12. Emily

EMILY

"Here'sto another New York Times best seller."

I clinked my glass to Mary's. She'd been one of my first clients after I'd gone out on my own, and half of my current client roster could be linked back to her. She was in her early sixties and stunning, her shoulder-length gray hair a soft silver that shimmered along with her blue eyes.

We used to be almost neighbors when I'd lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, but we still met for dinner occasionally, usually to celebrate publishing her latest book or if we'd needed an intense discussion over edits to the one she was working on. Either instance involved more drinks than I could usually keep up with, but I'd kept it to only a couple tonight since I was driving home.

"Here's to selling enough books to afford to keep writing them," Mary said before downing the rest of her martini. "It helps manage the disappointment when you aim low."

I laughed. "I absolutely see that logic. So what else is going on besides mapping out your next four book releases."

"Nothing, really. The kids are all out of college, and the last one moved out as of last month. So, more time to write, which means more words for you."

"That's totally fine with me."

"Glad to hear it," she said. "What's new with you? Embracing the single life?"

"I don't know what you'd call embracing. I haven't had time to try to meet anyone."

"This place has some good-looking single guys." She turned, sweeping her gaze over the crowd behind us. "When I leave to get my train, you should try to make a new friend."

I had made a new friend out of an old friend, and that was probably the reason for my lack of motivation in meeting anyone new. I always loved seeing Mary, but it was great to spend the evening with someone who didn't know Jesse, our history, or our convoluted present.

Speaking to Jesse every day didn't help the confusion, and the unanswered text I'd sent this afternoon gnawed at me. He never went this long without responding, and other than my pesky attachment to him, something felt off.

"I'll see." I surveyed the group of guys in suits by the bar. "I'd bet most of those men are attached and wanted a drink after they got off the train before they go home to their families."

"You never know. One might be available enough for a good time." Her brows jumped.

"I'll see. I'm glad you made the trip in, but next time, I'll come to you."

"Don't be silly. I like coming to Long Island. It's like a small town but is big enough so that everybody's not in your business."

"Ah, spoken like someone who only visits and doesn't live here."

She laughed. "I suppose. It's not so secluded that there's only one of everything, but it's cozy. I can see why you wanted to come back."

"It is, compared to the Upper West Side, I suppose. It's a lot more cost-effective to be back. I was lucky to find an apartment at a decent price since the coziness can get pricey, depending on where you look."

"I could see you having a nice small-town romance here. Maybe that could be next up. I can use you as inspiration."

"That sounds like a boring book," I said with a chuckle. "Don't do that."

"I better get my train." She flicked her wrist up to glance at her watch. "You're sure I can't treat you?"

"Nope. Least I could do for you making the trip," I said, grabbing the check when she reached for it. "Plus, I write it off anyway." I winked as I dug out my credit card.

She stood and pulled me in for a hug. "Fine. I'll treat you if this one does make the New York Times."

"You mean when," I said. "Safe trip back."

"You too, even though you're close." She pulled on her jacket and motioned to the bar. "And go have some fun."

"Sure," I said, waving as she made her way out of the entrance. I handed the waitress my card and scanned the dining area. The restaurant was an old library, and the walls were decorated with replicas of classic titles. I'd chosen it more for proximity, but the food and drinks were good, and it was fun to pretend to eat in a library.

I'd set up my life in such a way that I was the one to make all my own choices. While I had no regrets, I wished I had a juicy story that Mary could pillage for her next best seller.

I signed my receipt and pulled on my jacket, taking another glance at the bar, and I stilled when I spotted someone familiar. I could only see him from the back and couldn't make out his face. His shoulders worked under his dress shirt as he hunched over whatever he was drinking.

But I would know Jesse anywhere.

No matter how long or short his hair was, it always curled at the back of his neck, right below his ears. It had been adorable when we were younger, and it was downright sexy now, no matter how much I didn't want to notice.

I darted across the room when Jesse wobbled on the stool as if he was about to fall off. As I approached, I spotted two empty stools on either side of him. Why was Jesse drinking alone? I searched for Caden in the crowd, hoping he was here with Jesse and maybe had just gone to the restroom, but I saw no drinks on the bar other than the one clutched in Jesse's hand.

We'd snuck a beer or two in high school, but I'd never seen him drunk. I didn't know what his drinking habits had been once he was of legal age, but getting this drunk alone didn't seem like him. My blood ran cold at why he'd be here like this.

I grabbed his arm as he veered to one side, muttering a curse as I lifted him upright. His confused gaze slid to mine as he searched my face.

