Catch But Don't Release

Chapter 5

Emily shuffled into her kitchen, still wrapped in the quiet haze of the morning. Sunlight streamed through the window, catching dust motes in the air as she reached for a glass and filled it with cold water. Her head throbbed faintly—a reminder of laughter, drinks, and a night that still felt half unreal.

She lifted the glass and took a long drink.

Halfway through, her phone buzzed on the counter.

She froze.

Setting the glass down slowly, Emily reached for her phone, her heart already beating faster than it had any right to.

Brody: Hello, love. How are you feeling today?

Her lips curved into a smile before she could stop it.

Emily: Good morning, Brody. I feel a little embarrassed, but okay. Thank you for asking.

She leaned back against the counter, replaying the night in flashes—his smile, his voice, the way he’d looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

The phone buzzed again.

Brody: Nothing to feel embarrassed about. Have you had breakfast?

Emily laughed softly to herself. She knew exactly where this was going—and instead of resisting it, she leaned in.

Emily: To be honest, I woke up not too long ago, so I haven’t had breakfast yet.

There was barely a pause.

Brody: Great. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.

Her breath caught.

She stared at the screen, heart racing, excitement bubbling up so fast it left her a little dizzy.

Emily: I’ll be ready.

The moment she hit send, reality snapped into motion.

Emily rushed through her apartment, showering quickly, brushing her hair, choosing her outfit with far more care than she wanted to admit. She slipped into tight jeans and a soft blouse that hugged her curves just right, pausing in front of the mirror to smooth the fabric down.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “You’ve got this.”

The doorbell rang.

Her heart jumped.

She glanced at her reflection one last time, took a steadying breath, and walked to the door. When she opened it, Brody stood there—effortlessly composed, eyes warm, holding a bouquet of flowers.

For a moment, she forgot how to speak.

“Wow,” she finally said, smiling as she took them. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he replied simply.

“Please, come in. I just need to grab my shoes.”

Brody stepped inside slowly, his gaze never leaving her. Emily felt suddenly, acutely aware of herself—every movement, every breath. She hurried down the hallway to her room, slipping her shoes on quickly, her pulse loud in her ears.

When she stood and turned—

Brody was watching her from the living room.

Their eyes locked.

Something in her chest tightened, her breath catching as the weight of his attention settled over her. Not overwhelming—intent. Focused. Like he was taking her in, unhurried, unapologetic.

She smiled, soft and a little nervous.

“Ready,” she said.

And as Brody returned her smile, stepping closer, Emily knew this breakfast was about to become something far more unforgettable than either of them had planned.

They stepped out of her apartment together, the hallway quiet except for the soft click of Brody pulling the door shut behind them. He moved ahead of her instinctively, opening the building’s front door with an easy, practiced grace and holding it until she passed through.

Outside, a sleek black car waited at the curb, engine idling, driver already stepping out to open the back door.

Emily stopped short.

Her brows knit together as she looked from the car to Brody, surprise flashing across her face. “Brody… what is this?” she asked, half laughing, half unsure. “Are you trying to impress me? This is all a little much.”

He turned to her, calm and unbothered, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Can’t a girl just enjoy the moment?” he said lightly.

Before she could respond, he opened the car door and held it for her, one hand resting casually on the frame, patient and unassuming. He didn’t rush her. He simply waited.

Emily hesitated, then shook her head with a soft laugh. “You’re trouble,” she murmured—but she stepped inside.

Brody followed, settling into the seat beside her. The door closed, sealing them into the quiet, leather‑scented space. The car pulled smoothly away from the curb.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Emily became acutely aware of how close they were—the warmth of his presence, the subtle brush of his arm when the car turned. She folded her hands in her lap, then unfolded them, nerves fluttering in her chest.

Brody glanced at her, noticing everything. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The way her knee bounced once before she stilled it. He wanted to reach for her—but didn’t.

Instead, he said softly, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, smiling at him. “Yeah. Just… not used to this.”

His gaze lingered on her, sincere. “Believe me, neither am I,” he admitted.

The tension between them thickened—not awkward, not uncomfortable—just charged. Full of things not yet said. The city passed outside the window, but Emily barely noticed it. Her mind was on an overload of thoughts and possibilities.

She turned to him. “So… where are we going?”

Brody’s smile returned, slow and deliberate. “A very cute restaurant,” he said. “Somewhere I think you will like.”

A flutter of excitement stirred in her chest, warm and unfamiliar, as anticipation curled through her like a promise she hadn’t yet learned how to name.

And as the car carried them forward, Emily felt it again—that quiet sense that she was stepping into something new, something that might change more than just her morning and, for some reason, that intrigued her.