“A promise to what?”
“To be better, damn it. To be good.”
…
As Brett stared into AJ’s anguished green eyes, all the puzzle pieces slipped into place. God, the reason she hadn’t been able to pin down exactly who he was…it was because he was trying to be someone else.
The revelation brought a deep ache to her heart. The All-American good-guy hero image he tried to project was a direct result of his brother’s death. AJ had stepped up to take his perfect brother’s place, and in the process, he’d hidden his true self from the people in his life.
But not from her. Yes, she’d seen his gentleman side. She’d seen the easygoing, playful AJ. But she’d also glimpsed the sides he didn’t show the rest of the world. The bossy alpha male. The fighter. The business owner. The wild man who craved excitement and met any challenge.
“You are good,” she said fiercely. “And if your parents don’t see that, then screw them.”
But even as she said the words, she realized that the issue wasn’t with AJ’s parents. He didn’t see himself as worthy, and it was a flawed belief that had formed the night his brother died.
“Easier said than done,” AJ said in a tired voice. “I can’t just write my folks off. They’re good people, and I love them. It’s not their fault that I keep screwing up.”
“How have you screwed up?” she challenged.
In a monotone voice, he listed off a long list of “faults.” “I didn’t play professional ball like my dad wanted. I got into MMA fighting instead of going to college. I opened a nightclub instead of working for his company. I broke up with Darcy, who they considered the perfect woman.”
He’d mentioned Darcy before, just in passing, but this latest reference made Brett’s shoulders stiffen. Perfect woman, huh?
Did it make her an awful person that she now officially hated AJ’s ex-girlfriend?
“I keep straying off the path I set for myself and disappointing them,” AJ said. “But I can’t screw up anymore. My mom’s health isn’t the greatest these days. She had a heart attack a while back, almost died. She needs grandchildren, a daughter-in-law to talk to…”
“What about what you need?” Brett countered.
His body tensed with visible frustration. “Who says my needs and theirs are mutually exclusive?”
Brett, for one, but she kept her opinion to herself. AJ was agitated enough as it was, and she didn’t want to push him any harder than she already had. But she saw right through his feeble declaration.
He’d said so himself—he only dated nice, “wholesome” girls. But after almost two weeks with the guy, Brett knew his tastes ran toward not so nice. He was wild and rough and absolutely spectacular when he allowed himself to let go.
It suddenly dawned on her that she and AJ weren’t all that different. Both trying to please their families, both fighting their impulsive urges and hiding bits and pieces of themselves from the people they loved.
“C’mon,” he said gruffly. “We should head back before all that ice cream you bought starts to melt.”
They drove back to her apartment in silence, but Brett wasn’t concerned with the lack of conversation. They’d done a lot of talking just now, and her brain was still struggling to work through all the data AJ had fed into it.
AJ the gentleman made an appearance when they reached her place. He carried all the bags upstairs, despite her protests that she could handle at least one. But he was adamant, stepping aside only so she could unlock the door, then marching into her kitchen to help her put away the groceries.
“So chivalrous,” she teased.
“It’s the least I can do after dumping my whole life story on you.”
Brett closed the cupboard and walked over to him, resting her palms on his chest. “Hey, you didn’t dump anything. I wanted to hear it.”
He hesitated. “I’ve never told anyone about how Joey died.”
The confession brought a strange rush of warmth to her chest. “I’m glad you told me.”
He lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can I…uh…how would you feel if I crashed here tonight?”
She blinked in surprise. “You want to sleep over?”
He nodded.
A quick glance at the clock over the fridge revealed that it was already past ten. She had to wake up early for a seven-o’clock appointment because her client couldn’t come any other time. And besides…
“Don’t worry, I’m not in the mood either,” he said as if reading her mind. “And you can kick me out tomorrow morning whenever you have to go.”