Page 132 of Pull Me Under

‘Must be intense. All those rescues, life-or-death situations.’ Morgan takes a sip of wine, thoughtful. ‘Creates a bond, I imagine.’

‘You could say that,’ Tom mutters, and Cassie kicks him under the table.

I speak. This is the moment. The door is right there, wide open, and all I have to do is walk through it.

But the words stick in my throat. Years of family history. Dad’s face when I asked about the Trelawneys. The way he still can’t say my name half the time.

Brynn’s knee presses against mine again. Harder this time. Almost impatient.

Say something, that pressure says. I’m right here. Just say it.

And I think about all the ways I’ve been invisible. The spare son. The one who stays. The one who’s been hiding this woman away like a secret when she’s the best thing that’s happened to me in years.

Fuck it.

‘Actually,’ I hear myself say, ‘she’s more than a crewmate.’

The table goes quiet.

Morgan blinks. ‘Sorry?’

‘Brynn.’ I turn to look at her properly, and God, her eyes. That startled hope in them, like she can’t quite believe I’m doing this. ‘She’s not just a crewmate. She’s – we’re⁠—’

‘Together,’ Brynn finishes, and her voice is steady even if her hand is shaking when it finds mine under the table. ‘We’re together.’

Cassie makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like finally. Tom raises his beer in a silent toast. Cal just shakes his head, grinning.

Morgan looks between us, and to his credit, he recovers fast. ‘Well. That explains a few things.’

‘Sorry,’ I say, though I’m not sure what I’m apologising for. Crashing his welcome home dinner. Being a territorial arsehole. Not speaking up sooner.

Morgan waves it off. ‘Don’t be. I was wondering why you kept glaring at me like I’d drowned your cat.’

‘I don’t have a cat.’

‘Hypothetical cat, Jude.’

Brynn laughs – a real laugh, surprised out of her – and it makes me want to laugh back, makes me want to laugh and never stop.

‘But what about…’ She trails off, glancing at me. The question she’s not asking: What about your dad? What about years of bad blood?

I tighten my grip on her hand. ‘I’ll tell him in the morning.’

‘Jude—’

‘I’m not scared of an old rivalry, Brynn.’ I hold her gaze, willing her to understand. ‘My dad’s been angry at ghosts for years. I’m not going to let that stop me from having a chance at real— A chance of…’ I stumble but it’s only for a moment. I swallow. ‘Happiness.’

The table has gone very quiet. Even Tom’s stopped smirking.

Brynn stares at me, lips parted, eyes startling bright. ‘You mean that?’

‘I don’t say things I don’t mean.’ I brush my thumb across her knuckles. ‘Tried the alternative. Not talking, not claiming you, pretending this isn’t what it is. I’m done with that.’

‘Jude…’

‘Come home with me.’ It’s not a demand. A request. An offering. ‘I know Cassie’s made pudding and I’m probably being rude, but I’d really like to take you home now and show you exactly how done I am with pretending.’

Cassie clears her throat. ‘The pudding will keep.’