Nate snorts.
Parker turns to look at his best friend. “And you.” He makes a disappointed tsk noise. “As soon as this arm is healed, I’m delivering.”
“Figured as much,” Nate says, grinning.
“Delivering?” I ask.
“I owe him a punch in the face.” Parker smiles and ruffles my hair. “For going after my little sister.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Those are the terms we set forth at age nine, Sweet P.”
“We have to honor the code, little bird.”
Parker and Nate are both grinning as they do some kind of weird handshake back-slap thing.
Boys.
“Take care of her,” Parker says, his expression sobering. “I mean it.”
Nate nods. “I will.”
Parker turns to me. “Love you, kid.”
I roll my eyes. “For the last time, I’m not a kid. If you’re really going to stick around, you have to accept that.”
“I told you I’m sticking around and I’m serious. For now. At least until the company is sorted out.” He looks at me, lips twisted in a grin. “Guess you’re not my baby sister anymore.”
“I’ll always be your baby sister,” I say, eyes watering. “Now go, before I start crying.”
“Don’t I get a hug goodbye?” he asks, offended.
I wrinkle my nose. “When was the last time you showered?”
He chuckles and sweeps me into a bear hug anyway. Well, half a bear hug. But I have a feeling he’ll be back to fighting shape in no time.
***
The house feels quiet, with Parker gone.
Nate and I are in the kitchen. He’s washing the large stack of dishes that have accumulated over the past few days of catering to Parker’s every whim; I’m sitting on the counter with my legs swinging, staring unabashedly at his butt.
What? Don’t judge me. It’s a good butt.
And it’s all mine.
“Did you mean it?” I ask suddenly, making him turn to face me.
“Mean what?”
I tilt my head. “About moving in. Did you mean, like, until Parker gets a place? Or were you talking about something a little more…” I trail off, blushing. “Never mind. It doesn’t really matter.”
He pulls his hands out of the water and crosses toward me. His fingers are soapy and wet when they slide around my neck.
“I’m moving in.” His lips brush my forehead. “I’m moving in, and I’m staying.” His mouth hits my temple, where the bruises are finally almost faded away. In another few days, they’ll be totally gone. “I want my clothes in your closet next to your unreasonably large shoe collection; my razors in your shower next to that damn body wash of yours that smells so good; my beer in your fridge next to that seltzer you’re always sucking down.” A kiss lands on the tip of my nose. “I want you. Every day. Every minute. Forever.” His lips hover over mine. “I told you before, little bird. The second I met you, I was in it for life. For years, I tried to fight it. Told myself to walk away, that you were better off without me. But the thing is, I can’t live without you. Don’t want to. Not anymore. Not ever again.”
I suck in a breath, fighting tears. “Are you going to kiss me, or are you going to talk me to death?”
He’s grinning as his lips land hard on mine.
The End
Acknowledgements
Thank you.
Two little words.
They seem painfully inadequate to describe the depth of my gratitude to my readers who, against all odds, have stuck with me on this amazing journey. I’m a little bit in love with each and every one of you, and I doubt you’ll ever know how much your support means to me.
One of my favorite quotes about writing comes from John Cheever. He said, “I can't write without a reader. It's precisely like a kiss - you can't do it alone."
And he’s right.