The box doesn’t talk back. Great news: my exhaustion hasn’t caused hallucinations.
After last night and this morning, I’d say yes—I'm still crazy in love with the hot guy who rolled through my door and surprised me. I tear through the box, pulling out framed pictures that need to be hung. I lay them in the corner after removing their bubble wrap then sit beside them, popping bubble after plastic bubble. What happens if the feelings go away when the surprise factor fades? Does eighteen years of friendship make up for the three years I spent hurt and alone?
Knock, knock, knock.
My heart jumps, and my eyes shoot to the front door. Surprises have been my friends lately, even if I hate them, so I don’t feel the usual annoyance at having an unexpected visitor. I put down the bubble wrap and push off the floor as the knob turns, and Ryan and Cherry burst in.
“Cherry!”
Her lack of eye contact and her walk filled with too much bravado screams busybody. Couple that with my brother scowling as he’s pulled in tow, and I’m pissed.
“What?” Her guilty smile falters as she twists to acknowledge our brother. “I had to say something.”
“No. You didn’t. You’re overstepping.” I knot my fingers together. “Where’s Cally?” Cherry knows I hate changes in my plans, but she still pulls this stunt, using her status as my older sister as if she’s somehow wiser and knows better than I do. It drives me batty.
Cherry shrugs. “With Mom, picking out your birthday present.”
“Mom knows?” My eyes bulge. “You roped in Ryan and Mom. Nice, Cherry. Think you’re overstepping the line?”
“Not really. I didn’t even know he was in town.”
“I didn’t have a chance to tell you! It’s not like Grayson’s a secret.”
“So, he shows up, and bam.”
“Don’t be a bitch,” I hiss, trying to remember that I love her, appreciate her. But… God. “You have no idea. Don’t judge.”
Ryan’s out of uniform and brushes by me as though he’s going to do some cop search. As much as I long for independence, I have to rely on my family. It gives them an all-access pass to my life, though—one of the many reasons they come through the door whenever the urge hits.
Cherry and I both watch Ryan head toward the back of the house as if I’m hiding Grayson in a hall closet. “I had to tell Mom because this is some kind of family-related emergency intervention.”
“You’re creating drama where there is none.”
She opens a box marked LIVING RM but doesn’t unpack any of the contents. “This is a big deal.”
A big deal? Yeah. But not because of how they’re acting. Grayson is home. He’s back again like a prodigal son or something. I want to scream. My pulse thumps in my neck. “Unpack a box, or go.”
Still, she doesn’t unpack but just waits for Ryan. I’m ninety-nine percent sure I remember an episode of Sesame Street telling me to expel frustration with tummy breathing. There was even a song. I can’t remember it, but I do know I should do something before I have an aneurysm.
I take a deep break in and blow it out.
Hm. Kind of works. Until my brother comes back into the living room, obviously not fruitful in his boyfriend-back-from-the-dead search. The patronizing, overly protective stares of my siblings lock onto me, and no amount of tummy breathing is going to help this moment. “You two are being ridiculous.”
Cherry shakes her head. “He destroyed you, Emma. You think we don’t want to protect you guys?”
“You haven’t given him a chance.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Cally is his daughter!”
“I don’t care.” She throws her arms out. “You are so close to doing everything on your own. Look at you. You don’t need him!”
“My God, Cherry, give the feminist theatrics a rest.” Tummy breath. “I don’t need anyone. I could do this without you and Mom, but I don’t want to.” Tummy breath. “I want him here. Just like I want, appreciate, and need you all.”
Ryan still hasn’t said anything, and that says a lot. Adequately done snooping, he sits on the couch and pats the cushion. “Sit down with me.”
I’m at a loss. I'd rather unpack every box in this place, get a million cardboard cuts, and tear up my hands than get a big-brother lecture from him. Seriously, he’s acting as if he’s a wise old man, when I know that the entire time he was in the police academy he partied like a frat boy. His job is responsible, but he’s no old man. “Cut it out, Ry.”
