I should.

And I wanted to tell him…but I was terrified it would send him running in the opposite direction. We agreed to mean nothing to each other, but Cormac had always meant something to me, even when we were at each other’s throats. And after we came together the way we had these last few weeks? God, there was no stopping what rushed inside me.

But I had to stop it.

Because Cormac had been clear with me from the start—we wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything to each other. He was adamant long distance never worked.

So, I ate the beautiful meal he’d prepared for me.

We sipped champagne and fell into easy conversation about his games, and he filled me in on all the Maxim and Sterling drama continuing to unfold in the locker room. At least those brothers weren’t taking swings at each other anymore, but Cormac painted a pretty tense picture—not from Sterling’s end, who was living in romantic bliss—but more from Maxim. Something about old family drama winding him up more than usual.

I relished the conversation long after we’d finished the bottle, and the day had fully given over to night. And it had become so easy with him—the long conversations we had on the phone when we were separated, the eager, passionate returns where I usually didn’t waste a second to strip him bare and climb him like a freaking tree.

But tonight? Tonight he’d listened to me vent. He fed me, joked with me, done everything to make me laugh, smile.

Happy.

This was what it felt like to be happy with someone.

“What is it?” he asked from across the table, noticing my smile slip from where my thoughts had taken me.

I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing a smile to my lips, because what could I say? That I’d just realized how happy he made me, and I was terrified that if I told him, he’d end whatever it was we were doing?