"Jesse? What's going on?"

His hooded eyes widened in recognition, a sleepy smile drifting across his mouth.

"Hey, Legs," he said, slurring his words with a husky rasp. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Fuck, you look good." He curled his arm around my waist and yanked me closer.

I winced at the potent stench of whiskey on his breath before he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

"Are you here alone?" I spied a suit jacket crumpled on the floor in front of him and leaned over to grab it. "Is this yours?"

His only response was a groan as he nuzzled my neck.

"Jesse!" I pushed his shoulders back to search his face. His loosened tie dangled over his shirt, open to the second button with one flap of the collar up, I supposed from the way he was leaning against the counter.

"I parked across the street this morning to take the train into the city for a work thing." He swung his arm behind him and pointed toward the parking lot with his thumb. "I stopped here for a drink, which led to another and to another." His head bobbled, his eyes almost shut other than the tiny slit I noticed in one eyelid. "After the second drink, I figured I'd call Caden later to get me, so I just kept drinking."

"Did you call him yet?"

"I texted him," he said, bending to glance at his phone screen and almost knocking his forehead against it before I caught him in time to pull him back. "At least, I think I did. I'll text a cab or Uber or something later."

"No, you won't. I'll take you home."

"What for? I have no one to go home to. I'm a free bachelor tonight," he said, this time the words coming out more garbled than slurred.

"Where's Maddie?"

"I pulled her out of school for a couple of days so my parents could take her to that indoor water park out east to distract her from tomorrow. But I couldn't forget tomorrow. I tried, though." He picked up his glass and slammed it down with a hysterical chuckle.

It was a holiday weekend, so there was no game tomorrow.

"Distraction from tomorrow?"

He nodded, crumpling his face. He blinked away whatever had just come over him and tilted his head back, sucking up the last drops of liquor.

"They'll be back in the morning, so we can all go to the cemetery later."

My stomach sank even more.

"To see Tessa?"

"Yep. I have to go home and look for a shovel to bury the cupcake Maddie and my mother baked. At least I don't have to set my alarm to call so early in the morning this year to make sure I'm the first one to tell my baby sister happy birthday. I was the first every fucking year, you know. I guess I still could, we never shut her phone off, but she won't answer. Be spooky as shit if she did, right?"

His head fell back, a hysterical and eerie laugh falling from his lips.

Shit.

Tomorrow was Tessa's birthday, the first one her family would celebrate without her. He'd probably come here to be numb or grieve for his sister without her daughter or anyone else watching. Either way, my heart cracked right down the middle for this broken and devastated big brother who seemed to have finally had enough of pretending through his pain.

"Jesse, I'm so sorry."

"I know you're sorry," he clipped. "Everybody's sorry. Instead of singing ‘Happy Birthday' to her like I've done every year since she was born, I have to visit her headstone instead. It's fucking unfair, Emily." I caught a quiver in his chin when his voice cracked.

"I agree," I said, rubbing my hand up and down his back. "It's very fucking unfair."

He dropped his head into his hands, and I couldn't tell if his shaky breaths were from rage or tears.

"Excuse me," I called to the bartender, waving the arm that I wasn't using to keep Jesse from falling over. "Can we settle his bill? Quickly?" I jerked my head to Jesse and raged at the bartender's nonchalant nod. I had no idea how much he'd had to drink, and I guessed since it was becoming crowded, they couldn't police everyone. Still, a man almost sliding off his seat should've been cut off a while ago.

I propped my purse onto the bar and dug out my credit card, flinging it at the bartender when he set the bill in front of us.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to throw it. I just need to get him home."

Sympathy flitted over his features as he furrowed his gray brow at us.

"No problem," he said. "I'll run this now, and you can be on your way." He darted his eyes from Jesse to me. "Do you need help?"

"Hopefully not if you run the card in the next five minutes." I barked out a nervous chuckle, adjusting Jesse's arm around my neck.

Jesse wasn't a bulky guy—his body was nothing but lean muscle as he pressed it against me—but he was well over six feet tall. I needed to pile him into my car and get him through his front door as soon as possible because I couldn't carry him alone if he lost consciousness.

"All right, Jess. Let's go. You're coming home with me."

"Now you're talking," he said, a lazy smirk on his lips as he slipped an arm around my waist again. I was worried enough about him not to be so light-headed at his body flush against mine. And if hanging on me like this would help get him home quicker, he could rub up against me wherever and however he wanted.

