Three's A Crowd: A Best Friend's Older Brother Rom Com (Love in Apartment #3B Book 2)

by Everly Ashton

  Eventually I do, begrudgingly. I get in and buckle myself in.

  “Where to?” he says.

  I give him directions to the location I want to go to, and twenty minutes later, we arrive.

  “Pull into this parking lot here. It’s only ten dollars to park,” I say, pulling money from my wallet for the attendant.

  I hold it out to Keane. Our fingers brush and my gaze flickers up to meet his as a current of energy passes between us. I yank my hand back and shove my wallet back inside my purse.

  “You come here a lot? You seem to know your way around…” He pulls into the first spot on our right and parks the Jeep.

  “Sometimes on the weekend. But not as much as I’d like to. Though I’ll have more time now that I’m working nights at the shelter.”

  His lips form a thin line, but he exits the Jeep. I do the same.

  “So how’s this work? Do we tie them up and put them in the trunk and be on our way?” he asks.

  I wonder if my eyes can remain permanently narrowed when I’m around Keane. “How this works is that I’ll do all the talking and you will hang back as a silent observer. The last thing these people need is any more judgment about the way they live their lives. And they’re not cattle.”

  “I’m just saying you’re kind of forcing them by coming down here, no?” He rolls his eyes and walks beside me.

  I’m becoming annoyed with the way he’s talking, but I lead us up the block toward an alley where some of the homeless people hang out. “No, many don’t even know about the shelter.”

  “They don’t know about shelters? I find that hard to believe.”

  I blow out a breath. “They don’t know all of them.”

  “So why is it that you have to convince them to use the shelter? I would’ve thought that they’d be happy to score a free meal and a bed.”

  Though I’m irritated by the way he sees things, he’s not the only one who thinks this way. “A variety of reasons. A lot of the homeless have some form of mental illness, so asking them to leave their comfortable area to come to an unknown place with a large number of people is scary for them. There’s also a sense of community sometimes in the homeless population that makes it difficult to get them to come. And then you have the rumors to contend with.”

  “Rumors?” His arm brushes mine as I move to the side to let someone coming down the sidewalk pass by.

  “Some shelters aren’t the safest. There are drug problems or bed bugs or lice. The one I work at is pretty good and we do our best to keep it that way, but that doesn’t mean someone who’s been to one of the worse off shelters can’t spread the message that shelters are unsafe.”

  “Still, you’d think it’s better than what they’re dealing with on the streets.”

  “In some cases yes, in others no.” I shrug. “Many homeless are distrustful of anyone who lives in mainstream society. It just is what it is.”

  “If you say so,” he says with an air of uncertainty.

  We approach the alley entrance and I motion to it with my hand. “We’re going this way.”

  Keane glances down the darkened, narrow alley filled with ten or so people lying on the ground or sitting on makeshift mattresses, and he pulls me back by the upper arm. “Are you sure about this?”

  There’s real concern in his eyes—which I might find charming if it weren’t for the fact that it’s his cynicism that makes him worried.

  I pull my arm from his grasp and head into the alley. “It’s fine. Just hang back and don’t open your mouth.”

  The first person I come across is Dan, a man in his late thirties who suffers from schizophrenia. I’ve never been able to convince him to come to the shelter. Depending on where he’s at on any given day, he can either be sweet as jam or sour as a lemon.

  “Hi, Dan. Do you remember me?”

  He blinks a few times and gazes at me, giving me the once-over with a scowl. “You’re that bitch from the shelter.”

  Keane steps forward, his chest hitting my back. The energy rolling off him hits me and I hold up my hand to keep him back. I can handle name-calling.

  “Fiona, that’s right. How are you doing today?” I crouch so that we’re eye level with one another and I’m no longer towering over him in an intimidating fashion.

  “I’d be fine if people just left me alone.”

  I chuckle. “I understand that. Sometimes it’s nice to be left alone.”

  He looks at me, eyes narrowing as though he’s deciding whether he can trust me or not.

  “When’s the last time you ate?”

  He thinks about it for a moment. “Dunno. Maybe yesterday.” He breaks eye contact and looks at the dirty pavement.

  I pull out one of the Power bars I stashed in my purse and hold it out to him. “I have this with me. You’re welcome to have it if you like.”

  He eyes it for a moment before snatching the bar from my hand as though I might change my mind. Keane shifts his weight in my peripheral vision, but he stays put.

  Dan opens the packaging and takes a bite. “Tastes like shit,” he says, still chewing.

  I shrug. “They’re okay. Lots of good stuff in there though.”

  He acts as though he doesn’t hear me.

  “When’s the last time you went to see them down on Church Street?” I ask.

  He stops chewing and glares at me. “What’s it to you?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re getting all the help you need, that’s all.”

  He mumbles something I can’t make out.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Don’t like them down there. They think they know everything.”

  I give him a small smile. “They’re just trying to help.”

  “I don’t need help!”

  It’s clear this line of conversation is agitating him. I don’t want him to fall into one of his episodes, so I back off. “Have you heard about the shelter on Prince Street, not too far from here?”

  He takes the last bite of Power bar and finishes chewing before answering me this time. “Sure, I heard of it.”

