3. Gianna

He'd made my bed? I didn't know what to do with that. No one had ever done that stuff for me. Not since my mom had died. Maybe Pop did at first, but I couldn't say I remembered that time well. Tension knotted my shoulders as I twirled a single curl around my finger and surveyed the pink flowers on the bedding. Each time I visited my brother, I used my own sheets and quilt. I'd brought an extra set from home the first time I visited and had left them here so I didn't have to bring them back and forth. He always let me have the bed, and I couldn't stomach thoughts of what might have happened on the sheets, even if he'd washed them. Chris was the bigger germophobe of the family, but I hadn't escaped the neurosis completely.

I had my own things, and bedding was one of them. Rationally, I understood that the staph infection my mom caught after coming back from a tropical vacation with Pop wasn't likely from the sheets and towels at their hotel, but ten-year-old me was convinced the infection that caused her to become septic came from sleeping in strangers' germs. And I still struggled with the idea of germy sheets.

Jake had always mocked me for packing my own sheets and towels when I traveled. Clearly he, along with most people, didn't understand the sheer amount of rank strangers' excretions that were forever on hotel room sheets.

I fought a shudder at the thought.

"Let me know if you need anything."

I spun in time to see Emerson clip his shoulder on the doorframe as he hurried out of the room. The guy chuckled at the clumsy move but didn't slow or turn back.

My brother's best friend was…different.When I met him a few years ago, I was confused. The man had the uncontainable energy of Winnie the Pooh's Tigger and the dopey happiness of my least favorite Friends character. He was so freaking irritating, with his constant chatter and exuberance for life. To this day, I couldn't wrap my head around how my grump of a brother had bonded with Mr. Happy Pants.

Whatever. This was temporary. Before long, I'd move on to my new place.

Chris had told me to adjust his stuff any way I wanted, so I headed for the dresser, skipping the top drawer, because that was typically the drawer people kept personal shit in. I had zero interest in discovering items that would make me want to burn my eyes out.

Drawers three and four seemed safest.

I yanked the third one open, finding two pairs of sweats. The drawer below it was half filled with athletic shorts. Quickly, I made a stack and shelved them in his almost-empty closet.

Clearly my brother didn't spend much time here anymore. Not that I was surprised. It had been obvious to all of us long before Chris copped to it that Avery was destined to be his better half. Now that they were done hiding behind this best friend bullshit and he was with her, it didn't shock me that he was all-in. Chris was a forever-type person. It was only a matter of time before he popped the question.

My brother was picky about who he let into his circle, but once he welcomed a person, that was it.

And besides Avery, Emerson Knight was also solidly in Chris's circle of forever, even if I didn't understand why. Though I guessed I didn't need to understand. If my brother trusted him, that meant Emerson was good people.

I peered over my shoulder toward the center of the room.

And he'd made my bed…

Not to mention he hadn't made a single snide comment about my quirk.

Shaking my head, I turned back to the task at hand, ignoring the weird flutter in my chest at the thought. As I organized, Avery texted that she and Chris were bringing Pop by for dinner. I hadn't seen him in a few weeks, but according to Chris, he was getting stronger every day.

I finished unpacking before I pulled out my phone to check in with my friends. Once my family descended, I'd be too busy trying to figure out dinner. Knowing Chris, he'd show up and expect food to magically appear.

Me: Made it - all settled.

My phone instantly buzzed with a FaceTime request.

Struggling to decide whether I wanted to roll my eyes or sigh, I clicked Accept and was greeted by spikes of platinum hair and a pair of bright blue eyes.

"Where is he? And is he shirtless?" Linc craned his neck like he was trying to look around me. "I've heard his thing is, like, nakedness." His brows were in his hairline as he blinked at me in anticipation. "Don't be stingy with the views, Gi."

"How many times have I been here before? You know I've never seen him without clothes, so don't believe everything you read." I huffed.

