From twelve-year-old Kinsey’s summer camp journal:
Dear Journal,
Ugh. Sometimes I wonder if you hate our times together as much as I do. I’ve got a fever, so I’m stuck in the nurse’s cabin and not allowed to be near any of the others in case I’m contagious. The counselor said she called my mom to come get me. Good luck, lady. She’s with her latest dumbass at some music festival. No way she’s going to give that up.
Eli snuck in last night after dark. He’s got every girl here stupid over him, but I decided to forgive him for that because he had forbidden snacks with him.
Hate you,
Kinsey
“BREATHE, KINSEY.”
She did, but not because Deck was telling her to. She breathed because she needed air to tell him exactly what she thought of him right then. “You suck.”
“That’s it,” he said in his low, gravelly voice, the one she found so sexy. He stroked a big, callused hand up and down her arm. “Only one more poke.”
“I hate this,” she gritted out.
“I know.”
“And right now I hate you.”
“I know that too.”
She sighed and kept her eyes squeezed shut while Deck hooked her up for dialysis.
“Find a good memory to replay,” he said.
That was his trick, teaching her to pretend she was somewhere else.
“Remember the bluffs,” he said.
A few weeks ago, he’d driven her to the beach. Most people parked there and went to the sand. But there were walking trails all over the hills, one leading straight to the top.
Kinsey got winded too quickly to use the trails, and for what had seemed like forever now, she’d felt like she had the flu. Tired. Nauseous. Off.
There was no way she could get to the top under her own steam. So Deck had four-wheeled her up in his off-road vehicle. Without saying a word or making her feel incapable, he’d carefully buckled her in, checked her helmet, made sure her face mask was in place to keep out dust.
And then he’d given her a hell of a ride. But not the ride of her life. That had come later that night when they’d been in his bed.
She grinned at the memory. Deck had always made a point of spending their time doing things that thrilled her. It was glorious.
He was glorious.
But he wasn’t hers. Not to keep anyway.
“Done,” Deck said calmly. “You can open your eyes now.”
Little-known fact: She had a needle phobia, which made dialysis a form of torture. She had a fistula implanted just beneath the skin on the inside of her left biceps, which made things a lot easier, but it still required two needle pokes each time, one for incoming blood, one for outgoing.
She wasn’t a fan.
She was currently sitting on her usual corner cot of the dialysis clinic, which was attached to the small but efficient Wildstone hospital. She was grateful for both the clinic and the staff, as without them, she’d have to drive a hundred miles each way to the next-closest dialysis center.
So maybe she didn’t hate the procedure as much as she wished things were different. A wish she’d been wishing for fourteen years.
Friends was playing on the small screen hanging on the wall. Season five, the episode where drunk Rachel and drunk Ross accidentally get drunk married in Vegas.
Deck had put it on. He wasn’t a fan of sitcoms, much less ones from the ’90s, but knew she loved them, so he always had something good playing for her.
“Okay?” he murmured, squeezing her hand, his dark eyes on hers.
“Yeah.” She managed a smile. “Thanks. I don’t really hate you.”
“Oh, I know.”
She blushed. Like actually blushed. To hide that, she rolled her eyes. She was the only patient in the clinic today, which she liked. It gave her some alone time, which she needed. It also meant that she had one hundred percent of Deck’s attention, which she also liked. He was the first and only person in her life who could make her feel like she was an amazing person. Yes, she had Max and Eli, and they’d do anything for her, she knew this, but they also had each other.
She had no one. But being with Deck made her feel far less . . . alone. She squeezed his fingers.
With a grin, he leaned over her and brushed his sexy mouth to her temple. The feel of his thick stubble gave her a cheap thrill.
“You haven’t even asked me what today’s reward for being a good girl is,” he rumbled into her ear.
“It better be a chocolate bar.”
“Aim higher.”
“An entire case of chocolate bars.”
Deck shook his head. “Higher.”