  “I work there. Think you might come down there and get a good meal into you? Maybe stay the night there where it’s safe? You could shower too if you wanted.”

  “I’m not going there. I’m fine right where I am. People like you always think you know what’s best.” He eyes Keane and pulls his belongings closer as though Keane is a threat.

  “Not at all, Dan. I just want to make sure you’re safe and fed.”

  He narrows his eyes as though he’s not quite sure. “I’m good here.”

  Seeing I’m not getting anywhere other than angering him, I back off. “Okay, well, if you ever change your mind, know that you’re welcome any time.”

  “Whatever,” he grumbles.

  I stand and nod to Keane to continue farther down into the alley. His gaze darts all over the place as though he’s calculating and identifying any potential danger.

  “Nice guy,” he says out of the side of his mouth.

  “When he’s on his meds, he actually is.” I head deeper into the alley, recognize a few people who use our services fairly regularly, and say hello.

  “Why doesn’t he take his meds?” Keane asks, actually sounding more inquisitive than judgmental.

  I stop and face him. “Because he’s mentally ill and there’s no one looking out for him every day. He has to go to the day center on his own. When you’re mentally ill and have a distrust of authority… well, it’s rare that he gets there.”

  Keane frowns but doesn’t say anything, so I continue walking into the alley.

  After I’ve talked to a few more people and I’ve handed out some more Power bars, I turn to Keane. “Let’s head to the park. There’s another homeless community there.”

  He nods, and we walk out of the alley. He’s been surprisingly silent since we spoke about Dan. I don’t know why, but it beats putting up with his derogatory comments. I’ll admit it is kind of nice having him here
and knowing he has my back. There have been a few times over the years when I’ve felt uneasy and that I might be in danger.

  As soon as we reach the sidewalk, he says, “Thank God, I can feel the sunshine on my face again.”

  I give him a look.

  “What?” He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just saying.”

  Rather than get into a pissing match, I take a deep breath and push on toward the park. It only takes a few minutes for us to arrive at the east side of the park, where there’s a tent city of sorts set up.

  “Miss Fiona, how you doin’ today?”

  I turn and smile at Ralph sitting on the ground in front of a makeshift tent made of a blue tarp, smiling at me with what teeth he has left. “Hey, Ralph. I’m doing good, how about you?”

  “Can’t complain. No one would listen anyway.”

  I smile then gesture to Keane. “Ralph, this is my friend Keane.”

  Keane raises a hand in greeting. “Good to meet you.”

  “Same. I hope you’re keeping this one safe.” Ralph gestures to me. “I keep telling her she shouldn’t be wandering around here all on her own.”

  Keane’s expression turns smug. “See?”

  I roll my eyes. “Anyway… will I see you later for dinner? Since it’s obvious you’re not there for lunch? I’m working the night shift for a while.”

  “You might now that I know you’re there. See how I feel.”

  I nod. “Good enough. Well, I’m going to see if anyone needs my help. You stay safe, okay?”

  “Same to you, Miss Fiona.” He looks at Keane and points at me. “Good to meet you. Keep an eye on this one.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I always have one eye on her,” Keane says.

  A frisson of energy moves through me. What does he mean by that?

  With a final wave, we head deeper into the park, where the living quarters of the homeless are more concentrated.

  “What’s Ralph’s story?” Keane asks with genuine interest in his tone.

  “He’s a war vet. When he returned from Desert Storm, he wasn’t the same—lost his marriage, didn’t have any extended family, suffers from PTSD, and doesn’t like to be around a lot of people or indoors at all really. That’s why he said he’ll see how he feels about coming to the shelter for dinner. It depends on whether he thinks he can handle it that night or not.” My lips turn down. I wish I could help Ralph get his life back, that I could do more for him.

  “Can’t vet services help him or something?”

  A dry chuckle escapes me. “You’d think so, right? But no. The budget’s not there and they’ve done what they can for him, which isn’t much.”

  “Jesus, that’s terrible. The guy goes and risks his life for our country and that’s what he gets when he returns? Doesn’t seem fair.”

  “It’s not.” We take a few more steps before Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” sounds from my purse. “One second. That’s Jemma.” I reach into my purse and pull out my phone, sliding my thumb across the screen. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Fi. I’m on my lunch break and I wanted to check with you about the engagement party next weekend. I wanted to ask you to extend the invitation to your mom for me?”

  “Of course I will. She’ll be thrilled to come, I’m sure, but I’ll call her later to make sure she’s available.”

  Because we’ve known each other since we were young, Jemma knows my mom fairly well. I know my mom will be touched by the invite.

  “Thanks so much! I’m getting so nervous for this party and I have no idea why.”

  “Everything will be fine. Let me know if you need me to do anything, okay? I’m happy to help.”

  “Just make sure I don’t drink too much. I’m nervous about meeting the rest of Ollie’s family and colleagues. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

  “I’ve got your back, no worries.” I smile although she can’t see me. There’s no way Jemma would ever make a fool of herself.

  “Oh my God. One of my students just got a grape stuck in his nose. I gotta go.” She hangs up.