I'd register all the inappropriate sensations ping-ponging through me later.

"We'll figure out a way to get your car tomorrow morning. It's early enough that you can sleep this all off before tomorrow," I told him as we trudged to my car. "You'll most likely feel like shit, but you'll be awake."

"Oh, Legs. You always worried about me too much."

"I'm freaked out about what would have happened if I hadn't been here tonight and seen you, but that's a conversation I need to have with sober Jesse," I said, propping him up against the side of my car to get the passenger door open. "Right now, I need to get this one into bed."

"I've been dreaming about being in bed with you for most of my life. That sounds great to me," he whispered, his lips soft and wet as his words fanned hot against my neck. He was drunk and clueless about what was falling out of his mouth, but the heat in his eyes had a raw honesty to it.

One I couldn't entertain tonight and, after getting a glimpse of how he was really suffering, maybe never.

I thanked God when he managed to climb in without my help.

"Tell me your address," I told him as I cued up the GPS on my screen.

"I could just tell you how to get there, Em. I'm not that drunk that I don't know where I live."

"But in case you pass out on the way there, I need your address. Pretty please with sugar." I forced a tight smile and narrowed my eyes.

He leaned forward and entered his address with slow stabs of his finger.

"There," he said, peeling my hand off the steering wheel and bringing it to his lips. "Since you asked so damn nicely."

My eyes sank shut, the wet warmth of his mouth and the scratch of his stubble getting to me in ways they shouldn't have tonight. The urge to kiss away all his troubles and make it better shouldn't have been so overwhelming, another reason why I needed to get him home as soon as possible.

I slipped my hand away and pulled out of the parking lot, hoping the GPS was right and Jesse's condo was only twenty minutes away, and praying he would make it that long.

I kept my eye on him in my periphery as his head swung back and forth over the headrest.

"Seriously, though," I said, tapping his leg to make sure he didn't nod off when he became quiet. "What would you have done if I hadn't been there?"

"I wouldn't have driven anywhere, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know that. But you were alone. That's dangerous."

"I guess if I was still awake, I could've kept trying Caden." He laughed to himself. "Ah, see, I told you I wasn't parent material. I fuck up all the time."

"Jesse," I started, more relief flooding through me as the GPS told me the destination was only a mile away. "This has nothing to do with that."

"Yes, yes, it does. I shouldn't be a parent. I should be an uncle. But I'm not an uncle. I'm a father because my sister is dead."

His words were laced with so much anguish and anger, I wondered if he'd ever had the chance to feel his sister's loss, or if he'd even allowed himself to.

I pulled into a spot in front of his condo and shut off the engine. He seemed slightly more alert as he blinked his eyes open. When he reached for the door handle, he managed to unlock it, but I feared he'd face-plant right into the grass when he tried to step out.

"Stay there," I told him, curling my hand around his bicep to pull him back. "I'll help you."

I raced over to his side and pulled his door the rest of the way open. He managed to push off the seat and stand on his own, but I had the bad feeling he was either going to be unconscious or sick very soon.

"Give me your keys," I said, crooking my finger at him.

"I can open my door, Emily," he growled, stumbling when he glanced back at me.

"I'm sure you usually could. Don't make me go into your pocket and get them, Evans."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" He arched a tipsy brow at me. "A beautiful woman putting her hand down my pants?" He snickered as he stepped in front of me, holding up his arms. "Go get them, gorgeous."

His eyes narrowed to slits, simmering with lust and want and so many things I couldn't give in to. Not like this.

Judging by his behavior and words tonight, the booze had loosened up all the feelings Jesse held back. Even if he meant what he was saying, he wouldn't be so open and brazen about it once his brain cleared.

I slipped a hand inside his pants pocket, feeling for his keys while trying not to feel for anything else. I blew out a relieved breath when my finger slid along a hard metal groove. I managed to slip them out of his pocket quickly while I kept my eyes on his door, not his face.

I didn't want to waste precious time arguing, but so much of this felt wrong, both the way he wanted me to touch him and listening to what he wouldn't have wanted me to hear.

I'd take care of him and make sure he was safe. He'd be mortified he'd put me in this position tomorrow—if he remembered it. The key opened both locks, and I eased the door open, pushing Jesse in front of me to get him inside first, and locked the door behind me.

"Okay, while you're more or less awake," I said, throwing the keys on his side table, "let's get you changed and into bed."

"I like this take-charge Emily." He came toward me, exaggerating each small step, and wove his hand into my hair. "I'll be your good boy tonight." A crooked smile curved his lips.