She met those dark, heated eyes, doing her best to ignore the feeling that the dialysis machine was slowly taking over her body. That wasn’t what was really happening, of course, but the sensation remained. “Is this a present for me, or you?”
He grinned. “Getting closer.” He leaned in again and nipped her earlobe. “You get to go first.” He kissed the spot he’d just bitten. “And last.”
She smiled, because they both knew she always got hers first and last—he made sure of it.
“You’ve been scarce this week,” he said.
“Well, not totally scarce . . .”
They both smiled now, remembering the other night before the midnight pancakes.
“Want to have a late lunch with me?” she asked. “I’ve got half an hour between afternoon meetings.”
“Wanna have you for lunch.”
Her good parts quivered. “It’d have to be . . . fast food.”
His smile was slow and dirty. “I do some of my best work under pressure.”
As she well knew.
He crouched at her side, checking the lines and the machine. “So . . . tell me what you’re not telling me.”
She stared at him. “How do you always know?”
He shrugged. “Just do.”
She could fool everyone but him. Which was annoying, but also . . . a secret thrill. “Just busy with work.”
“Why are you lying to me? That’s against the rules.”
Yes, they had rules. Hers being simple. They were friends with benefits minus the friends part, because he wasn’t allowed to fall in love with her. He was just the good-time guy.
His rules weren’t nearly as simple. She wasn’t to hide from him, not how she felt, or what was happening with her health, nothing. And then there was the doozy—she wasn’t to lie to him. Ever. “I’m not lying,” she said.
“You’re omitting then. Something’s wrong, something’s bugging you. Is it your new roommate? Is it because you two used to go to the same summer camp?”
She drew a deep breath. “No. But Brynn’s not just my old summer camp cabin mate and new roommate. She’s also . . . my half sister.”
Deck raised a pierced brow.
“Yeah,” she said. “Shock, right?”
“I thought you were an only child. It was just you and your mom, and the myriad of assholes she brought into your life, the ones you won’t give me their names so I can go beat the shit out of them for what they did to you.”
“Okay, first, only one of them ever bothered with me, and it’s not like he laid a hand on me. He was just mean with his words. Big deal.”
“Not all wounds are physical, Kins.”
She closed her eyes. He was right. Way too right. But she didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it. “Brynn’s not my mom’s daughter. She’s my father’s.”
“The con artist guy who lived with you and your mom on and off until she found out he’d been cheating on her?”
“That’s the one.”
He took this in for a stunned beat. “How long have you known?”
She squirmed. “Since I was fifteen and went looking for my dad’s relatives.”
He absorbed that and shook his head. “How long has Brynn known?”
“She doesn’t.”
He arched a brow. “Are you serious right now? You never told her.”
“No.”
“How is that fair to her?” he asked quietly.
“Obviously, it’s not.”
“Kins.”
She met his dark eyes, filled with things that hurt. But also hope, for her.
“You’ve got a half sister,” he said. “You know what that means.”
“That there’s a good shot she’s every bit as charming and gracious as I am?”
He snorted. “Don’t forgot obstinate and impossible.”
He never held back, another thing she loved. “I’m not going to tell her, Deck.”
He frowned. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t want her to think I want her kidney.”
“Not want. Need.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Kins—”
“Ever, Deck. Never ever.”
He stroked her arm in the way he did when he wanted her to calm herself, lower her blood pressure and heart rate, giving absolutely zero indication that he was disappointed in her.
But she knew he was.
Deck was a man who marched to his own beat, and though he played fast and loose with things like rules and expectations, he had a strong moral code. He was as badass as they came, and yet he was an amazing dad to his son, Toby, took care of other people for a living, and believed in the truth, always.
“You’re quiet,” she said. “Which means you’ve got things to say.”
He gave a single shake of his head. “If you don’t tell her and she finds out some other way . . .”
She winced. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then why not just put it out there? You’re too stubborn to take her kidney, so there’s no reason not to tell her.”
