Made for You (The Best Mistake 2)

Brynn wanted to think it was all part of his game. That the recent friendliness between them was disguising some scheme to destroy her life. That he had some diabolical plan that involved trying to string her along like a lovesick ninth grader.

Not that anyone had ever tried to string her along when she was a ninth grader.

Well, she wasn’t playing along. If he wanted to turn down perfectly good—okay, fantastic—sex, then that was his problem.

But on the sixth day of not having heard from him, Brynn began to consider an even worse possibility. What if Will wasn’t playing games at all?

What if he was just…done?

It wasn’t like he was known for long-term relationships. What had made her think that she could keep his interest?

And why did she care? Wasn’t the entire point of a fling that it wasn’t supposed to last? It wasn’t like she was looking for commitment from the guy. And whatever this thing was between them had an expiration date in a couple weeks anyway when she went back to work, went back to blonde.

Went back to boring.

Brynn scowled and scrubbed harder at the bathroom mirror she was trying to get streak-free as the unbidden thought popped into her head. Her normal life wasn’t boring, it was just structured. And if these past couple weeks of carefree living had been some of the best of her life, it was simply because she’d needed a break.

It certainly had nothing to do with a certain six-packed neighbor.

Brynn’s phone rang, and even as her brain ordered her not to drop everything and dash at the phone in hopes that a certain jackass was calling, she found herself scampering just a little bit back to her nightstand to answer it.

But the name on the phone wasn’t his.

“Hey, Soph,” Brynn said, forcing her tone into a bright voice.

“Hey, Soph? You dodge my calls for weeks, and I get a Hey, Soph? I thought you were dead. Or pregnant. Or had some sort of weird rash like that one you had in seventh grade—”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why I haven’t picked up the phone before now.” Brynn caught her reflection in the mirror above her dresser and wandered closer to inspect her skin for new wrinkles. There were two.

“So what gives?” Sophie pressed. “Mom is completely freaking out. Dad thinks you’ve turned into a liberal and are too scared to tell them about it.”

Brynn rolled her eyes even as she felt a twinge of guilt. Her parents were the slightly stiff, semi-neurotic, supercontrolling type. But she’d always had a great relationship with them. Probably because she’d always done everything they’d wanted her to. Hell, probably because she practically was them.

But telling them that she was taking some time off from work and needed a “mental break” without any kind of explanation hadn’t been considerate.

Brynn had always been the quiet, deal with your own shit type of coper, but at the underlying concern in her sister’s voice, she found herself seeking a little validation that she wasn’t totally losing her mind or irrevocably screwing up her life.

“Soph…have you ever felt, you know…lost? Like you don’t know your purpose in life?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Finally Sophie responded. “Yeah, Brynn. I totally do. In fact, I even have a name for it. I call it my twenties.”

Brynn let out a relieved laugh. Of course Sophie would get it. Brynn might have had the rough childhood while Sophie was a perfect little angel, but somewhere along the line, they’d gone and switched places. Sophie had gone from good grades, good schools, good hobbies, to, well…

Their mother had called it “insane free spirit.”

Not that Soph had gone drugs or hippie or anything. She’d just sort of been a floater. Bartending gigs here, waitressing jobs there. It wasn’t until she’d met Gray and been mistaken for a hooker—true story—that she’d finally decided to grab her life by the balls and figure shit out.

But Sophie’s crisis had led her straight to the love of her life.

Brynn was suspecting hers would lead her right back to where she’d started.

“What’s going on, Brynny? How come you’re avoiding everyone?”

Not everyone. But she could hardly tell Sophie that in her time of need she’d turned to an enemy instead of a friend. Even if she wanted to explain it, she couldn’t. Because she still hadn’t figured it out for herself.

“I just needed some space, you know? After James…”

“I have tampons with more personality than James.”