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I didn’t catch whatever retort she threw over her shoulder that had Broderick laughing and following her. Alice began buzzing with conversation again, but the chaotic room around me seemed to fade into the background as I grew more acutely aware of the fact that he was here. That his focus was directed toward me. If my spidey-senses were correct, Jameson remained embedded into the threshold, his attention like a physical weight against my skin. I tried to keep my focus on Alice’s excitement, vaguely aware the room was dripping in laughter, like a summer jar of lemon blossom honey: sweet, light, and full of smiles. But it was the man leaning against the doorframe watching us without uttering a word that sent my skin prickling, his focus as good as any touch.
Heat stirred in my belly like melted chocolate, bubbling and churning as nerves kicked up. Refusing to grant his curiosity my focus, I nodded as though I’d been paying attention, and tried to concentrate on sweet Alice.What in God’s name is she saying?
“Anyway, I just put in an application for this apartment, and it would be a freaking dream come true. It’s an old Victorian house repurposed as individual units, with original hardwood floors and great enormous windows.”
Mirroring her dreamy, adorable smile, I said, “I bet the details are incredible.” She was so excited, I actually felt bad for being so wrapped up in her beautiful brother and his mere ability to inhale.
Alice groaned as I forced myself to sip the water she’d slid my direction. “Stunning. When the light hits, the whole place glows. It’s to die for–” As she told me the details, the weight of his presence became way too freaking much, heat creeping up my neck and chest. Would alcohol hurt or help?
Setting down my glass, I quickly said, “I’m so sorry, Alice. I need the restroom. Please hold that thought.”
“Second door on the left!” She chirped, pointing at the hallway before snatching up her wineglass. I thanked all that was holy that it was the one opposite of the stormy presence in the corner and scooted my chair back in before bolting for my shot at freedom.
Family pictures lined the walls here, any previously blank slab of drywall decorated in their story, right down to the small spots between doorways. There was the distinct possibility I was actually recognizing what tiny, adorable cherub face belonged to which sibling, but I didn’t want to risk running into Jameson enough to linger. Zipping into the second door to the left, I sighed as I hid like the coward I was, only to fly out of my skin when someone sucked down a breath behind me. Whirling, I looked down to find Brexley sitting with her back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks, knees tucked against her chest.
“Brex?” I knelt beside her. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Watery baby blues blinked up at me, her chest rising faster and harder than was probably healthy. Was she hyperventilating in here?!
“I can’t do this.”
“Sweetie,do what?”
She gave an indignant little squeak like I ought to know exactly what she was talking about. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not yet.”
“You gotta give me more than that.” That dumpster fire of a family had left my bestie with a tremendous amount of baggage. Not thewheel it behind you and stuff it in the overhead binkind of baggage, theone hundred dollar penalty to check it in cargo kind of baggage. Namely, an intense fear of commitment. She’d almost run off when she and Rhyett got serious, because of some ridiculous inferiority complex. Thank all that was holy, Rhyett has the patience of a god and gave her the space and time to think. “We already talked about Rhyett and the family, Brex. None of that has changed.”
Brexley’s legs slipped out from under her like she’d suddenly lost control of them. I was about to sit beside her when I spotted the little white and pink stick in her hands.
“Oh,” I said, the word coming out in a whoosh. “Brex?”
She held it up, sliding a second one out from behind it, both showing me little blue positive signs.
“I’m gonna be an auntie?” I said, fighting back tears as she nodded at me, eyes glossy. “Oh Brex, that’s amazing. What do you mean you can’t do this? You were born for this!”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know.”
“Very reassuring. What if I end up like—”
“If you say your mother, I’m going to have a conniption. You are nothing like that deadbeat bitch, Brex. Not on yourworstdays.” Her nervous laugh brought a smile to my face. “And look around you, honey. Forget the fact that I will be a freaking helicopter for you and a cool auntie for her. Do you honestly think a single one of those siblings out there will let you feel alone or overwhelmed for even a minute? You have an army, sweetheart. Rhyett gave you that.”
She sniffled as she nodded, eyes jerking up when someone knocked on the door. My heart did a somersault. Hell, it did an entire Olympics-worthy gymnastics routine. Jameson Rhodes was leaning against the threshold, concern furrowing his brows.
Jameson
There are few things I loathed more than a woman crying—not the womanforcrying, but that something or someone coulddo somethingthat wouldmakea woman cry. Then the ensuing helplessness that made my palms sweat. So, finding Brexley and Skittles in a heap on the floor, both glassy-eyed or with tears streaming, was like a nightmare given life. They both jerked around when I knocked on the doorframe.
“Uh, everything alright in here?”
“Yeah,” they said in unison, although my latest temptation seemed sincere while Brex’s lip trembled.Awe, hell.I really didn’t feel like kicking Rhyett’s ass but if he fucked this up…
“Something I can help with?”
“Where’s your brother?” Skittles asked, too sweetly. I didn’t have time to be suspicious or make a joke, because I knew who she was looking for and I valued my balls attached. If one crying woman was bad, the best friend of said crying woman wasterrifying. Women went feral for each other. Once, when Elora was being picked on, Alice—who is by far the quietest and sweetest of the six—busted a teenage boy’s foot, kneed him in the balls, and broke his nose. You don’t mess with sisters or best friends. Ever. It’s against the code.
“I think he was heading out to take a phone call.”
