The Change Up (The Brentwood Boys, #5)

by Meghan Quinn

“It’s not that easy.” I shake my head. “She’s so fucking important to me. If I make a move and she’s not interested, I could fuck over the best thing in my life, my rather unstable and rocky life. She’s been the only constant through all the years. She’s never left my side. She was there to hold my hand after my mom left us. She was there when my dad started abusing alcohol. She was the one cheering me on in the stands when my brother went to college. She was there when I was drafted and then when my dad passed. She was there every fucking second of the days I was back in Woodland.” I glance up at Linc. “She was there, holding me tightly, when Jamie broke my heart. She’s been a part of every milestone in my life that’s carved and shaped me into the person I am today. I can’t jeopardize losing her over some weird feeling that’s in the pit of my stomach.”

“For always being there for me, especially when I needed you the most. I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. Not just from you sitting on the sidelines cheering me on, but from the late-night safety place you gave me. For always leaving your window unlocked so I could crawl in next to your bed and use the blankets you kept on the floor for me. For waking me up before the sun rose so I could make it back to my room undetected. For the many nights you kept snacks hidden for me in different places so I didn’t go hungry. For never ever judging my situation, but instead loving me when I wasn’t getting love anywhere else.”

I love this girl more than just a friend. I think I always have but never let myself consider it until the other night, when I thought I could lose her. That I could scare her so much with my anger, with my temper, that she’d walk out the door. Leave me.

Jason then proceeded to grill me about Kinsley, asking me all about her: if I’d made a move, if I want to make a move, if I love her, if I want to marry her, if I want to have babies with her, if I see myself at the age of seventy with her at my side, if I want to die The Notebook style, hand in hand on the bed with her . . . And I fucking said yes to every single question, in my head of course, because I’m not a damn fool.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, do you know that?” he says, stealing every ounce of air from my lungs. “Even when you cry, you’re gorgeous. It makes it difficult to keep my hands off you, to keep my body away from yours. To hold back any longer.”

His thumb runs over my lip and he lowers his forehead to mine. His hands shake against my cheek, and it hits me like a ton of bricks, something I never expected from Maddox. He’s . . . nervous. His hesitancy, the unsteadiness of his voice, the shake in his grip. He’s nervous, which means . . . does he want to make a move but doesn’t know how to?

“Which is why I’ve battled with what to do for a while. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to even tempt fate, but I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Every time you walk in a room, Kinsley, I need to touch you somehow. I realized pretty quickly that the feeling wasn’t simply friendship, it was more. I want more with you. I feel it deep in my soul that we’re supposed to be more than just friends, that you’re in my life for a bigger reason. I’ve been fighting with that reason, hoping it wasn’t the need pulsing through me every time I thought of you, but no matter how hard I tried to ignore the obvious, I couldn’t. These feelings aren’t going away, and I don’t want them to. I want you to be with me.”

I’m terrified of the way I feel for you. It’s so strong. It feels like I can actually taste my need for you.”

“I feel the same way. Like if I don’t see you in the morning, walking around in your boxer briefs, I might pass out from anticipation. If I don’t hold your hand at least once in a day, my day isn’t complete. If I don’t hear you tell me good night, I can’t get any sleep. With each day, I’ve become more and more dependent on our connection, of having you near me. And that’s what’s terrifying, because what if you realize you don’t want to be around me anymore?”

“I draw you all the fucking time. From memory, I draw you. It soothes me, makes me feel like you’re near, protecting my heart, easing the tension that’s constantly building up in me.” He lowers the book and says, “I love you, Kinny, and I want all of you, every last inch of you.”

in my heart, I’d already claimed you as mine.”

“No, Kinsley, I’m in love with you. I’m so fucking in love with you that I can’t think of anything else most of the day.

‘No, she was my courage. How could I possibly call her . . . without her?’”