“I hate it when you’re more reasonable and logical than me.” She rubbed her temples. “Eli’s on me about it too. Plus, he likes her.”
“Likes her likes her?”
“I think so, yeah.”
He studied her face. “And you have a problem with that. Are you . . . jealous?”
“No.” She put her hand in his. “No,” she repeated more softly. “You know I’m not. I’ve never felt that way toward Eli, nor does he feel that way for me. Besides, I’ve got you.” She smiled. “And frankly, you’re more than I can handle on most days.”
He laughed that sexy laugh and squeezed her hand.
“I just worry about him falling for someone who isn’t necessarily sticking here. What if this is just a pit stop for her, a rebound?”
“You don’t like her,” he said.
“Actually, I think she’s fucking adorable, and adventurous, and exactly the right person to break through Eli’s walls. As well as the exact right person to break his heart. He’s had enough of that for a lifetime, Deck.”
He nodded and fell quiet for a minute, giving her hope that he’d leave it alone. She should’ve known better.
“I didn’t know my mom and dad,” he finally said.
Her heart clutched. He’d been adopted by an elderly couple who both passed away when he was a teen. A troubled teen. He’d then had a very rough, very short-lived marriage with Toby’s mom, and by some miracle he’d managed to make joint custody work. He’d not had an easy go of things ever, and she knew that was because he’d felt like he had no one who wanted to claim him as their own.
“If I found a sibling,” he went on quietly, “I’d move heaven and earth to keep them in my life.”
She sighed. “I’m going to tell her.”
“Before she runs off on you because she doesn’t know she has ties here? Come on, Kins, she deserves to know.”
“I get that. Eli’s been all over my case as well. I’m . . . working my way up to it.”
“I call bullshit on that. When you want something, you make it happen. Which means you just plain don’t want to make this happen. But for the life of me, I don’t get why.”
“Hey,” she said. “Eli’s the one who brought her home like a lost puppy. I was fine not having her in my life.”
“Now you’re actually lying right to my face.” He stood and turned to walk away. He had other things to do, she got that. They overworked everyone here because they were so understaffed. “Seriously?” she said to his back. “I thought you’d be on my side.”
“Maybe I only side with people who let me spend the night.”
Ah. Their age-old argument. She narrowed her eyes. “What about people who give you all the orgasms?”
“You know what? Don’t bring me into this. We’re just friends with benefits minus the friends part. I’m just the good-time guy for you, remember?” And when she just stared at him, he shook his head and vanished.
She was still brooding when Eli walked in a few minutes later. “See you’ve managed to piss off the un-boyfriend.”
“Don’t you start.” She let her head fall back so she could stare up at the ceiling. There was a divot in the far-left ceiling tile, and for longer than she could remember, she’d wondered how it’d gotten there. Had someone levitated? Or thrown their annoying-as-shit nurse? Or their so-called un-boyfriend, perhaps?
“It’s been days and you still haven’t talked to her,” Eli said.
She turned her head and slid him a look. “What, are you and Deck a gang now?”
Eli didn’t let her derail the conversation. “Why haven’t you told her?”
“I don’t know, Eli, why haven’t you told her that you’ve got a hard-on for her?”
“Stop,” he said quietly.
“Stop what?”
“You always try to shove people away when you’re frustrated.”
“And yet it rarely works, because here you still are,” she said wearily.
He ran a hand down her arm. “Go to sleep, Kinsey. You look exhausted.”
“You look exhausted,” she muttered, knowing she sounded like a three-year-old, but she was so tired of her life being beyond her own control that she couldn’t stop herself.
When she opened her eyes, she realized by the daylight slanting into the room that a few hours had gone by. She’d actually slept, no bad dreams about dying and floating in gray matter for the rest of eternity—she wasn’t sure what she believed about the afterlife, though she was one hundred percent certain she’d find out far before she wanted to—no waking up to a panic attack and not being able to put her finger on which of her problems had caused it. No shakiness, no urge to throw up.
“What are you smiling about?”
