“The fuck you did.”
“I absolutely did. I can’t just tell her how remarkable you are, or what a great brother you’ve been to me. The way you’ve always had my back and watched out for me. How you read me to sleep every night when I had pneumonia and toted me around when I broke my leg playing football.” His expression sobers, the lines around his eyes more pronounced. “Your ability to bypass your own fears and make sure you’re there for Mom. Even when I can’t be,” he admits. “I had to give her the full picture.”
Any irritation I had dissipates. I wrap an arm around his shoulder, smiling pretty fucking wide and gesturing toward the back. “Let’s go. She’s been alone too long. Who knows what kinds of assholes are lurking.”
By the time we weave through the crowd, Ember is on her way out to dance with some guy—a broad shouldered, blond dude with a smile that’s way too fucking big. Of course he’s happy. He’s about to dance with the prettiest girl here. That lump returns, slowly rising up my throat. I swear if he touches her, I’ll pummel his ass.
Julian leaves to get me a beer while I keep my eye on Ember. She doesn’t know I’m here yet, giving me an opportunity to sit back and watch. Her arms surround this dude’s neck and as of right now, his arms are around her waist—where they better stay.
“Hey, I got you a Corona.” Julian sets the beer in front of me and I take a long pull, hoping to wash down this strange discomfort. “Is that steam I see coming out of your ears?” He grins, clicking his bottle against mine. “Cheers.” He rests his back against the wall, arm draped over the top of the booth. “This is… different for you. I’m kind of liking it. It’s about time you let someone in.”
I balk. “I haven’t let anyone in.”
“I beg to differ on that.” He lifts his wrist and glances at his watch. “It only took you two point five hours to show up.” He sips his beer then circles the bottle in the air. “Seriously, Vance. She’s a great girl.”
My eyes seek her out and I tug on my earring. “I know that. But… I also know I’m not good for her and nothing can happen.” I flash to Julian’s face, a blank slate, as if what I’m about to say is rote. “She’ll end up with a broken heart.”
“You don’t know that. And you can’t keep living your life like this. No one can predict the future. Besides, right now,” he lifts his head toward the dance floor, “you could be the one dancing with her instead of that asshole. It’s one dance.” He emphasizes. “What harm could it do?”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
I think about it for maybe ten seconds before I submit. “Shit. Okay, one dance,” I agree, and his lips slide into a grin.
“God, I’m good.” He gloats as I stalk off, barreling my way through the crowd.
I know how stupid this is. I keep telling myself this as I dodge drinks being spilled over the rims of glasses, hands slapping together in a series of drunken high-fives. This. Is. Stupid. The words continue to rattle around in my brain until I spot Ember. Her mouth drops open in surprise when her eyes land on me, cheeks lifting in a smile that encompasses her whole face. How could anything about that be stupid?
“Can I cut in, Mickey?”
“Mickey?” The blond guy’s way-too-thick eyebrows edge higher as he steps back. “I thought your name was Ember.”
“Private joke,” I mutter and he sneers, his beady eyes flicking between us.
“Whatever,” he mumbles as he wanders off, and Ember cracks up. My eyes scroll to the Mickey Mouse emblem at the bottom of her t-shirt.
“Not the sharpest tool in the shed, is he?”
“Nope.” She places her hands on her narrow hips and stares me down. It makes me want to break into a laugh because she’s trying hard not to smile—almost too hard. Her stance and expression are at complete odds with one another. “What are you doing here, Davenport?”
“I was in the neighborhood.” I hold out my hand and she doesn’t hesitate, curling her fingers around mine. “Now let’s dance.”
She loops her arms around my neck and mine settle around her waist. I breathe in her peach scent and something that is uniquely Ember, while her green eyes examine my face as if she’s searching for evidence. Of what, I don’t know. But if anyone can find it, it’s definitely her. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
“I don’t… usually,” I add, my lips twisting into a grin.
“Wow. I feel special.”
“That’s because you are.” The words slip out, but the way her eyes light up leave me without an ounce of regret.
She draws back further, scrutinizing me. Her gaze is unwavering and the hairs on my arms prickle. I know she can see me and it scares me to death. I swallow, trying to calm the fear rolling around my stomach and hoping to keep it at bay—if only for a little while.
Her gorgeous eyes narrow into fine slits. “What are you up to?”
“You ask too many damn questions, Mickey.”