“How’s my favorite sister doing?” I hear a smile in his voice.
“I’m your only sister. And I’m doing great,” I answer as I stop chewing. I loathe open-mouthed chewers and try to extend the same courtesy to people around me.
“You’re not scared to stay there by yourself, are you? Because I can come and stay with you for a couple of days.” I hear the metallic rustle of keys, and I’m almost positive he’s halfway out of the house to start the truck.
“No, please don’t.” I groan. “I’m fine, I promise. In fact, I’m very proud of you.”
There’s a pause as he stops walking. “For what?” He sounds confused.
“For waiting a whole day to call me.”Duh.
I can hear Kayla chuckling, and Justin clears his throat. “Yeah, well, that’s me, the best brother.”
Kayla guffaws.
I can’t help but chuckle. “She stopped you from pestering me, didn’t she?”
“Maybe,” he answers sheepishly.
“Thank you, Kayla!” I call louder so she can hear.
“No problem!” she shouts back.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again. There’s a hidden meaning behind his words.
I take a deep breath before offering a response. I want to make sure I believe it myself before I sell it to anyone else. “Yeah, I’m good, Jus. Really good.”
“Okay.” I hear him drop the keys. “Promise you’ll call me when you need me?”
“Of course I will.” I nod, even though I know he can’t see me.
“Okay, good. Love you, little sister.”
“Love you, big brother. Now go chill with your woman and stop worrying about me,” I say and hang up the phone. Knowing him, he’d start looking for an excuse to stay over and guard me.
No can do—if he asked too many questions, I’d let the story about the fire slip at some point, and all hell would break loose. He’d be here in a minute, throwing all my stuff into his truck.
I throw the dishes in the sink, trying hard to overcome the urge to not wash them immediately. I’m so used to trying to have control anywhere I can. It’s a loud shout-out—and a fuck you—to the night I lost control over my life. Even small things like washing dishes make me feel like I have a grip on my life and what’s happening in it.
But the dirty plate keeps bothering me, looking at me from the sink with judgment on its perfectly dirty surface. I take a deep breath and decide to take a shower just so I can break this soul-draining eye contact. Letting control slip here and there might be another thing missing in my perfectly routine life.
Instead of a shower, I fill the bathtub with hot water and not one but two bath bombs. I’m spoiling myself rotten today.
In a house like this, I honestly expected an old-fashioned clawed tub, but in reality, it has an average tub that can barely contain my long frame. It works for me either way. A tub is a tub. I sink my tired body into the water and decide to spend a few minutes by myself, without scrolling through social media or reading a book. Just me and my thoughts. A scary place sometimes, if I’m honest.
I lean back and close my eyes, hoping to get a moment of peace. But instead, I get a mental visit from my neighbor. His broad chest pops into my mind and doesn’t leave. I open my eyes and vigorously shake my head, but the image of his naked torso doesn’t go away. I shake my head some more, but it’s still there.
I groan in annoyance and bump my head on the back of the tub.Why? Why are you in my head?His wide, beautiful chest, covered in dark hair… I hate hairy men. I can’t stand them. The characters in my books are always hairless with perfect, smooth chests, and yet this one particular—this… yeti can’t get out of my mind.
His arms are the size of thick, old trees. Probably even bigger than Alex’s. When I was a teenager, of course I had a crush on my brother’s best friend. It’s a given, duh. A right of passage of sorts. Because of this, I’ve observed Alex’s body many, many times throughout the years. Of course, I’d overgrown this stage by the time he left to serve, but still, in my sensitive mind, Alex was a hero. Plus, he’s really huge. Like tank-size large. Always has been. So maybe it’s why I’m comparing my new neighbor to him. Because I seriously think this guy’s arms are bigger. And hairier. That’s for sure. And surprisingly, I find it hot. His pectorals are so pronounced, and his dark pink nipples…How on earth do I even remember the color of his nipples when my house was on fire? How did I even focus on them?My fingers itch to touch them, to see if they’re as smooth as they seem. Or maybe he has other smooth parts? Now I’m itching to know.
My thighs slap shut on their own accord, water splashing everywhere with the movement. Embarrassment creeps up my cheeks. A weird feeling between my legs makes me squirm, and I move around some more, trying to get rid of it. It’s a feeling I lost so long ago, I don’t even remember what it is.
Why, universe? Why now?
I groan and submerge myself into the water, attempting to keep myself there as long as possible, long enough for my lungs to start burning and my brain to become busy with other thoughts—anything other than imagining the hot man next door barreling right in here, asking if he needs to put out another fire. Yeah, I’m not sure I’ll be able to escape those thoughts.
I rise above the surface and breathe the air in. My lungs do in fact burn as planned, but my brain is still hung up on my night visitor.
