Page 5

Even though I knew that responding would only fuel Alex’s curiosity, I hadn’t managed to ignore much during the flight home. When I’d bolted off the plane, Alex had stared after my retreating back with puppy-dog eyes. I’d done my best not to acknowledge him. I’d already given in enough earlier, due to my inability to tune him out.

I genuinely had no idea how to handle someone like him—and the attention he’d given me. I was used to being ignored or berated, not whatever that had been. I was still mostly convinced he’d been making fun of me. But…I figured that wasn’t something I needed to worry about anymore.

Stop thinking about him.

You’re never going to see him again, I reminded myself as I made my way toward baggage claim to retrieve my checked bag.

Maybe I should’ve said goodbye?

No, no . Absolutely not .

What if he’d assumed it was an invitation for more and asked for my number or something? The thought was enough to make me pause mid-walkway and laugh hysterically.

Yeah fucking right.

The family that had been shuffling beside me paused, the mother pulling her children behind her as she aimed a judgmental look my way. To which I only managed to laugh harder. Fuck. Then I slapped a hand over my mouth so I’d look less unhinged. It didn’t work.

Something was clearly wrong with me.

Because discovering that my luggage had somehow ended up lost had only made me laugh again. Of course it had. Today was a day for fuckery. I tried not to think of the implications of that—grateful I always packed my backpack for this exact fucking reason.

I’d have to go into the city to buy a suit at some point. There was no way in hell I was wearing a casual suit to a wedding. Tacky as hell. Absolutely not. I had an image to maintain. The one thing in life I had going for me was my mom’s pride.

My brother, Joe, was waiting for me in the designated pick up zone.

I sighed when I saw him, relieved to have someone to help me get my mind off of how completely awful today had been. I could taste summer in the air, the thick cloyingness of pollen and sunshine—though the bustle of the city almost drowned it out entirely.

For the first time in years, I was home.

Joe waved at me, all six-foot-five of him, dressed in awful pale-blue flannel and his usual Levi’s and white undershirt. I waved back, making a beeline for him. His expression didn’t change, forever as stoic and expressionless as Dad.

Joe was older than the last time I’d seen him—obviously—and he wore that age well. He was broader somehow. Had new creases at the corners of his mouth from frowning. At twenty-eight years old, Joe looked far more world-weary than he deserved, considering he was basically a giant puppy inside a grumpy, intimidating-looking body.

He was different.

But there was no denying this was my little brother. My only little brother. The same kid who’d followed me around for half our lives, desperate to prove himself.

In contrast with the blank expression he sported, Joe wasted no time demonstrating how enthusiastic he was about my return home. I only had a moment to mentally prepare before he yanked me into a tight embrace. His massive hand smacked my back a few times as he crushed me into him. The sweat-sunny musk of Joe’s natural scent filled my lungs.

“Hi, buddy,” I wheezed, face smashed into his chest.

I did my best not to die.

Which was genuinely a struggle.

Joe was too big and too dumb to realize how strong he was—and how easily breakable I’d become now that he was double my goddamn size.

“ George .” Joe squeezed me tight enough my bones rattled. When he finally set me down, he wasted no time ambling around to the back of the minivan to open the trunk.

It was Lacey’s minivan.

The car she used to transport my adorable niece, Mavis, who I hadn’t had the pleasure to see in person since she was a tiny baby three Christmases ago. My family had flown back East to visit me, and I’d spent the holiday at war with myself. Ecstatic to see Mom, and apprehensive, because Brendon had been pissed off they’d “stolen me” from him.

Joe pulled the trunk open almost ceremoniously. He gestured at the empty space, obviously urging me to toss my backpack in.

“No luggage?” he confirmed, pale brow furrowed in confusion.

“No.” Because my luck could seriously not be worse. Reminded of the uncomfortable encounter at baggage claim, I pinched the bridge of my nose. I’d been apologized to about a half-dozen times. And I would’ve been more pissed about the whole situation, considering how many important items had gone missing, but…

After Alex’s flirting, I’d been far too frazzled.

The employee had looked miserable enough without me beating him up over something he couldn’t control. I’d given him my number in case it turned up, but figured I’d need to cut my losses.

“Why?” Joe looked perplexed. Well, as perplexed as he could, considering his face was made of stone.