According to Linc, gossip on all the socials was that Emerson liked hanging out in his birthday suit while he was at home. But I couldn't imagine my brother would put up with that shit. Sounded to me like the wishful thinking of millions of people. And I guess, in a way, I could understand it. Not that I felt the same way. But his goofiness aside, it was impossible not to notice that the man was sexy as sin. Even I'd had trouble looking away from the corded forearm muscles as he moved my bags.

The image on the screen went blurry, and then Mila appeared on the video chat.

"Bored of Boston?" Her tone was hopeful, like she'd be thrilled if I said I was ready to move back to New York already. It must be nice to live in that kind of fairy tale land.

"Linc is just hoping for man chest," I explained.

"Trying to make Eli jealous?" She cocked her head, half of it disappearing from the screen, and worried her bottom lip. Probably concerned he'd hurt his boyfriend's feelings.

We were an odd group, the three of us. I'd met Linc at cosmology school over ten years ago. These days, he was a highly sought–after stylist at the biggest Moxie Salon in New York, and I'd never be able to repay him for the wonders he worked on my hair.

Though he'd clearly flourished in his career, it turned out that I hated peopling too much to stay in the business of cutting hair. So, six years ago, I'd gone back and taken art and design classes. That was when I met Mila. Soft-spoken and careful with her words, with her French braid, baggy clothes, and dreams of being an elementary school art teacher, she was the antithesis of me. Linc met Mila, cut her long, drab hair into a cute little bob, and dragged her out into the world of the New York bar scene. And since then, we'd been together.

"Oh, Eli is fine with me being a creepy stalker." He rolled his blue eyes. "Babe!" he yelled. "Care if I check out some professional baseball guy's chest without his knowledge or permission?"

In the background, Eli responded, but his words were impossible to make out.

Linc turned back to us, his eyes twinkling below the silver loop through one brow. "He said whatever."

"Be nice to him." Mila shook her head. "I miss you already, Gi. You should come back."

I'd stayed with Mila for a few days after my father's house sold, but then I'd finally bitten the bullet and called my brother. I wasn't thrilled to have to mooch off Chris, but an apartment in the city was impossible to find on such short notice. I had some work to do for the Boston Zoo anyway, so the temporary move four hours north wasn't really a big deal.

"I'm hoping to find a place near you before July." But August was more likely. Jake still hadn't reimbursed me, though he swore he'd have it soon. With him, that meant it could be tomorrow or next month. "Plus, I'm glad to be away from Jake for a while."

"What did the tool bag do now?" Linc smirked. "His standing hair appointment is next week. Wouldn't it be funny if I had an off day?"

My stomach sank. "Don't get yourself in trouble. He's not worth it."

"Debatable." Linc tossed his head back and let out the most terrifyingly evil laugh. The I intend to mess with you so good meaning behind it sent shivers down my spine.

"Seriously, what did he do?" Mila asked this time.

I lowered my focus, unable to look at them, and shook my head. Libby flaunting her engagement ring, then her friend's comment about my size. I tipped my chin up, determined to cling to the anger coursing through me and not let anything else in. "Nothing out of the norm. He sent me to get the group's coffee order, and while I was gone, he handed out housewarming invites." I sighed, still beyond annoyed that he was living in the apartment I'd found and paid for. "Plus, he took me off the denim company project. That one I was really excited about. Apparently they don't like my vision."

Linc snorted. "Definitely gonna be half-blind next Wednesday."

I didn't want to chuckle, but it was hard not to. Messing with Mr. Perfect's hair would be funny. Even so, Jake would be livid, and then he'd try to get Linc fired.

"No need. I'm busy working on the zoo project for the next couple of weeks, so I'm free of his harassment. And I'm sending my résumé to every graphic design firm in New York. A new job is at the top of the list, right after new apartment," I muttered. New job, new place to live, new relationship status, all at the same time. Ironic for a woman who didn't like change.