“Come on. Sit.” He nudges his head. “Cherry, go get a water or something.”
She scowls but slowly wanders from the living room toward the kitchen. Very slowly.
Grayson and Ryan were close. When Grayson left me, he left Ryan, too. When Ryan found out I was pregnant, and no one could find Grayson, my brother was homicidal. I can’t remember how long that took to pass. Maybe it didn’t. Right now, he’s silent, his face unreadable—not ready for premeditated homicide but potentially still as deadly. That’s not good, considering a rookie cop can’t make a mistake like murdering an old buddy. The county police frown upon that, and I need Ryan to remember there’s no need to defend his baby sister’s honor.
“Can’t believe she has you caught up in this,” I murmur, settling on the couch next to him.
Ryan’s jaw is set. His eyes are hard. A vibrating animosity that could rival an arctic freeze emanates from him. Shit, shoot, shit. Not the greatest vibe to deal with when trying to talk sense to him.
“Where is he?” Ryan finally asks, not looking at me. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, fingers locked. One by one, he cracks his knuckles. “Or did he get what he wanted?”
Jesus Jones on a cracker—my family is all about the dramatics today. “Don’t be an ass. He’s out.”
“And he’s coming back this time?”
“Seriously, stop the jerk routine.” So, Cherry told Ryan about Gray showing up on the couch—and that she saw him without a shirt. Now she and I are really going to have it out. What happened to my wild, carefree older sister who actually suggested I become a stripper—at the place where she used to strip? God! Where’s the girl who knows I’m not a moron and who cried alongside me when we thought Grayson had died? When all this calms down, I’m going to have words with her about sisterly loyalty. “If you two are going to interrogate me, Cherry can stop hovering in the corner. She’s going to break her neck trying to listen.”
A heartbeat later, she’s back in the room, playing like she wasn’t climbing the wall to listen. “Hey.”
“I’m not a crying teenager knocked up and left alone.”
Ryan growls. “Not anymore.”
“Cut the attitude, Ry.”
His gaze slices through me. It’s frigid and meant to change my mind about… who knows what, exactly? The entire idea of a relationship? Giving Grayson a chance and having too much fun with him once I finally have alone time? It doesn’t matter. None of this is their business.
Ryan cracks another knuckle. “He shows up, and you erase the past.”
“Maybe.”
“Shit.” Disappointment rolls off of him. “And where the fuck is he anyway?”
She nods as if Grayson not being here is breaking some rule. Once back, he can never leave? I consciously do not tummy breathe—I hold on to my aggravation. “Like you’re the shining symbol of modesty and appropriate behavior.”
“I’m not the—”
I shake my head. “Don’t say whatever you're about to. Really. I’m done with this, and that goes for both of you. I might be the youngest, but I’ve got years on you both.”
Silence.
“You know it, too. Slumber parties with pancakes and a shiny rookie badge have nothing on being a single mom. Nothing.”
Ryan’s jaw works back and forth. The tendons in his neck pop as though he’s physically restraining himself. Cherry jumps up and paces, wearing a hole in my hardwood floor. We’re all silent, and the energy in the room is toxic.
“Now that we’ve crossed that awkward moment, what else you guys got?” I’m done with their judgment. “Anything? No? Then let’s start over.”
“No one wants to see you get hurt,” Ryan says. “He shows up after leaving for no good—”
“God!” I push off the couch. “You don’t know that.”
“He skipped town after he—”
“Ryan Kingsley, don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
“Emma.” Patronizing me, he follows me and rubs my shoulder. “When a guy walks away after—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. He was your best friend, Ry. Do you really think that Grayson screwed me, got his jollies off, and walked out like I was some high school checklist? You don’t think that anything else could’ve been at play?” I snap at him. “We’ve avoided this conversation for years now. So, here it is. Let’s have it out.”
“He left. That’s all that matters.” Ryan goes back to the couch. “Poof! And the asshole was gone. You were alone at the beach. I’ll never forget. Fuckin’ never forgive myself.”