“It got lost.” I shrugged a shoulder as his dark blue gaze grew stormy. I had no doubt if I asked, Joe would glare the unlucky employee into submission. But that wouldn’t solve the missing bag issue—so there was no point. “Don’t worry about it.”

Joe nodded.

And that was that.

He waited for me to toss my backpack inside—obviously eager to help, even though it was only one bag. I didn’t think we really needed to use the trunk, all things considered—but I didn’t want to dampen Joe’s mood by pointing that out.

So I didn’t comment.

“Just cleaned the back,” Joe grunted. “Figured you’d appreciate the lack of junk. I even vacuumed.”

Last I’d heard, he’d been borrowing Lacey’s van and acting as an official babysitter on the side while he saved up for a farm of his own. He’d even moved back home, every penny he earned going toward his dream.

I wasn’t the only Milton interested in living back East.

Joe had his heart set on Vermont, a fact that made Mom apprehensive. At least, that’s what she told me when we’d chatted on the phone about it. I didn’t share that apprehension. It was easy to picture Joe on his own. He’d thrive there, especially if he found a farm close to wild life. Animals flocked to him like they saw him as one of their own. He was basically the gigantic, manly version of Snow White—only if she’d been interested in owning an apple orchard and dreamed of going bird watching on the weekends.

Joe’s cleaning left much to be desired. The trunk looked like a cornfield had thrown up in it. There were muddy boot prints. A few broken crayons. A half dozen unicorn-themed toys—all Mavis’s.

It was the thought that counted, right?

And Joe had obviously…tried.

Which was why Joe was my favorite.

The passenger seat was covered in Cheez-It crumbs and Kool-Aid stains. And yet, I melted into it gratefully, absorbing the scent of dirt and family. I was a bit anxious to see my other family members, worried Mom would take one look at me and know how miserable I was, and I’d be unable to play her golden boy the way I desired.

Which was why I let myself soak up Joe’s presence and enjoyed the companionable silence we shared during the forty-minute drive home.

The cornfields were thriving, green, glorious blurs on either side of the windows. Eventually, Joe got me up to date on the family drama—nothing more than a few tiffs between siblings—and updated me about Mavis and her newest obsessions.

The way he spoke to me, all quiet, gruff honesty, made it seem like no time at all had passed since we’d last talked. Despite his efforts, I could feel the chasm that Brendon’s presence in my life had left behind.

It was always bizarre returning to Ohio after living so many years away. Like visiting an alternate dimension of the place I’d grown up. Some things were the same, yes—more paint chipped than when I was a kid, maybe—but mostly unchanged. And others? Other things felt like transplants. Foreign buildings that didn’t fit into the Chesterton of my memories. Too new. Too different. Out of place.

Family, though.

Family was the same, no matter how many years went by.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it free. Like a slap to the face, another text from Brendon broke the calm Joe had lulled me into.

Brendon

I know you read my earlier text, George. Ignoring me is a new low, even for you.

“What?” Joe’s voice was a welcome distraction. But even its familiar cadence couldn’t chase away the shadows left behind from Brendon’s words.

“Nothing. Just work,” I replied, shoving my phone back in my pocket, hands shaking.

I shouldn’t stress over this.

Over something as small as a text.

I wasn’t obligated to reply. Not during my time off.

But it still…Christ. It still bothered me.

Was he going to go to our boss and tell him that I’d been ignoring him? I was past caring about Brendon’s personal opinion of me. But I wasn’t ready for him to ruin my reputation at work.

No one had even known we were dating.

They’d take his words at face value, wouldn’t they?

There was no reason to believe he was vindictive.

And yet…I couldn’t help but think that all of this was my fault.

Because I’d known our relationship wasn’t healthy, yet I’d let him twist me up over and over just so I could feel gratitude on the days he decided to help me untangle the knots he’d tied.

I was never enough for him.

Never what he wanted.

Always begging for scraps of attention, perpetually left empty.

Unbidden, a more pleasant thought rose to the surface.

Namely, Alex James.

His laugh, his massive tanned hands, his gorgeous eyes and the way they’d crinkled at the corners. His dimples, so full of mischief. And the way he’d commanded my attention like it was his right to do so .

Alex hadn’t left me feeling empty.

He’d paid attention to me.

Maybe too much attention.

And as we pulled into the driveway of the picturesque farmhouse that I’d grown up inside, I realized how desperately, horribly, awfully I’d needed that.

