Page 5 of Coming for Her Brother’s Best Friend (Coming For Christmas #4)
HAYES
I entered the lodge and almost had to cover my ears against the roar.
I’d only been gone a few hours, long enough to grab breakfast and make a halfhearted attempt at the gym, but walking back in was like stepping into a different world.
Yesterday, it had been still and quiet. This morning, laughter ricocheted off timber beams and brass luggage carts squeaked under mountains of designer suitcases.
The wedding party had arrived, and people were everywhere.
Bridesmaids squealed around Harper in a blur of puffy coats, their hair and makeup already too perfect for ten a.m. Harper herself was incandescent, wrapped in a long white coat and glowing like a princess in her own fairy tale.
Groomsmen shouted across the lobby at each other, dragging half-zipped garment bags and making jokes that weren’t funny but had them doubled over, anyway.
Even the damn harp had arrived, trundled through the lobby in a mahogany case like someone was smuggling in a baby grand.
And in the center of it all, Sidney held the chaos together with nothing but a clipboard and a smile.
She didn’t yell. She just kept her calm and moved from one small group to the next, checking in with everyone.
A tilt of her chin sent a bellhop sprinting for the elevators with a cartload of welcome bags.
A flick of her pen redirected a bridesmaid who was about to stage an impromptu photoshoot in the middle of the luggage bottleneck.
She caught Harper’s elbow mid-spin and murmured something that made the bride beam, then peeled away before she could get trapped in introductions and conversations that would take up too much of her valuable time.
I stayed in the shadows by the window, letting the tide of bodies roll past. Rand saw me and cut through the crowd with his usual grin.
He stopped at the concierge desk to confirm something, and I caught the way his eyes flicked toward Sidney like she was the commander-in-chief of the weekend.
Ten years ago, he’d led men through live fire.
Today he deferred to her without even noticing he was doing it. Everyone here did.
One of the groomsmen pulled away from the pack and made a beeline for Sidney, grinning the kind of grin that probably got him out of traffic tickets.
“Sidney,” he called, stretching out her name like he was pulling taffy.
“Do we have to RSVP for the welcome drinks tonight, or can I just crash them like usual?”
“You’re on the list,” she said, not looking up from her clipboard as she handed him a printed schedule. “So technically you’re not crashing.”
“Then I’ll crash them anyway.” He winked and strolled off, completely unaware that my jaw had just locked hard enough to crack molars.
It was harmless. I knew it was harmless. She wasn’t mine. And yet my shoulders went tight like I was bracing for an impact that wasn’t coming.
Sidney kept moving, already issuing instructions to the bell staff. A garment bag tipped off one of the carts. I caught it before it hit the floor and hauled it upright. The bellhop blinked at me, startled, like he didn’t know how to respond to a guest doing anything that involved work.
“You don’t have to do that,” Sidney said, appearing at my elbow in a blur of cream wool and focus. Her tone made it sound like an accusation.
“They were falling.”
“I have people for falling things.”
“Then I guess you can consider me a bonus person.”
Her fingers brushed mine on the bag handle. She stilled, and so did I. It was only half a second max that we were skin to skin, but the spark shot straight up my arm. Her breath hitched before she stepped back, her mask slamming back into place.
“Fine,” she said, already pivoting away. Then she was gone again, the chaos swallowing her whole, and I was left standing there like someone had just reached into my chest and rewired my whole damn heart.
I did what needed to be done after that… said hi to Harper and Rand, escaped to my cabin for a shower, and ducked into the small cafe for a quick bite to eat while the rest of the wedding party took a tour around the resort.
Around two, I stepped into the ballroom to make sure Sidney had eaten lunch.
The rows of gold Chiavari chairs caught the light from the tall windows.
White velvet tablecloths glowed like new snow under the chandeliers.
Gold chargers sparkled on each table. Sidney moved through it all with the same professional energy she’d had since dawn.
I caught myself helping again. It wasn’t even intentional at first. Someone needed crates hauled from the dock, and I did it without asking.
