Chapter 17

When I picked an inane comedy that I knew damn well neither of us would find funny, Brandon finally had enough. He gently extricated the remote from my hand and tossed it on the coffee table before turning toward me, straddling my thigh, and looking me straight in the eye.

“Please tell me what’s going on.”

The way he phrased it, as a request without demand, had me releasing a slow breath and trying to get my thoughts in order. He obviously knew there was no point in making it a question. Something was clearly off with me, and the way he spoke indicated he knew it. But he still wasn’t forcing it. His nature wouldn’t allow him to push me too hard. I had to remember that and see this request for what it was. Brandon deserved an answer.