My childhood home was a frankly massive three-story country monstrosity. It had white siding, ivy climbing up the walls, and a window for each of the bedrooms. I could vividly remember summers here, chasing Joe and Lacey around the yard with the hose, water casting fragmented rainbows wherever it sprayed. Marcille would watch from the front porch swing, and Mom would ply us with sandwiches and reminders not to track mud in the house come lunch time.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Joe confirmed.

“It’s a backpack, Joe. Pretty sure I can handle it.” I rolled my eyes.

“Sure.” Joe grunted, and I smiled at him. “You dating anyone new?” he asked.

My smile fell immediately.

Well, that was random.

“No.” Slinking out of the car, I catalogued each change.

The lawn was more manicured than I remembered—Joe’s handiwork. Dad’s shed, full of tools and the like, had been repainted a cheerful red. There were scribbles in chalk on the driveway, probably Mavis’s doing. And a different set of curtains hung inside the window that’d been mine growing up, facing across the street to Roderick’s house. I popped my back with a groan, shaking off the funk I was in as I headed toward the trunk to retrieve my backpack.

This felt surreal.

I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad .

Already, I could feel my walls coming up, the need to perform rising to the surface.

“If you’re looking—” Joe recited, almost like this conversation was scripted, and he’d been put up to it.

“I’m not.”

“Roddy’s fiancé has a brother.”

Joe blocked access to my backpack, his large frame waiting expectantly. Held hostage by him and the script he seemed determined to follow, I groaned.

“Not interested.”

“But—”

“Even if I was looking—which I’m not—the last thing I’m going to do while I’m home is entertain the idea of hooking up with the bride’s brother.”

“He’s…cute.” He winced, like he knew exactly how painful this was for both of us but was determined to follow through with it anyway.

“Cute isn’t my type.”

Joe’s brow furrowed. “Huh,” he said, rather eloquently.

He dropped the subject.

Thank God.

I was drained enough already—from the drama of this whole damn trip—and I did not need to add “man troubles” to the mix.

I could hear the party that was raging in our backyard before I saw it. Frowning, I turned to Joe. “Mom went all out with the barbecue,” he said in explanation.

“Barbecue?”

“It’s a welcome-home-George-congrats-Roddy-party. To kick off the celebration.” He nudged me conspiratorially with one of his ginormous shoulders, nearly bowling me over.

I stumbled, trying not to fall flat on the pavement.

“Mom bought your favorite brand of pickles.”

My heart fluttered, light chasing away the shadows Brendon’s texts had left behind. “Oh.” I bit back a smile. I loved pickles. And no, that wasn’t a euphemism.

Apparently, Joe had forgotten that I’d told him I would handle my own backpack. Because before I could catch my balance, the blond giant stopped blocking the trunk and pulled it out.

He didn’t give it to me.

Instead, he slung it over his shoulder, and I sighed, sulking after him as he headed toward the white wooden gate that separated the front from the backyard. Small butterflies flitted along the shrubbery. A tall, drooping maple tree cast a puddle of shade across the grass. Cricket song croaked somewhere in the bushes, the whistle of a summer breeze carrying it through the air.

Dodging a wayward grasshopper, I eyed my backpack distrustfully. I knew, realistically, Neil wasn’t going to jump out all on his own, but I was still truly terrified he’d make a second appearance.

I had to fight back the urge to reach out and yank the damn thing off of Joe’s back.

No one is going to open your bag without permission, I reassured myself. It’s fine.

“I’m assuming Roderick is already here?” I grimaced, glancing behind to check the house across the street. Just looking at it made my heart hurt. I’d grown up there as much as I’d grown up inside my own childhood home. Roderick and I had been friends for far longer than we’d dated. It felt strange to look at his home through the lens of thirty-three-year-old George.

I didn’t want Roderick. Not anymore.

That wasn’t a pain I still carried.

“Yep.” Joe said. “Is that weird?”

It was definitely weird.

“No,” I replied as we finally reached the gate. “Why would it be weird?”

Joe leveled me with a look that made it clear he thought I was being an idiot.

I was not fooling anyone, least of all myself.

“Do you still love him?” Joe frowned.

“ No ,” I bit out. “Absolutely not. ”

“Good.” Joe nodded seriously. He pushed open the gate, and I prepared to see Roderick in the flesh for the first time since we’d broken up a decade prior.