She realized Eli was still sitting there next to her. “I like napping,” she said. “It’s like being dead without the commitment.”
He didn’t smile. He always smiled at her commentary, so she now lost her grin. “What?”
“Tell her.”
She sighed. “You do realize that when I do, she’s going to get mad at both of us and leave, right? Then who will you moon after?”
Eli stood up and then bent low to brush a kiss to her cheek. “You’re so brave, Kinsey. Don’t run from this, one of the really great things to happen to you.” And then he was gone.
BEING WITH KINDERGARTENERS all day every day was teaching Brynn a lot. Such as the importance of tightening the lids on all the paint bottles when they put them away, so that the next day, when they shook them, they didn’t spray the entire room. Or how five-year-olds felt every emotion loudly and publicly.
And that patience was nothing more than an illusion.
Or a delusion.
She’d also learned that no matter how careful she was, by the end of the day she’d be covered in at least some of that paint and food, and a whole bunch of disturbing other things, making her a walking, talking germ vestibule.
But mostly she’d learned . . . she loved teaching little kids.
They looked at the world differently. They were marveled by everything, curious, happy . . . honest.
It was the end of her first week back in Wildstone and still early morning. She went downstairs to the kitchen to grab the breakfast and lunch she’d made herself ahead of time so she could sleep an extra ten minutes—yes, she’d finally gone grocery shopping—and found the entire gang.
They’d all shared a few dinners, and had spent a couple of evenings together, one playing a vicious game of Pictionary on the porch, which had ended with Kinsey throwing her pad of paper at Max; the other, they’d all sat on the beach watching the sunset.
Since that first night, Max had been a perfect gentleman. Kinsey had been . . . muted, but pretty much her usual sarcastic self. And Eli . . . well, if anything, the days had only ramped up the tension between the two of them. A sexual tension, one she had absolutely no idea what to do with. And since nothing had happened, she could only assume he didn’t either. Except . . . that didn’t feel right. Eli wasn’t an unsure man. He was confident, capable, and strong-willed. If he wanted her, there was a reason he was holding back.
She wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Now Max stood at the coffee maker in nothing but board shorts, pushing buttons on the machine and swearing. Kinsey was eating a piece of toast and speaking in a professional work voice into her phone, dressed to perfection as always in a suit dress and strappy heels that Brynn would die for—if she had a shoe budget. Which she did not.
Eli stood in front of the opened fridge in a suit, orange juice in one hand, a tie fisted in the other. She’d seen him in everyday clothes and she’d seen him in nothing. And now she’d seen him in a suit, so she felt uniquely qualified to say he always looked good.
He didn’t move or speak, just cut his eyes to her.
Max looked up from the coffee machine and laughed. “Dilemma, bro?”
Brynn felt confused until Kinsey, who’d finished her call, looked over. “Whenever you see him standing blankly in front of the fridge like that, he’s dealing with low blood sugar. It dulls his thought processes and slows him down. I’m pretty sure he was just about to drink right out of the OJ bottle for a quick sugar fix, but now that you’re here, he can’t. His manners have kicked in.”
“Wait,” Brynn said. “So it’s okay to drink from the container if I’m not looking?”
Kinsey snorted. “No one ever told you that you had normal roommates. With two of them being of the male species, you had to know the odds were stacked against you.”
“Yeah, we’re the not-normal ones,” Max muttered as Eli put the OJ back on the fridge shelf.
“Don’t hold yourself back on my account,” Brynn said. “I don’t drink OJ.”
He pulled the OJ off the shelf and tipped his head back for a long drink. She watched him swallow, thinking it should be illegal for a guy to look that good in everything. And nothing. “It’s going to be hard to go scuba diving in that, isn’t it?” she asked.
He grinned at her. He was the first guy to actually like her smart-ass side. “I’ve got to testify in court today on a case about a gas leak into the marina by a service station.”
“Our local expert,” Max said proudly.
“Don’t be impressed,” Eli told Brynn. “I’m just the only one in my department who owns a suit.”