"If my lease was up anytime soon, I'd move in with you," Mila assured me. It wasn't the first time she'd said it, but her lease wasn't up for renewal until October, and there was no way I'd live in my brother's apartment for that long.

"I know." I gave her a smile. "But I'm going to be thirty in a few weeks. It's time I adult and get my own place." And I'd been looking forward to having a place to make my own.

After realizing I didn't want to cut hair, I'd moved back in with Pop so I could work part time while getting my degree. It had made sense. Then, when I was hired at Doucette Designs after graduation, I stayed so I could double down on my efforts to pay off my college loans. And in the end, it was the best decision. Because now I was debt free.

The house I'd grown up in, that my mother, with her artistic hand, had decorated, was always more of a way to remember her, to be surrounded by her. It was why it took Pop and me so long to let it go. But now that he'd sold it, I could live in a place that felt like me. Jake the jerk wasn't part of the plan anymore, but that didn't mean I couldn't create a home for myself.

"So." Linc waggled his brows. "Can we get a tour of the temporary place?"

"No."

"Come on," he moaned, tipping his face up to the ceiling. "I want an up-close and personal view of the hottie you get to call a roommate."

I was not harassing the guy. It was bad enough I was encroaching on his space. I refused to be an annoying fan girl like that. Chris hadn't paused to ask Emerson if it was okay before he agreed to let me stay me. And when I mentioned that his roommate might not love it, Chris assured me that Emerson was pretty much never home, so it wouldn't be a thing.

"We are not harassing anyone today."

Linc cupped a hand around his mouth. "booo," he chanted.

I rolled my eyes. "Goodbye." With that, I ended the call and headed out of Chris's bedroom to figure out dinner.

As I stepped out into the hall, Emerson's voice flooded my ears. If I didn't know he was such a goofball, I might find the deep, rumbling tone attractive. Halfway down the hall, the smell hit my nose, making my mouth water. Garlic and cream.

I peeked into the kitchen, finding Emerson standing at the counter. He was tall and broad and far too happy-looking. The spoon in his hand was so at odds with the bat or mitt I was used to seeing him with. Even so, he looked just as comfortable in the kitchen as he did standing by third base.

As I stood at the door, his mouth moved, words that I couldn't catch passing quickly through his lips.

It wouldn't shock me if he was talking to himself. It seemed on par.

That thought left me as I got another whiff of the delicious aroma wafting around me. The smell screamed alfredo, which was one of my faves.

When I came back to my senses, he was still talking. That's when it hit me. I wasn't catching the words because he was speaking in Spanish. He'd grown up in Puerto Rico, so it made sense. Quietly, so as not to interrupt him, I slipped over to the fridge to grab a water.

"Come say hi," Emerson said in English, his green eyes focused on me. "Otherwise they'll accuse me of sneaking a girl around my apartment, and my mother will give me a lecture about not stealing free eggs." With that, he shifted his attention back to the counter and his phone, that I now realized was balanced against a bottle of olive oil. "This is Chris's sister, Gianna."

With one long arm, he pulled me close. His fingers skimmed the strip of bare skin between my sweater and leggings before he grasped my hip, holding me in place. The warmth of his palm heated my skin, even through my thin black pants.

I tensed at first, unused to physical contact. But I forced myself to relax as he pulled me closer so that I appeared on-screen beside him. A different spice hit my nose as his solid body pressed lightly against my own, causing my stomach to flip.

I swallowed hard and willed my body to remain relaxed. I'd never been this close to him. And I wasn't sure I liked it. My last two boyfriends hadn't been super touchy outside of sex, and after so long, apparently, my body didn't know how to react to a normal touch.

"Hi!" came a chorus of female voices. And I was met with smiling faces and bright, happy eyes that matched Emerson's. A mix of browns and greens.

"These are my sisters, Isabella, and Yevette, and my mom." As he introduced them, he tilted his head just enough that his breath skated along my cheek.