“Enough with that. I’m so sick of you acting like you have something hanging over your shoulders. Like you—”
“I wasn’t sick.” His head drops. Hell, his whole body slumps.
I don’t understand. “What?”
Ryan rubs his temples, and even Cherry steps forward, curious. A ragged growl pushes from his lips. “I wasn’t sick the day you and Gray went to the beach. I wanted you two to work your shit out. So, I bagged on the ride to the shore. You two made up or whatever, job well done on my part. So I thought.”
Holy. Effin’. Shit. “Oh…”
“Holy crap, Ryan.” Cherry drops to the other side of him on the couch.
Still rubbing his temples, he barely lifts his head. “See? I played a part in this mess.”
Now I understand the years of anger and his constant sense of guilt. I sit down and lean my weight against him and then hug him. “Gray and I…. we would’ve ended up at the same spot. The same… situation.”
He shakes his head. “I pushed it.”
“No,” I whisper. “We had to work through something that happened before.”
Cherry hugs Ryan from the other side. “They did have… a before.”
I know she remembers the details from after the Sadie Hawkins dance, from when I came this close to losing my virginity.
“Grayson and I were still crazy about each other.” I tuck my chin on the edge of his shoulder, appraising the barren room and boxes and briefly wondering how life would be if I traipsed off to college. “I loved him way before I was pregnant. He loved me, too.”
Ryan pushes away from Cherry and me. “Guys will say anything to get what they want. You do know that. You’re not stupid.”
A calm lands over me. “I have no doubt that Grayson Ford still loves me as much as he did the day I first kissed him. None.”
Ryan’s jaw drops.
Cherry tucks her legs under her as she repositions on the couch. “But he still left.”
I nod. “But this is the thing: he was gone way before the beach. I just didn’t know it, and he couldn’t figure out how to share it.”
Her head tilts. “Meaning?”
I’m just repeating myself at this point, and I don’t know what I expect from them. “This isn’t going anywhere. If you can let me be, I have things I want to do.” Like find Grayson because I need a hug.
Ryan crosses his arms and leans against the window. He makes an imposing impression, and I’m half-sure he’s doing it to warn my new neighbors that I have an enormous older brother standing watch. “Emma—”
“I need to call Mom and have a potentially awkward conversation with Dad. If you want to unpack boxes, have at it. Otherwise, I love you, but go.”
“Okay. Fine.” Cherry’s eyes flash to Ryan, and she fidgets. It’s a telltale sign that she’s up to something. Besides, that was way too easy. Something’s off.
“What?” I ask. Ryan's expression betrays nothing, but Cherry’s plans are always on her face. Warning bells are ringing. She’s up to no good. “What now, guys?”
“Hm? Nothing.” She smoothes her pants while gracefully heading for the front door.
Crap.
Ryan clears his throat. “We were going to go see him, too. But maybe we won’t.”
“What!”
He shrugs.
Cherry stops tugging at her clothes. “Pays to have a cop brother.”
“I don’t even know where he’s staying.”
“Grand Hotel on Main.” Ryan’s jaw ticks, as if he’s holding back an explosion of alpha-male big-brother impulses. “But maybe we’ll hold tight for now.”
“Yeah, maybe you should,” I grumble. “At least you came here first.”
Cherry rolls her eyes. “It was a toss-up for who was first: you or him. You won. You always win. Because we love you.”
I drop my head back on the couch. “I want this to work, and for that to happen, you two have to back off.”
Ryan does his best cop walk, each footstep sounding heavy. After a few paces, he gives me a tight nod of agreement. “You do what you feel is best, Emma. He fucks up though? No amount of your pleas will hold me back.”
“Ryan…”
He shakes his head. His eyes are harsh, and his normal smile is a thin line that speaks volumes to the fight brewing inside him. “Baby sister, it’s like you forgot what he did to you.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “He gave me the best thing I have in the entire world.”
A long moment of silence hangs heavy.