The banquet crew needed the last of the wine barrels muscled into place, and I was there.
I told myself it was faster than watching them fumble. That was only half a lie.
Sidney spotted me sliding a table into position and frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Helping,” I said as I lifted my shoulders in a shrug.
I didn’t mind, and I’d rather pitch in than sit through a few rounds of icebreakers going on in one of the small conference rooms. Rand said it was so the wedding party could get to know each other better since some of them were childhood friends who hadn’t spent much time around their college roommates yet.
“You’re a groomsman,” she said, shaking her head.
“I’ve still got two hands.” And a heart that seemed to only want to beat for her. I wouldn’t admit it, but it felt like the truth. A truth I’d never recognize because my best friend deserved better than to have me make a play for his baby sister.
“You’re supposed to be getting to know the other groomsmen and bridesmaids.”
“I’d rather do something productive.” I wasn’t good at small talk, and I damn sure wasn’t good at making friends.
She stared at me for a beat, then shook her head like I was a problem she didn’t have time to solve. “Fine. Pull the runner tight, but not too tight. It’ll wrinkle.”
We stretched the gold satin between us, adjusting until it lay smooth as poured cream.
Our shoulders brushed. Neither of us moved.
The chandeliers threw warm light across her hair where it had slipped free of its knot, the fine strands catching the glow.
My fingers twitched to smooth the hair away from her face, but I shoved my hand in my pocket instead.
She stepped back first, her voice quiet. “Good. Thank you.”
It wasn’t much, just three little words, but it made me feel useful in a way I hadn’t for weeks.
The wedding party swept through again around four, laughing on their way to the welcome drinks. The noise echoed off the vaulted ceiling. I leaned against a pillar, watching Sidney check items off her lists with the precision of a surgeon.
“Did you schedule in any time for you to take a break and have fun this weekend?” I asked as she passed.
Her pen didn’t pause. “I’m doing this for the experience, not for fun.”
“Well, you don’t have to do it all alone.” I wasn’t sure why I kept inserting myself when she so clearly didn’t want my help, but that stopped her. Just for a second.
She lifted her gaze to mine. The noise around us faded. “I know,” she said.
Then Harper called her name, and the spell snapped. Sidney turned and vanished with the others, her voice already warm again as she reassured someone about the schedule.
I stood there too long, staring at the space she’d just left like it had changed shape.
The suite was dim when I got back.
Snow brushed against the windows. The fire had burned low, more embers than flame. Sidney’s shoes sat neatly by the door, her tote gaping on the table with papers fanned like fallen cards. The air smelled faintly of pine and warm wax from the ballroom, like the day had followed her back here.
Steam curled from the crack under the bathroom door.
Water hissed faintly behind it. She was humming, soft and off-key, and it hit me harder than it should have.
She didn’t sound like a guest. She didn’t look like someone passing through.
She sounded like she belonged here, like this space had shifted around her and decided she fit.
I poured water from the carafe, swallowed it cold, and stood with my hands braced on the counter until they stopped wanting to shake.
There were a dozen reasons to stay away from her, and every one of them was solid.
Stetson would put me through a wall if he knew what almost happened three years ago. He trusted me with his life. He sure as hell hadn’t trusted me with his little sister. And I had my own exit stamped—job in Anchorage, contract signed, flights half-booked. No roots, no ties. Clean break.
And she deserved better than someone already halfway gone. Someone who wouldn’t turn her life into a layover. Someone who wasn’t built to leave.
But she was here. In my space, in my bed half the nights now, in my head all the damn time. She was building something from scratch and holding it together with sheer grit, and I couldn’t stop watching her do it like she was defying gravity just to prove it could be done.
I told myself I’d come here for Rand. That this wedding was a pit stop, nothing more. That Alaska was the only destination that mattered.
Still, I stood there listening to Sidney Kincaid hum in my shower like she belonged to this place—and maybe to me—and knowing I was already halfway gone.