It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

Piper jogged after him. “Oh my God. Would you just stop and listen to me?”

Brendan’s legs took the stairs two at a time, seeing nothing in front of him. Just moving on autopilot. “I was right here, ready to listen this whole time, Piper.”

She followed. “You’re not being fair! Everything is new to me. This town. Being in a relationship. I’m . . . I’m sorry it took me longer than it should have to let it all go, but letting everything go is a lot to ask.”

“I know that, goddammit. I do. But if you weren’t even considering this, us, you shouldn’t have kept stringing me along like one of your followers when you were just plotting your exit behind my back.”

Reaching the bedroom, he glanced back over his shoulder to find her looking stricken. And his stomach bottomed out, his heart protesting anything and everything but making her happy. Soothing her. Keeping her in his arms at all times.

What the hell was wrong with him? He hated himself for the tears in her eyes, for the insecurity in her posture. God, he loathed himself. But the fear of losing her was winning out over common sense. Over his instinct to comfort Piper, tell her he loved her a thousand times. Making him want to rage, to protect himself from being gutted like a fish.

“Look, Piper,” he said unevenly, pulling his packed gym bag out from beneath the bed. “You just need to think about what you actually want. Maybe you can’t do that when I’m constantly in your face.”

“Brendan.” She sounded panicked. “Stop! You’re being ridiculous. I wasn’t going to leave. Put the bag away. Put it away.”

His hands shook with the need to do as she pleaded. “You never told me you were staying. You wanted an out. A fail-safe. Whether you think so or not.”

“It’s a big decision,” she breathed. “But I was—”

“You’re right. It is a big decision.” He swallowed the urge to rage some more. To rage against her potentially leaving. To rage at the awful possibility of coming home from the trip and finding her unhappy. Or gone. Or regretful. But all he could do was face it head-on and hope he’d done enough to make her stay. All he could do was hope his love was sufficient. “I’m going to spend the night on the boat,” he managed, though his throat was closing. “Think about what you want to do. Really think. I can’t handle this will-she-or-won’t-she bullshit anymore, Piper. I can’t handle it.”

She stayed frozen as he went down the stairs, past a wide-eyed Hannah.

“I’ll be at the dock in the morning,” Piper shouted, coming down the stairs, her expression now determined—and he loved her so goddamn hard in that moment. Loved every layer, every facet, every mood, every complication. “I already know what I want, Brendan. I want you. And I’ll be at the dock to kiss you good-bye in the morning. Okay? You want to storm out? Fine. Go. I’ll be the strong one this time.”

He couldn’t speak for a moment. “And if you’re not there in the morning?”

Piper threw out a belligerent hand. “Then I’m falling back on my safety nets. Is that what you want me to say? You have to have it in black and white?”

“That’s who I am.”

“I know and I love who you are.” Temper crackled in her beautiful eyes. “Fine, if I’m not there tomorrow morning, I guess you’ll know my decision. But I will be there.” She blinked several times against the moisture in her eyes. “Please . . . don’t doubt me, Brendan. Not you. Have faith in me. Okay?”

With his heart in his mouth, he turned to go. Before he reached for Piper and forgot the argument and lost himself in her. But the same problems would exist in the morning, and he needed them solved once and for all. He needed the mystery gone. Needed to know if he’d have a lifetime with her or a lifetime of emptiness. The suspense was eating him alive.

He took one last look at her through the windshield of his truck before backing out of the driveway—and he almost shut off the ignition and climbed out. Almost.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Piper went to sleep pissed and woke up even pissier.

She rocketed out of bed toward the dresser drawers Brendan had designated for her, snatching out a black sports bra and red (the color of anger) running pants, along with some ankle socks.

As soon as she completed a quick run and walked Abe over to the museum, she was going to strut down that dock like it was a fashion week runway and kiss the captain’s stupid mouth. She’d leave him hard and panting and feeling like a massive jerk, then she’d sashay home.

Home. To Brendan’s house.

She stomped down the stairs, bringing a sleepy-eyed Hannah out of her room. “Are you ready to talk yet?”