Kinsey gave a rare laugh. “And don’t be impressed by that either. He can’t tie his own tie. So . . . settle a bet for us. You haven’t unpacked your duffel bag. Why?”
Brynn’s heart skipped a beat. She’d assumed no one had noticed. “It’s only been a few days.”
“A week, but yeah, exactly,” Kinsey muttered oddly to both Max and Eli. Then to Brynn, she said, “Also, where’s all your other stuff?”
Her pulse kicked into gear at the thought of her secret shame. Her palms began to sweat, but with some hard-won effort, she left her expression dialed to neutral. “How do you know I even have other things? Maybe I just live light.”
“Doubtful, since you used to come to summer camp with two huge suitcases filled to the brim.”
“Things change.” Brynn’s hands went onto her hips and she looked around. “Do we have a problem?”
“We’ve got a bet,” Kinsey said. “There’s twenty bucks on the line and I want it.”
Brynn looked at Eli.
“Not me,” he said, and eyed the others, looking pissed off. “Leave her alone.”
Max lifted his hands. “Hey, I just thought it’d be an easy twenty bucks.”
Brynn felt irritated, but she knew that was her shame at what she’d allowed to happen to her. Didn’t stop her from saying, “Maybe I have lots of stuff. Maybe I just haven’t fully decided on you guys, that’s all.”
“Aha! I win!” Max held out his hand, palm up, to Kinsey. “Pay up.”
“No way,” Kinsey said, and looked at Brynn. “And hey, we’re a delight.”
Eli laughed, and the weird tension was defused. Brynn even laughed too, but that was because Eli’s laugh was contagious.
“Look, it’s no big mystery,” she said. Such a fib. “I’ve just been busy this week. My driver’s license needed renewing, and my moms had stuff they needed me to do, and the teacher I’m subbing for didn’t leave me a lesson plan, which means I’m creating a curriculum as I go, and it’s taking a lot of time.”
Max wiggled his fingers at Kinsey, who sighed and grabbed her purse off the counter.
“Hey,” Brynn said.
They all looked at her.
“I want in on the next bet.”
Eli grinned like he was proud of her, flashing a dimple and everything. And she might be a strong, independent woman—or at least she was working on it—which meant she didn’t need his or anyone’s approval, but it also didn’t mean it couldn’t feel good to get it.
“You need to get going,” Kinsey reminded Eli.
They all looked at the tie crumpled in his hand.
“Shit,” he said. “I’d rather get stung by a jellyfish again than wear this.”
“Pretty please try to tie it on again,” Kinsey said. “That was a fun show to watch.”
Brynn set down her things and took the tie. Going up on her tiptoes to get it around his neck, she dropped the ends of the tie to lift his shirt collar. When her fingers touched his throat and encountered warm skin, she went still and forgot to breathe.
He was watching her from all of two inches away, and it was . . . shockingly arousing. Enough to fog her glasses. He hadn’t shaved and his scruff scraped at her knuckles, and also at a few other body parts that were thankfully hidden away. She had to take off her fogged glasses, but somehow she still managed to button the top two buttons of his shirt and then work on the tie, keeping her eyes studiously on her own fingers and what she was doing, all while incredibly aware of the way she could feel his warm breath against her temple. They were toe to toe, and nearly chest to chest. If she so much as breathed deeply, there’d be contact.
Please let there be contact, her body whispered to her brain.
Her brain, clearly not on the same no-decision moratorium, approved, and she took a deep breath, her breasts leading the way, gently bumping into him.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
His hands went to her hips and he shook his head, maybe meaning no need for the apology. She felt drunk from inhaling his clean, sexy scent, all of which somehow made the moment even more memorable than that long-ago kiss they still hadn’t talked about.
“There,” she croaked, finally finishing the knot on the tie, giving it a pat.
Eli’s eyes held hers and warmed. And then Kinsey of course had to ruin it.
“Jesus,” she said. “Get a room.”