Page 19 of Emerson

But I don’t keep my mouth shut.

I lean a breath closer, hovering my face over his.

“I’ve missed you.”

Emery inhales sharply, eyes on my mouth. He watched every word form on my lips from inches away. He makes a sound in his throat, a needy whine that’s wholly involuntary with the way he pushes off of me with his very next breath.

If he was pretty and blushed before, he’s positively radiant now with the way he reddens for me.

His brothers always teased him about his crush on me, and I was a dick for laughing at it. Sometimes even teasing him myself. It was a joke back then.

None of this is a joke now.

But Emery still huffs like it is, storming out with his middle finger raised.

Emerson

My older brother, Jesse, is holding his steepled fingers against pursed lips, watching me through the screen from across the world. He’s shirtless with wild hair like he rolled out of bed to answer my call. Poor guy has been subjected to forty-five minutes of me aggressively pointing to the mood board I spent all day making for the cabin.

“Do you agree that the counters should be butcher block instead of granite?” I pause to ask, dropping my pointer stick with the little finger at the end to my side.

Jesse watches me for a moment longer before clearing his throat and dropping his hands. “Baby br—”

“No. Nein. Ney-ney. No baby anything.” I waggle the pointer at him on the screen where my computer is perched on my kitchen island, so he can see the whiteboard I have for occasions just like this one.

“O…kay, brother. Yes, I agree with the butcher block counters. While I think navy would look good, I also agree the dark sage or olive-toned cabinets would fit the vibe,” he says, making quote fingers and smirking. “I also think that it’s very, and I can’t stress the very here enough, strange that it’s what…” He looks off to the side, then counts on his fingers. “Like seven in the evening there, and you’re still in your pajamas. What’s going on, Em?”

What's going on?

I feel like a tea kettle, all of the things just boiling away inside me. I’m practically vibrating with it all. The steam is about ready to blast my fucking head clean off.

“Em?” Jesse asks, pushing his glasses up his nose with a finger and moving closer to the screen. “Is your face turning purple?”

I exhale loudly, and with it comes a very unfortunate sentence.

“I kissed Dillon.”

“Wooahhh,” Jesse starts, but I cut him off.

“A million years ago. It was nothing. But I’ve spent two years avoiding him because he’s a gross dude bro, and he’s straight and a dad. But now I’m forced to be near him for Warren’s sake, who, by the way, won’t even tell me why Morgan dumped him!” I’m pacing, sucking in haggard breaths. I swing around, jabbing the pointer in the air between the computer and me. “And you know what he said, Jess? Huh? You know what that bastard said to me yesterday?”

I snatch the cupcake that’s been taunting me from the counter since I put it there this morning. I growl, shoving half of it between my lips. Why is it so good?

“Um. What did he say?”

Crumbs fly out of my mouth when I bark a deranged laugh. “He said he missed me.”

“And this is…very bad?”

“This is horrible, Jess. The fucking worst, actually. I stormed out. And then you know what he did? He left me a cupcake.” I shake the crumbling goodness at my brother before shoving the rest of it in my mouth. “I found it outside my apartment door this morning in a little pink box when I tried to kick Eleanor out.”

Eleanor mrows her crunchy, ancient meow from the couch.

“There is just…so much to unpack here.” Jesse scrubs his hands over his face. “Let’s start with the kiss…”

My apartment door flies open then, and Ian and Zane come through. I wipe frosting from my mouth with the back of my hand like an animal.

“Ever heard of knocking you big fucks?”