You’re fine, George.

It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you.

He’s just a guy you used to date, nothing more.

I fixed my hair, anyway. Then I adjusted my suit and checked my shoes for dirt streaks or wayward airport gum. Nothing. As spiffy as when I’d shined them that morning. I was grateful they’d dried enough not to bother me anymore.

When I decided I was as physically ready as I’d ever be, I followed Joe through the gate. He was only a few feet ahead of me, and I hurried to catch up, eyes tracking the sway of my backpack as it sat tiny on Joe’s broad back. As soon as I’d ensured the zipper was still firmly shut, I took in my surroundings.

As per usual—in typical Mom fashion—the yard had been invaded by a small army of white foldable picnic tables. There were a myriad of tablecloths thrown across each one. Splashes of Christmas, fall, summer, and spring decorations coated the yard in a rainbow-meshed tableau.

The party was a potluck, judging by the giant bowls full of food lining the table designated to house the plethora of options. Joe slapped me on the back in lieu of a goodbye. Then he headed off toward where my dad was grilling on the porch, bringing my backpack up the stairs with him.

Dad said he liked to be up high. It made him feel like the king of the world as he gazed down on the rest of us peasants wandering around his massive backyard like barbecue-fueled ants.

I loved my dad. Even though he was bad with words, allergic to affection, and made the worst burgers in the history of the universe.

Every one of my siblings was present today—aside from my oldest sister, Marcille, who Mom had told me hadn’t been able to make the trip back home. It felt surreal to stand in my backyard like no time had passed.

Mom found me a second later.

She was dressed as she always was, curvy body drowning in a dress so colorful and garishly patterned she might as well be wearing a neon sign. Her giant blonde hairstyle was even rounder than usual, rising easily five inches above her head in the classic beehive she and the other women in town considered fashionable.

Mom was the local hair stylist. She took great satisfaction in making everyone in town look just like her.

“ Mom ,” my voice broke.

Suddenly, I was a kid again, transported back in time.

“George.” Mom enveloped me in her arms, holding me tight. She was so soft. So warm. She always managed to smell like the oddest combination of sunscreen, cookies, hairspray, and laundry detergent.

For a moment, I simply breathed her in, squeezing back as my face buried in the crisp round of her over-hairsprayed updo.

“You’re too skinny,” she said the second she pulled away, hands rubbing my arms. “You look tired. Have you not been sleeping?”

I laughed, chest aching. “I’ve been sleeping just fine.”

Another lie.

Mom made a disapproving sound, then pulled me into another hug. Longer this time. “Welcome home, baby,” she said.

And just like that, my fear dissipated.

Gone like it’d never been there at all.

After Mom had paraded me around to all her friends—making me recite what I did for a living and tell them about the many “big-name” companies I’d designed for, she finally left me alone. I missed her, but felt settled in a way I hadn’t for a very long time.

It was good to be home.

I was grateful for the opportunity to feel like something other than a failure. The last year had been horrible, to say the least. Between the breakup, getting over the breakup, and Brendon’s refusal to leave me alone both in and outside of work, I was spread thin—two seconds from snapping at any given moment.

Mom’s pride was the tether I’d desperately needed.

Dad gave me a nod from his perch on top of the porch.

For him, that was as good as declaring his undying love.

Lacey flipped me off as she stacked her plate high with snacks—again, a show of obvious affection. So, I was feeling pretty fucking good about myself—and my decision to come home by the time I turned back to the crowd of people that spread across the lawn.

I’d almost forgotten about Roderick.

But there he was, sitting unobtrusively at one of the picnic tables. He clearly saw me too, because he smiled at me and waved. My heart skipped a beat, anxiety sending a cold wash through me.

Yes, I’d flown all this way because he was getting married.

Yes, he’d invited me.

Yes, we’d stayed distant friends since our breakup when we were younger.

And no, I hadn’t been lying when I told Joe I didn’t love Roderick.

But that didn’t stop my body from reacting like he was going to jump on top of the table, point at me, and start laughing.

Maybe it was the trauma of the dildo incident.

Or the lingering pessimism that accompanied my suitcase going missing.

Either way, I couldn’t help but expect the worst, my good mood dissipating as I realized there was no getting out of this.