"Jesse, stop," I sighed, cringing when I spotted steps behind him. "I'm guessing your bedroom is upstairs. Can you make it, or do you want to lie on the couch while I get your clothes?"

"I can make it. I don't want to mess up the new couch," he said, pulling me toward the living room. "I bought that couch for my niece because she likes purple," he said, both of us wobbling as he took me over to the couch and plopped down on one of the cushions. "This is her favorite cushion. I bought her a desk, but she likes to do her homework here if I sit there." His whole body swayed as he pointed his finger toward the other end of the couch. "She loves me."

"Of course she loves you. You take good care of her." I cupped his chin and gently shifted his face until his gaze slid to mine. "It's a great couch. Are you sure you don't want to stay here?"

"No. I need to sleep it off." He pressed his hands to the cushion and stood, swaying again but not enough to lose his footing. Maybe he was sobering up a little? His eyes were still glossy and vacant but seemed a touch more alert when they met mine. "You can go now if you want."

"It's fine. I said I wouldn't go until you were settled in bed." I slid my arm through the crook of his elbow and led him to the staircase. "I'll move toward the wall so you can hold on to the banister, but go slow, okay?"

He nodded as we took each step one at a time at a cautious pace until we made it to the second floor. I stepped in front of Jesse when we were far enough away from the steps not to fear him falling back, and I pulled him by the hand toward his bedroom. I peeked into Maddie's room, purple-themed down to the curtains, bedspread, and desk chair.

He'd really done all he could to make this a home for her, even if it may've broken his heart to do it.

I gave him a gentle push toward the bed, his hazy gaze now focused on the carpet after he dropped onto the edge. I rummaged through his drawers and found a T-shirt and boxers, looking over my shoulder as I tossed them onto the bed.

"Change. I'll get you a glass of water and some ibuprofen before you doze off…"

Something caught my eye as I pushed his drawer closed. It was the edge of a newspaper clipping along the back panel, faded enough at the edges not to be anything current.

When I looked closer, I recognized the St. Kate's masthead at the top of the article. The school sent newsletters by mail to solicit donations, and Sabrina and I would get a kick out of the updates we'd find on classmates and students who'd attended St. Kate's with us but in other grades.

My heart seized when I saw a grayed-out photo of me. They'd made us take pictures for the college website and social media page when I'd started college. We were told to hold a soccer ball and glare at the camera like "We are about to kick some ass." I guessed St. Kate's had lifted it from there to publish, and my mother and I had missed this issue.

How long had he had this? He'd only just moved in to this condo a few months ago. Did he always keep it in his dresser drawer? I hadn't asked, but there had to have been women in his life over the years.

He'd been flirty to the edge of inappropriate since I'd found him, but he wasn't the first man I knew to get handsy when he was drunk. The liquor and unresolved grief had made him act like this, but keeping this photo meant something different. Something a lot more.

I was about to press it back where I'd found it before Jesse noticed I was lingering by his dresser, but he was free and easy with the truth tonight. Instead of staying up all night deciphering what this could mean, why not just ask?

"Didn't look me up, huh? What's this?—"

Jesse stood, his boxers pulled up to his waist with the band twisted, and no shirt on. My eyes roamed his body, the smattering of chest hair now darker across his chest and the smooth grooves of muscle. I pinched the photo in between my fingers, almost tearing it as I couldn't stop staring.

"My mother had that. They used to send that stupid newsletter to their house, and she cut out the picture and saved it. She gave it to me to show Maddie."

"But you kept it?" I asked as I examined his face.

"I did. I wanted to show Maddie. Maybe I will. But you still looked like my girl in that picture. I didn't want to share it yet." He yawned, falling back onto the bed with a squeaky bounce.

My eyes stung as I slipped into his bathroom, filling up a cup with water and grabbing the ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet.

Everything I'd learned about Jesse tonight wasn't for me to know, but I couldn't forget it. He might not have kept it for twenty years, but it was precious enough to him not to share.

I had a lot to figure out, but I needed to make sure Jesse was in bed and out cold before I headed home for what was probably going to be a long, sleepless night.

"Take this, and I'll go?—"

I froze at his doorway, the plastic cup crinkling in my hand as Jesse's gaze met mine, his eyes still half closed as he sprawled out on his bed, drifting his hand back and forth over the bulge in his shorts with a sleepy smile.

"Come help me, Em. Touch me."

Jesus Christ.

