God, she loved him.
More than anything in the entire world.
And wasn’t that just dramatic.
Okay, so she loved him. That wasn’t something new. But it was a little terrifying. Especially now that she’d come to the conclusion that she had never loved another man the way that she loved him. And she doubted she ever would.
Remembering that Kylie had asked her a question, Jessie turned her attention back to the three women standing behind her. “I’m gonna tell him that I love him,” she whispered, praying she didn’t cry.
“Good for you, girl,” Zoey shot back. “He’s been miserable, you know.”
“No, I don’t know. I’m the asshole who sent him away, and he’s the smart one who stayed away.”
“Not because he doesn’t care about you,” V told her. “Woman, I’m not one to hand out advice, because Lord knows, I’ve made some foolish mistakes in my time and I gave Zane a run for his money, but if you want my two cents . . . Go after him. And when you grab hold, never let him go. Sometimes it takes a little shakeup for us to realize just what we’ve got.”
“What if he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me?” Jessie asked, talking to anyone who would listen.
“What if, what if, what if. That shit don’t matter,” Kylie told her firmly. “You won’t know until you try.”
Easier said than done, Jessie thought to herself. What if Braydon didn’t want to be with her anymore? What if he thought she was just a few screws short of a hardware store? What would she do then?
“I think you need to go on out there, hold your head up high, and claim the man that you love,” Kylie told her. “And then, have a beer. You sure as shit need one.”
Jessie laughed at that. She did need something to put her mind at ease, but she wasn’t sure a beer would cut it.
Somehow, Jessie managed to make it to her feet. She smoothed down her sleeveless blouse and wiped her hands on her shorts. She didn’t look fancy, but, probably because she wanted to make her feel better, V had taken the time to fix Jessie’s hair into some fancy, intricate knot, and for whatever reason, it did make her feel a little better.
“Okay, I’m going out there,” Jessie told them, sounding as though she were about to take on a battalion of angry zombies during the apocalypse.
“Good girl,” Zoey said. “Knock him dead.”
Jessie laughed, but it was strained. Her nerves had tied her stomach in knots and her knees felt like they were made of Jell-O. Even hearing that Braydon had gone to her house before coming to the party didn’t help much, although she continued to remind herself of that fact as she reached for the doorknob.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door to Ethan’s guest bedroom open and stepped out into the hall. She looked left, then right, and then straight ahead. And that’s when she saw him.
Oh, God. He looked so good.
Braydon was wearing board shorts, a T-shirt that showed off his incredibly chiseled chest, and those tattered canvas flip-flops that he said were just for when he didn’t feel like putting his boots on. He had on his John Deere cap, backward, and she was instantly reminded of the night she met him.
“Jessie.”
When he said her name, her stomach lurched forward, but her feet did not.
At least not until Kylie gave her a not-so-gentle nudge from behind. At that point, she stumbled, but she managed to right herself as she made her way closer to him. She spared her sister a quick glance, seeing that they were all following her out into the hallway. Turning back, she locked her eyes on the sexiest man she’d ever met.
“Braydon.”
He was staring at her, studying her like he hadn’t seen her in months, and the way his eyes caressed her face almost reverently made her heart lapse into a double time rhythm.
“Do you mind if we talk?” he said, at the same time she said, “Could we talk?”
When he smiled, some of her anxiety dissipated. And when he reached for her hand, Jessie thought the floor might just come up to meet her face. She was that off balance, and she knew she shouldn’t be. Just because he said he wanted to talk didn’t mean that it was going to be good.
“No hanky-panky in there, you two,” Sawyer said as they walked past him.
Jessie stopped short and stared at him. “Is that your dog?” she asked as she glanced at the precious bundle of blond fur that he was holding in his arms.
“This is Buster. Buster, this is Jessie. Give her a kiss.”
Jessie laughed when Sawyer thrust the little dog near her face. She was greeted by a warm tongue on her cheek. “Buster? A boy?”