  I toss my phone back into my purse with a laugh.

  “Do you have a ringtone for everyone?” Keane asks, amusement flashing in his deep blue eyes.

  “For anyone who calls me regularly.” I shrug.

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “If I were in your phone, what ringtone would you pick for me?”

  I stop and stare at him for a moment. “I don’t know.”

  And I really don’t. Before he became my roommate, I might have said Puddle of Mudd’s “She Hates Me,” but lately… I’ve seen a different side to Keane. Not completely detached from the don’t-give-a-shit, antagonistic asshole I saw him as, but there have been snippets of something more to him.

  “Well, when you figure it out, you’ll have to let me know, Squirt.” He ruffles my hair as if I’m a child.

  Ugh. Figures. Shame on me for thinking people change.

  I stomp away from him, his laugh vibrating in my ears.

  Twelve

  Fiona

  The next day, Keane joins me once again as I visit a different part of town to find any other people I can help. I’m not as familiar with the homeless community on this side of town because it’s farther from the shelter.

  I didn’t bother fighting Keane when he insisted on coming with me. It’s not that I feel like I need him for my protection or anything, but it’s kind of nice having him there. I can’t believe I’m even saying that. This is the guy who made me second-guess myself at every turn growing up. But I enjoy seeing a different side to him and… dare I say it? I think he’s beginning to understand why I do what I do. He’s lost some of his skepticism.

  It’s harder for me to make inroads with these people because they’re untrusting at first. Most of them won’t even accept the food I’ve brought to share with them. But that’s okay. If nothing else, I’m tenacious—I’ll earn their trust by showing my face here more often.

  I’m just about to tell Keane that we can head back to the apartment when his stomach growls loudly.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Hungry?”

  “Starving. Someone insists on leaving at the crack of dawn.” He rubs his stomach.

  I try my best not to think about what it would feel like to have his washboard abs under my fingertips. Losing battle, as always.

  “Ten a.m. is not the crack of dawn.”

  “Says the woman who gets to sleep during her night shift.” He lightly elbows me in the ribs.

  I place my hands on his shoulders and push him back, but he doesn’t budge. I guess that’s one benefit to having all those muscles. “Not last night. A fight broke out between a few of the residents and I had to play peacemaker. Even when I sleep there, it’s always with one eye open since I’m responsible for what happens on my watch.”

  “How’s your friend’s mom doing?” he asks.

  “Okay, I guess. She had her surgery earlier this week and now she’s recovering until her chemo starts. Jerica doesn’t want to stray too far into hoping for the best, but I told her she needs to stay positive.”

  He pushes his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugs. “Maybe. But maybe there’s value in expecting the worst.”

  My forehead scrunches. “How’s that?”

  “You won’t be disappointed if the worst happens. If it doesn’t, you’re pleasantly surprised.”

  “Is that your motto?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Well, that seems like a pretty cynical way to look at the world. I’d rather expect the best and live in that headspace.”

  “Like with your father?”

  My face falls.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He reaches out to touch my arm, but I take swift steps down the sidewalk away from him. “Fiona!”

  “I’m not talking about my dad,” I say over my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, it was a stupid thing to say. I just wondered why you didn’t pick up w
hen he called. I won’t ask again.”

  I stop, turning to face him. “Promise?”

  He nods and hold up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “You were never a scout,” I deadpan.

  He drops his hand. “You have my word.” His eyes glimmer with sincerity, so I nod and start walking again. He rushes to walk alongside me. “Where are you going?”

  “You’re hungry. Do you trust me?”

  He looks at me, clearly skeptical. “What do you mean?”

  “I may not be a chef, but do you trust me to take you somewhere good?”

  “Um… sure.”

  “All right, let’s go,” I say, grinning.

  Keane looks at his BBQ Pulled Jack Sub with a wrinkled forehead. He’s smart enough to know there’s no meat in the sandwich. It’s actually shredded jack fruit in a fat-free, refined sugar-free BBQ sauce, served with coleslaw. “I can’t believe you’re making me eat your rabbit food.”

  “Just try it. This place is the best, I’m telling you. I don’t get here enough because it’s on the other side of town.” I bite into my vegan chic’n Caesar wrap. This vegan restaurant is one of my favorites, and I won’t let Keane’s complaints ruin this treat. “Mmm, so good,” I say around a mouthful of food.

  “If this sucks, we’re stopping and getting me a burger on the way home.”

  I shake my head. “Just try it.”

  With a sigh and a beleaguered look, he takes a large bite of the sub and chews. After a moment, his face relaxes, and his eyebrows shoot up as he swallows. “Holy shit, Squirt. You weren’t kidding. This isn’t bad at all.”

  I give him a smug smile and take another bite of my lunch. We eat in silence, both enjoying our meals.

  Keane picks up a napkin and wipes his face, reaching for his drink. “So what made you turn vegan anyway?”

  “Half because of the health benefits—I just feel better when I eat vegan—and half from wanting to be environmentally responsible.”

  A line forms between his eyebrows. “What does veganism have to do with the environment?”

  I set down what’s left of my wrap. “Do you have any idea the environmental impact the practice of raising cattle has on the planet?”