"Take this," I clipped, crooking my finger for him to sit up. I handed him the cup and held out my hand for him to take the ibuprofen from my palm. "Take this and lie down."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, low and husky, as he shoved the pills into his mouth and tipped back the cup.

"Was I a good boy?" He jutted his lip in a pout.

"Yes. Now go to sleep."

I turned to throw the cup into the trash can next to his nightstand when he grabbed my wrist and yanked me onto the bed.

"Touch me. I need you."

I shook my head. "No, Jesse. You're drunk. I won't touch you when you're drunk."

"But you'll touch me when I'm not?" he asked, raising a brow as he propped his elbow onto his pillow. "What if I said please? Pretty please with sugar." He brushed his lips against my cheek, painting a trail of tiny kisses to my ear.

"Jesse, stop it." I sat up, shoving him back. "You're not thinking clearly. I know you're hurting, but?—"

"I've only let myself do this once. I mean, once while thinking about you." He shut his eyes and laughed to himself. "I wouldn't do it that summer, even though I missed you so fucking much I couldn't see straight. If I came thinking of you, I'd never get you out of my head. Not that I ever really did," he said, brushing the hair off my forehead. "You were always in there somewhere."

"When did you?" I asked, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I'd gotten him home, and now, that was where I needed to go. Away from him and this ache in my heart and between my legs that had no cure.

I had no time for questions I couldn't handle the answers to.

"That night after the reunion. I was so happy you didn't hate me anymore. And you looked so damn beautiful." He cupped my cheek, setting my skin on fire from the skid of his thumb along my jaw. "I was a sloppy kid back then. Lost in how good it was to be inside you and how sweet you tasted. Now, if I had the chance, I could give you what you need. I'd make it so good, Em."

"Jesse, please stop," I said, forcing air out of my lungs to form words. The ache at my core was a full-on throb, all my blood flow now in my clit with nowhere to go. "You don't mean what you're saying."

"The fuck I don't." His jaw clenched as he hovered over me. "I mean everything."

I shimmied out of his hold to push him back on the mattress. "I'll go home and forget about all of this, just like you will when you wake up. But I mean it about never drinking alone like that again. Do you have an extra key so I can lock up?"

"If you can't touch me, kiss me. I swear I want you to. Please, baby."

My chest squeezed at the crack in his voice. He was hurting, and all I'd wanted to do tonight was make him feel better. But kissing him wouldn't only be for his benefit. I needed him too. More than I'd wanted to acknowledge and now couldn't deny.

I let my fingers curl into his hair, and I scraped my nails along his scalp. He moaned, guttural enough for the vibration to run right through me. I inched toward him, easing my lips onto his until they barely touched. I backed away, hoping it would appease him enough to lie back down and pass out.

He shook his head and looped his arm around my waist, drawing me closer until we were almost chest to chest. He brought his lips back to mine, slanting his head before dragging his tongue along the seam of my lips. My mouth opened on a gasp before I let him in, my hands back in his hair as the kiss caught fire, our teeth scraping as our tongues tangled, both of us licking into each other's mouths in long sweeps, chasing a twenty-year thirst we'd managed to push aside until it consumed us.

He rolled me on top of him, gliding his hands up and down my back as his erection pressed against my core. I repeated one more minute over and over in my head, but I couldn't make myself stop. I skimmed my hands down his arms and over his strong shoulders, bringing them to the back of his neck as I pulled him closer, deepening the kiss I should never have let happen at all, never mind let go this far.

"Okay," I murmured against Jesse's lips as I finally tore my lips away. "I need to go, and you need to sleep."

His head sank into the pillow as his breathing slowed. It was as if our crazy kiss had pacified him enough to grasp on to some peace, if only for the moment. I kissed his forehead as his eyes fluttered.

"No," he breathed out, clutching my wrist with his eyes still half shut. "Stay with me. Please," he said, settling on his side and pulling my back to his front.

I let my head fall back into the pillow and groaned. I gently squirmed out of his hold enough to slip away, when I noticed the purple cushion on the chair next to his bed. The entire house had notes of purple, all, I was sure, courtesy of Maddie.

I plopped my head back down as Jesse brought me closer, his breathing soft and even against my neck.

Whether he knew what he was saying or not, I couldn't leave any more than I could stop kissing him, even if it would further complicate things between us. It didn't matter if he probably wouldn't remember asking me to stay or the mind-blowing kiss we'd shared that felt as soul-searing as it was wrong. I let myself drift off, feeling some of the solace that had finally put Jesse out, and savored the stolen moment before I'd have to give it back.