“Cally’s the best.” Ryan rubs his hand in his hair. “But sometimes, you need a second opinion. And don’t just rely on Cherry. I do not like her crazy thoughts and rationales, about which we are going to talk later.”
My eyes shoot to my sister. For one terrifying second, I think she’s completely lost her mind and told Ryan that she introduced me to Bruno. That Ryan knows I’m stripping. But she shakes her head almost imperceptibly.
His phone rings, and he turns to answer it, giving Cherry and me a moment to glare at each other over whatever Ryan was talking about.
He struts back around, nodding, phone still to his ear. “Got it.” A moment later, he hangs up. His forehead furrows, and the corners of his eyes show the start of stress lines. “Cherry, let’s go.”
I watch their interactions. “What, are you guys partners now? Jeesh. Stay and unpack a box.”
Cherry uses her hands to make fake guns and shoots them in the air as if she’s Wile E. Coyote. After her Lone-Ranger moves, she blows the imaginary smoke from each and slips them into imaginary holsters.
Ryan harshly chuckles. “Just remember, mine are real, Emma. As is the badge. Anything hurts you, I hurt back.”
I smile as they leave then lock the door behind them, sliding down to the floor. Could have gone worse. I hit my head on my knees. But it could’ve gone a lot better.
CHAPTER FIVE
Emma
I’m really proud of all I’ve accomplished. My cuticles are messed to hell, my fingers scratched and dry. I’ve unpacked our clothes and Cally’s toys, decorated as much as I can without using a hammer to hang up pictures, and I am freakin’ exhausted. But… I look around. This house looks like a home. A real home, all mine.
Cally is asleep in her bed with every single stuffed animal that I unpacked. It’s almost impossible to find the kid buried in all the plush, but she’s there, softly breathing, with a smile on her face.
My phone rings, pulling me out of space. Grayson’s number lights the screen, and the first thing I’m going to do after we end this call is program his name. “Hey.”
“Hey, pretty mama.”
God, I love that. “How’d today go?”
He groans.
“That good, huh?”
“The job interview, that was fine.”
“That’s good.” A job. Stability. I can’t help but be nervou
s that it all might flit away.
“Some other stuff I had to deal with. Basically—” He blows out into the phone. “Ya know, Pops is a piece of shit.”
A lump surfaces in my throat. “Yeah. You talk to him?”
“Something like that—so you’ve talked to him.”
I bite my bottom lip. Every interaction I had with his father was rough. “He wasn’t super conversational.”
“I bet. God, I hate that fucker.”
“So, why’d you go see him?”
“I don’t know.” His voice is strained.
“I’m sorry…” I want him to come over. I need him to. But I have work, and I don’t know the ground rules for what’s too much, what’s too needy. He could take a look at all the responsibility my life’s laden with and run his hot butt away. With the tightness in his words, I’m not sure what to say. “So…”
“You care if I call you later? I’ve got a shit ton on my mind.”
“Yeah, no. Of course.”
“Alright, Ems. Thanks for letting me figure this out.”
Whatever “this” is. “Sure.”
A quick goodbye, he’s gone, and I’m even lonelier. Doesn’t matter. My mom should be here in an hour, so I can head to the diner. I toss my phone onto the couch then go into the kitchen for a granola bar.
Working the night shift sucks, but for the first time, I’m struck by three thoughts. The first is about how Grayson—after he and Cally are more than adequately comfortable together—could be here when I have to head to work, so my family isn’t constantly helping me. Second—my cheeks heat, and my stomach somersaults—what if Cally and I were more like Cally, Grayson, and I? Like, a mommy and a daddy with their baby?
But my third thought quickly cools the others because Gray has no idea that I’ve been working like this. He’s going to feel awful, and I may never tell him about Emerald’s. Stripping allowed me to move out from my parents’ house, go to school, and save. I would work more nights there, but Bruno has a theory: I’ll make more money as a once-a-week special than an everyday treat. Compared to the other girls’ take, he’s right, and I refuse to regret the decision to dance, even if I don’t enjoy it.
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