Roderick patted the empty place next to him in a way I figured he thought looked inviting, but wasn’t. The last thing I wanted to do was crease my suit by sitting in a camping chair—but I did so anyway, consequences be damned. It creaked beneath my weight, sucking my butt inside it like a nylon black hole.

Roderick was older now. Obviously. Unfortunately for me, he’d aged well. His brown eyes twinkled as he peered at me from overtop the rim of his glasses .

“Hiya, George.” Roderick’s lips pulled into a smile that I couldn’t help but return. It felt as natural as breathing was supposed to. He’d always had that effect on me.

“Good afternoon, Roderick.” I opted for formal, figuring it was the best way to go. “Congratulations on your pending nuptials.”

Congratulations on your pending nuptials?

What was I? An automated email?

“Thank you.” Roderick cocked his head at me like he was trying to figure me out. “I’m glad you decided to come. June and I have a whole itinerary planned. She’s excited to meet you.”

Why in the hell would she be excited to meet me?

“A whole…itinerary?” I frowned, confused. “On top of the ceremony?”

“Of course!” He beamed at me. “You only get married once!” Roderick had a nice voice. Boring but soft. Like something you’d hear on an infomercial about blenders. “We’re both outdoorsy so we’re more excited about the lead up to the wedding than the wedding itself.”

What the hell did that mean?

“How…modern of you,” I replied, because it felt like a nice thing to say.

“That’s what I said!” Roderick’s smile softened. “You don’t mind attending, do you?” He inquired, tone gentle. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Jesus, why was everyone asking me this?

“I’m not in love with you,” I blurted out, my cheeks growing hot. “So no. It’s not weird.”

“Good.” Roderick’s grin was back. “I wanted you here.”

I debated asking him why , but figured that would be rude. Besides, I knew why. Before we’d dated, we’d been friends. And before we’d been friends, we’d been neighbors. We’d grown up practically living inside each other’s pockets. It would’ve been odd not to attend Roderick’s wedding—when I was the one in the Milton clan who had actually mattered.

“I wanted to be here.” The words surprised me almost as much as the fact that they were true. “I admit…I thought it was a little…unorthodox to invite me, considering our history. But I understand. I’m happy for you, Roderick. Truly, I am.”

“Thanks, George,” Roderick said, laying a hand on mine and giving it a squeeze. “Means a lot coming from you. You were a big part of my life when I was younger. I don’t think I’d be who I am today without you.”

Oh.

Well.

That was just?—

I blinked, misty-eyed. “I feel the same.”

We sat for a beat in silence, but that silence was comfortable.

“Friends?” Roderick offered me his hand. “No weirdness attached?” I shook it, unfairly reminded of the other handshake I’d received that day. Alex’s skin had been hotter, drier. And I could tell by the almost limp hold Roderick had on me that our lack of desire for one another was mutual.

“Friends,” I agreed, releasing his hand without feeling any sort of drive to linger.

“So—”

“No more sincerity,” I interrupted him. “Please. I’ve reached my quota for the day.”

“Deal.” Roderick laughed. “Good to see you haven’t changed.”

He was wrong.

I had changed.

And not for the better.

Roderick was still talking, but I zoned out. A numb sense of sadness came over me as I watched the crowd mingle and laugh. People were gorging themselves on potato salad and red Jell-O. An unnamed child I didn’t recognize with jet black hair and an inflatable baseball bat was screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Anyway, we all thought you two might hit it off,” Roderick continued, oblivious to the fact that I wasn’t listening.

It took me a second to realize what he’d said.

“Not you too,” I groaned.

It seemed even Roderick was trying to play matchmaker.

“June’s brother is a really nice guy, George,” Roderick promised. “He’s all professional like you are. A career man. Big job. Briefcase. The whole shebang.” There were plenty of “career men” out there. I sighed despondently. “—aaaaand he wants kids.”

Oh.

Oh.

Well, that was interesting.

My full focus was now on Roderick. He smiled at me, pleased. “June says he wants a lot of kids.”

It was no secret that I, too, desired a large family.

I’d always loved children. More so than anyone. In fact, when I’d gone to college, I’d originally been planning on becoming an elementary school teacher. That hadn’t happened, but the sentiment remained.

I wanted to be a dad.

I knew I’d be good at it too. Firm where firm was needed. Kind and fair. I’d love all of my children the way they deserved to be loved—with my whole fucking heart. The problem was…I’d never been brave enough to attempt to adopt on my own.

