Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Penny

I wake up to an empty bed and a suspiciously heavy blanket cocooning me like I might try to escape,

For a second, I’m still half–asleep, blinking up at the celling and trying to remember where I am, what day it is, why I feel weirdly happy

Then it hits me.

Last night.

Tyler’s arm around my waist, his laugh low against my ear, the way he kissed me everywhere like he could make me laugh just by breathing too

close.

It wasn’t perfect – but it was ours.

The good kind of messy.

The real kind.

I roll over, pushing the blanket off, and spot a little neon pink post–it note stuck to the edge of my nightstand, fluttering slightly in the draft from the window.

9AM practice. Love you.

His handwriting looks like it barely survived the pen.

I grin, still bleary, and press the note down flat with my palm like it might somehow preserve the way my chest feels – light and stupid and way too full.

Tyler’s gone.

Practice waits for no man, apparently.

And for the first time in what feels like years, I have nothing I absolutely have to do today.

No class.

No rehearsal.

No parent–mandated dentist appointment hanging over my head.

Just… space.

The thought should thrill me, but instead, it feels like standing

swim.

on the edge of a really tall diving board and realizing you’re not sure how to

Still.

I can’t just lay here all day like a soggy croissant.

I sit up, rubbing my face, and realize

–

belatedly that I’m wearing exactly half the amount of clothing I fell asleep

ich means nothing

Thanks for that, Tyler.

I yank on the first pair of underwear and leggings I find, and look for last night’s tank top.

Chapter 35: Penny

Once I’m somewhat decent, I head straight to the barre installed along the far wall of my room.

Just because I don’t have official practice doesn’t mean I get to slack off.

That’s how you end up with pulled hamstrings and shattered dreams.

I plant my foot on the barre, bend forward into a stretch, and exhale slowly.

It feels good.

Grounding.

My body knows the routine better than my brain does muscle memory kicking in while my mind floats somewhere else entirely.

Mostly back to Tyler –

the way he whispered dumb jokes against my hair, the way he kissed me like there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

It had been just kissing. Well, maybe a little more.

Messy, giggly, slow kisses and touching that went on forever and made the room spin a little.

No panic.

No rushing.

No awkward fumbling to do more, be more.

Just him and me and the quiet understanding that this

–

this

was enough.

I switch legs, lean deeper into the stretch.

Thirty minutes later, my muscles are humming, my stomach is growling, and my hair has fully rebelled into a chaotic bun perched on top of my

head.

Breakfast time.

I shuffle down the stairs, yawning into my sleeve, dreaming of eggs and pancakes and possibly an entire loaf of bread.

I pull open the fridge.

And immediately let out a noise somewhere between

The fridge is a barren wasteland.

One lonely slice of processed cheese.

a

groan

and

a

cry

for help.

A jar of pickles that looks like it predates my existence.

Some almond milk that’s definitely plotting against me.

“Nope,” I say aloud, shutting the door like it personally insulted me.

Right.

Grocery run it is.

2/5

Chapter 35: Penny

I shove my feet into sneakers, grab my keys, and head out before my stomach stages a full mutiny.

The grocery store is blessedly empty a few retirees arguing over apples, one mom bribing a toddler with the promise of coical.

I grab a cart and dive in, mentally preparing the most uninspired grocery list known to man.

Bread.

Eggs.

Yogurt.

Maybe some token vegetables so my parents don’t come home and stage an intervention.

I grab a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs, a bunch of bananas that look slightly less sad than the others, and an emergency stash of chocolate that definitely qualifies as an essential food group.

I’m halfway through the dairy aisle, contemplating whether I should spring for the fancy Greek yogurt that makes me feel like I have my life. together, when I turn the corner and almost ram my cart into someone else’s.

“Whoa!

A familiar voice laughs.

I look up, startled.

Mr. Hayes stands there, grinning at me like I just made his day.

He’s wearing jeans and a slightly wrinkled hoodie, his cart already half full of actual grown–up groceries like potatoes and real meat and not just frozen waffles.

Before I can say anything, he pulls me into a hug the kind of hug that’s solid and warm and doesn’t leave room for awkwardness.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, pulling back with a smile. “How are you?”

I shrug, smiling back.

“Good. Tired. Always tired.”

He chuckles, steering his cart out of the middle of the aisle so we’re not blocking traffic.

“You hear anything yet? About the audition?”

I shake my head.

“Not yet. Supposed to find out by the end of the week.”

He makes a face like he’s already personally offended they haven’t called.

“They’d be fools not to pick you,” he says, like it’s a fact.

I feel my cheeks warm a little.

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