I cleared my throat and tried not to inhale his intoxicating scent. "Uh. Hi?"

"Wow, I totally didn't expect you," one of his sisters said. She looked younger than the other. Maybe seventeen.

"How do you make your hair do that?" This from the other sister, who couldn't have been much more than eighteen herself.

"You have really long lashes," the first said.

My stomach knotted a little tighter with each comment. I wasn't sure whether they were dishing out compliments or criticisms. Teenagers were hard to read. Before I could decipher their intentions, a male appeared, hovering behind the three women, standing a head taller than them. He narrowed his eyes, then he snickered and said something I didn't understand.

Emerson's mom whacked the guy in the chest, and in response, he barked out a laugh and shook his head.

"Enough." Emerson chuckled easily. "Chris and Avery are going to be here soon, so I'm hanging up. Love you all."

As the crowd on the other side of the screen shouted Spanish phrases, he ended the call, and the room went quiet.

"My brother Andre was the guy who showed up at the end. I love them all, literally couldn't pick a favorite, but they are a lot." With a shrug, he dropped his arm from my waist.

At the loss of his touch, my skin cooled, and a shiver coursed through me. It was almost like I missed it.

Get a grip Gianna. People were always weird around my brother now that he played professional baseball. There was no way I'd act like that with Emerson.

With a shake of my head, I wandered over to the stove and peeked into the saucepan. "Are you making dinner?"

Nerves skittered through me. What was I supposed to do if I didn't have to make dinner?

He chuckled again. "Somebody should, and we can be sure your brother won't."

Of course Chris wouldn't cook. The man couldn't even scramble eggs.

I snorted, and a wisp of my asymmetrical bangs floated into my eyes. Without a pause, Emerson brushed them back, his fingertips gently skimming along my temple.

Our eyes met and locked, and a strange warmth spread through me. From this close, I could make out a small fleck in his right iris. He froze in place, his teeth pressing into his lower lip as his hand hovered just above my shoulder.

The air in the kitchen electrified, and his lips parted like he might say something, but before he could, the door opened, and we jumped apart.

"Bambi?" my brother called, stepping into the room.

Emerson spun toward the stovetop, blinking and swallowing audibly. Completely ignoring Chris, he cracked the knuckles on one hand, then the other. Odd. He almost seemed nervous. Or was he uncomfortable?

Chris gave me a chin tilt, which was the warmest kind of welcome anyone but his girlfriend could expect. "Oh, hey, Gi. Didn't realize you were here already."

"I told you she texted when she got here," Avery called from the entryway, where she was holding the door as Pop came in.

Chris met my eye, silently telling me not to offer my help. My father was stubborn, and any help we offered would be met with a brush-off. Avery was one of the few he let do anything for him.

I tried not to frown at the slowness of my father's movements. He was without his walker, which showed that he was getting stronger, but it hurt to see him this way. He'd lost so much weight in the last few months. All his life, he'd been solid, but now his polo hung loosely off his frame. And he'd aged. Like instead of the damn, he can't be sixty, it was more like damn, he's sixty.

I took a deep breath and moved hesitantly toward him. "Pop."

"I will not break in half, girlie." Even though the tone had a bit of reproach to it, my dad smiled at me. It was virtually impossible to knock the positivity out of him.

I leaned in, attempting to give him a hug, but all I got in return was a shoulder squeeze. Sadness wormed its way into my brain, despite my best efforts. He smelled like home and the comforting scent of Old Spice. Missing was the hint of cigarettes that used to float around him, but that was a positive. I needed Pop around for a while more. I didn't feel like I was ready to be without his support, so I was thankful he'd quit that shit and was taking care of himself.

"Smells amazing, as always, Em," Avery said from behind us. "How can I help?"

Emerson angled close and brushed his lips over her cheek in greeting. Shockingly, my overprotective brother didn't even react. Chris just grabbed a beer out of the fridge as Emerson gave instructions and Avery moved to drain the pasta.