And thus far, obviously, I’d had an incredibly difficult time finding a partner who was interested in the kind of brood I desired. Brendon had convinced me he wanted that too—that it was only a matter of time before we adopted our first.

Stupidly, I’d believed him.

Only to find out later that it—like most of his promises—was only a ruse.

“How many kids?” My eyes narrowed, and Roderick’s smile grew even slicker. He was shorter than me by an inch or so, though he was thicker, especially as he’d filled out the last few years. Fuller around the middle than he’d been when we were younger, and he wore that width well. Juniper was a lucky woman, that was for sure.

“Last I heard, three to five,” Roderick said.

“Five kids? Or five total people?” Inquiring about Juniper’s brother didn’t mean I was committing to actually dating him. I was curious. That’s all.

“Kids.”

Five kids?

Christ.

I’d never met another man interested in that many before.

Juniper’s brother was getting more and more attractive by the minute—and I hadn’t even seen him. Ready to interrogate Roderick further—about health plans and savings—I was interrupted when the crowd erupted in a riotous cheer.

What the fuck?

“Juniper! Juniper!” I turned my head, watching as everyone scattered toward the gate that Joe and I had come through in anticipation. It slid open, and a tiny woman in a frankly giant dress popped through. She wore an oddly recognizable shit-eating grin.

Had I met her before?

No, no. I would’ve remembered that. I’d seen her on the invitation, that was why she looked familiar. No other reason.

Juniper’s blue eyes flashed, big skirt swirling as she waved both hands up at the sky and bellowed her hello. For a itty bitty thing, she had a surprisingly deep voice. Nearly as deep as mine, honestly.

Double-fisting two beers, Juniper twisted to face the gate, waiting for someone.

Her brother, probably.

Right.

Yes.

That made sense .

The man of many matchmakers.

Was there something wrong with him? Not to be mean, but it was a fair conclusion to come to, considering how desperate everyone seemed to set us up.

The shade from the maple tree mostly concealed him, so it was hard to catch details. I squinted, but that didn’t help.

“There they are!” Roderick rose from his seat. “Over here, June!” It was impossible to look away. Roderick’s waving was as awkward as it was adorable. These awful, clumsy jerks of both his arms that kicked up enough wind that I worried he’d muss my hair. The two lovebirds were only twenty feet apart, and yet, he was acting like he was beckoning a plane down a runway.

I didn’t see why he needed to be so…exuberant.

But I suppose…it was cute. Especially when I glanced at Juniper and realized she was waving her arms just as excitedly back at him.

“That’s June’s brother,” Roderick whispered to me through the corner of his mouth, arms still jerking. “The tall one behind her.”

I wanted to act aloof—to prove how very uninterested in this little matchmaking endeavor I was…but nosiness got the better of me. So, instead of looking anywhere else, I found myself observing a tall, muscular man as he stepped out of the shade and into the sun.

His thighs tested the seams of his jeans, flexing in an oddly familiar and distracting way. For a moment, I let my imagination run wild. It was almost too easy to picture a kid attached to each leg, holding on for dear life as Juniper’s brother played with our children.

Those were excellent fathering thighs.

Sturdy.

Capable.

His hands, too.

Even from a distance, I could tell they were nice and big, just the way I liked.

He shoved them in his pockets, and I sighed wistfully as my eyes traveled up his gorgeous forearms. Ropey muscle, covered in dark hair. One wrist sported a lovely watch, expensive no doubt, round face glinting in the sun. It looked worn. An heirloom perhaps?

Eager for more, after nothing but pleasant surprise after pleasant surprise, I dragged my gaze up the stranger’s full pectorals to his throat—surely something had to be wrong with him? Thus far, I couldn’t fathom why he’d need help getting dates at all.

At least…until I saw his face.

I don’t know what I expected.

But—it certainly wasn’t what I got.

Because familiar, taunting dimples haunted the edges of Alex’s smirk. And those pale eyes burned bright, zeroing in on me like a hunter who’d spotted prey.

His eyes said, there you are.

And I was once again tempted to run.

That’s right.

Juniper’s brother was Alex from the goddamn plane.

Dildo-saving, suit-wearing, infuriatingly-sexy Alex.

Jesus Christ, I was so fucking fucked.