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“Oh, I don’t know. To remind me he has a killer set of abs while I look like a fluffy bunny?” My sister shakes her head. “Honestly, I think it’s because he just wants me to see his pretty little smirk when he’s shirtless and then it makes me remember I want our kids to look just like their daddy.”
“I mean, there are worse people for them to look like. But to be fair, I hope they get the Johnson eyes.” I wink, squeeze her once more, and then release her as I glance at Ember, whose brows are lowered as she clicks through pictures on the camera. “Did I ruin the lighting?”
Her long dark ponytail swishes as she looks up. “Actually, yes. But luckily, we got some before you barged in on us. Shouldn’t you be helping an old lady across the street or arresting a criminal or something?”
Because I’m the older brother and I have special rights to my sister’s baking, I snag one of the scones from the tray on the island and lean my hip against the counter. “My job consists of more things than arresting criminals, thank you very much.”
“What, eating cranberry orange scones while breaking into a photoshoot?” There’s a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Huh. I forgot they added that to your job description, but now I remember reading about it in section 103-C.”
“In what?” I bite into the soft, dense scone and my taste buds collectively swoon over the melody of fruity yet subtle flavors.
“Section 103-C of the Law Enforcement Manual,” she states matter-of-factly.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, no, that’s not a thing, Em.”
“But it could be.” She manages to stare me down—or up, because even with me slightly slouching, she’s humorously shorter than me—for all of three seconds before her lips morph into a grin. “So, why did you barge in, then?”
“First of all, I didn’t barge, and second, I could ask why you’re even in here? I thought you weren’t allowed to be in kitchens after—”
“Yeah, yeah, we all remember how the fire department had to come out because I burned a freaking pizza, okay?” She levels her best Ember-glare, which is really just narrowing her eyes with a grin on her lips, at me. “No need to hold it over my headeverytime I step into a kitchen.”
“Actually, they added that to my job description too. Did you not read section 104-A?”
Ember scoffs. “The manual’s not actually a thing, remember?”
“But it could be,” I tease, finishing off the last of my scone. “No, I’m here because…” I pause and look over my shoulder at my sister, who had started tidying up the island. Now she’s looking at me, one auburn brow raised in question. It feels hot in here. Did I let too much air in when I was waiting for the photoshoot to be over? I think I did. I adjust my collar, my vest suddenly pressing in on me and making sweat pool underneath my shirt. “I, uh, just wanted to stop by and say hi.” We all know that’s a lie. “You know, grab a scone. Make sure the fire department wasn’t needed. That sort of thing.”
“You’re lying.” See? My sister knows me (too) well.
I try for an amused snort but instead get a sound that is like a mix between a dying cow and a rooster that never got its properer-er-er-er-er. The reason I know what the latter sounds like is because Ember’s rooster, Libby, has an unfortunate set of vocal cords. “What, a guy can’t drop in and say hi to his little sister?”
“It’s a thoughtful sentiment, but I’m not buying it.” Jess tilts her head, brows arched. “Why are you here?”
I blow out a breath. “I need to talk to you.” My gaze darts to Ember. “Alone, preferably.”
Ember may be a lot of things, but rude is not one of them. I don’t think the girl—or should I saywomannow that’s she’s twenty-one? –has a mean bone in her body. Probably could benefit her to have some semblance of one, but right now she does not. Which is why she doesn’t press what I said.
“Okay.” She loops the camera strap around her neck and grabs her phone from the island, then glances at Jess. “I’ll try editing a few of these and then we can see what we think later.”
Jess nods with a smile, but I think she can sense I’m not just here to talk about her delicious scones, so it’s slightly duller than normal. “Sounds good. I can’t wait to see them.”
Ember smiles at both of us briefly, then slips out the side door, leaving only my sister and I. Funny how small this kitchen feels when I have this impending conversation looming over my head. Realistically, it’s spacious and there are lots of windows providing plenty of natural light. With the white oak cabinets, stainless steel appliances, marble countertops, and neutral accessories/décor, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Food Network approached Jess about having her own cooking show, filmed right here in this space. Even I, the man to which aesthetic is as foreign as another language (except Spanish; I have a decent grasp on basic conversational skills), know this space is pleasing to the eye. Too bad it won’t just hide my insecurities for me in its pretty cupboards.
I clear my throat as I make myself meet Jess’s blue eyes. Like it or not, it’s go time.
It takes less than five minutes for me to dump everything out at once, which is probably the reason my sister is staring at me incredulously and why I feel like bolting. We decided to take our conversation to the dock, mainly because I wanted the option of jumping in the lake at my easy access, but I don’t move from where I’m standing. I’m not that kind of brother. I don’t drop a bomb and then leave Jess to clean up the mess. I’ve never been that way, and I don’t plan to start now.
“So…you were going to…” Jess says each word slowly as though she’s only now learning the English language. “You were going to getmarried?”
“No. Not exactly.” I set my hands on my belt, then stuff them in my pockets, then get frustrated and let them hang limp by my side. “I wanted you to meet Sierra the weekend of my graduation, talk to you about her, and then, yes, propose.”
“You’d already looked at rings?”
I let the question hang in the air for a moment, forcing myself to hold her gaze. “I was going to use Mom’s.”
She doesn’t say it, but I can guess, if she were to say something, it would be“Oh.”And I can’t blame her. It’s a lot to hear that the brother who’s been so very closed off to the idea of a relationship or family for so long was ready to propose to a girl he’d been dating for only a month. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame Jess if she just pushed me right off the dock. I do think the water would feel amazing in contrast to the sun beating down on us, but I don’t say that. I don’t want to invite her shoving me in, because as good as it would feel, my uniform would be incredibly weighty under the water and I’m not interested in going to the station drenched, nor in buying a new phone.
As far as emotionally, though? I feel lighter. Not completely free because one conversation can’t really do that for me, but I don’t feel the weight of not telling Jess about Sierra pressing down on my shoulders. I always thought I would tell Jess, but that last conversation between Sierra and I scalded me bad. Because even though it’s hard to remember how, I truly did love Sierra. I can’t speak for her—and I guess she ultimately spoke for herself—but when I told herI love youfor the first time on our third date, I meant it. And when we discussed a future together where we’d live in Balsam Falls so I could work at my department of choice and she could still pursue a career in fashion blogging, where we would have children and a shared home and the whole nine yards, I genuinely wanted it. It’s just unfortunate she didn’t feel the same way.