A flash of jealousy hit me. But I wasn't sure whether it was because Avery and Emerson fit in the dynamic of my family in this setting better than I did or because of how close the two of them were. Maybe it had more to do with the happiness that floated around the room so thickly it was suffocating.

"I thought we'd gotten past your dislike of Avery," my father mumbled beside me.

Heart lurching, I spun to him and opened my mouth, but I quickly shut it again. I'd never disliked her. She was just tiny and perky and full of sunshine. And as someone who was none of those things, my insecurities ran rampant around her. Pissed was easier than vulnerable, so that had always been my default setting. But I had tried to swallow that back.

"Avery's great," I said. She clearly loved my brother and was there for him no matter what. That was all I could hope for him. She didn't give a shit that he was a famous baseball player or how much money he made. She just adored Chris for who he was. That honest devotion was hard to find.

"Then don't scowl at my girl, Gi." Chris smirked. Which was weird. I wasn't used to my brother being happy. Frowning, glaring—that was his norm. But the smile he shot me as he opened his beer was out of place. So was the way he took a sip and then passed the bottle over to Avery like he hadn't spent decades being adamant about not sharing food and drinks. "You don't need to spread cranky all over just because you broke up with Jake."

I glared. I wasn't cranky about Jake.

"Chris," my father chastised.

At the same time, Emerson dropped the knife he was using to dice the chicken, sending it clattering to the floor.

"Shit," he muttered, crouching and swiping it off the tile.

"You okay?" Avery asked.

"You know me." He chuckled, the sound forced rather than easygoing like it usually was. When he moved to the sink, his green eyes met mine with an intensity I'd never seen from him before.

"I saw some of the partial designs for the new exhibits," Avery chirped, breaking the weirdness that had settled over the room. "They're perfection. The way you tied in the animals and the sponsors is incredible. Even unfinished, I'm blown over," she gushed as she plated the pasta.

"See?" My brother frowned at me as he grabbed two plates and moved to the table. "I keep telling you that you're good at that. I know shit, and I'm not biased."

With a nod of agreement, Avery picked up the beer and another plate and followed him.

Since Mom died, Chris and Pop seemed to double their effort to be supportive of my creative side. She and I had shared the passion. My brother and my father were the sports guys. Art was our thing. It wasn't so much unbiased support. It was more that after she died, they always tried to fill the void she left behind.

"I can't wait to see them," my father added, slowly shuffling over to the table with a bottle of water.

"Same." Emerson's deep voice rumbled through my body as he followed me into the dining room.

Before I could answer, Chris said, "Oh, Bambi, I Venmoed the grocery money for the week."

With a look at Emerson, who stood in the doorway carrying two plates, I frowned and turned to my brother. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?" His dark brows pulled together. "That's how we do food."

"But you don't live here…"

He scoffed. "I'll be around, and plus, I'm covering yours."

Irritation made my blood heat. That's exactly what I thought. "No." I hated his steamrolling.

"You moved here to save money, so I got the food. Don't be annoying." Chris snapped the napkin onto his lap and turned his attention back to Avery, who was settling next to him.

Emerson cleared his throat.

I whirled on him, fisting my hands on my hips. "I'm not letting him pay for everything."

His eyes softened, the green turning a mossy hue, and he nodded. "I get it. Chris steps in and takes care of people without thinking about how it might make them feel."

That was exactly it. But I didn't want to burden my brother when he was already letting me stay here.

Emerson dropped his voice lower. "But he doesn't live here, so you and I will work it out. Venmo goes both ways." With a smile, he passed me one of the plates he was holding. "Now enjoy dinner, because I'm almost as good a cook as I am good-looking."

I scoffed, fighting back the smile wanting to work its way across my lips.

Angling in, he gave me a once-over. "The grin is cute, but I prefer the full smile. That, Mariposa, is showstopping." With a smirk, he left me standing there in shock.

Did my brother's best friend just flirt with me?