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“Did you boys get there alright?” Dad asked. I told him about my change of plans last night. He was glad to be able to see me sooner and for a while longer.
“We just got here. Everything went fine,” I said. “When are you joining us?” It wasn’t like I looked forward to the nights of Risk and the Great British Bakeoff that Dad and Eileen loved, but anything was better than the awkwardness I felt around Asher. That awkwardness often simmered for a long time and came to a boil when one said something wrong.
“Ah, that’s just it,” Dad said. “We have a leaking pipe in your and Asher’s bathroom. It’s lucky Eileen caught it. Nobody goes in there anymore. I’m trying to fix it ASAP, but parts of the wall are damp. You know you can’t let your wall get moldy, right?”
I frowned. “Wh-what does that mean?”
“It’s just a delay,” Dad said. “It shouldn’t take us too long to see how far the damage has gone. My team’s coming first thing tomorrow, but we’re stretched thin with Mrs. Woods’ expansion. Don’t let me bore you with the details, Jordan. Just let me know if you boys need anything. Chuck’s driving back and forth twice a week and he can drop off whatever you need.”
I had a car for those things. I didn’t need Dad’s workers to cater to me. “Well, should I just come there, then?”
“I thought about it,” Dad said. “But if the damage has spread through the wall, you might not have a room to sleep in.”
Fuck. “Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”
“Tell Asher that Eileen sends her love,” Dad said. “And we’ll join you as soon as this is over.”
“Right. Okay. Bye, Dad,” I said and hung up.
When I turned back to Asher, his face was struck with horror. “What happened?”
“Your mom sends her love,” I said with a shrug. “In other news, we’re going to stay here on our own for a while longer.”
His nose wrinkled as he sneered. The fucker.
I told him about the pipe and the wall. Then I had to repeat that I didn’t know a million times because he showered me with stupid questions like, “How did nobody see it sooner?” or “How bad is the damage?”
And when he finally ran out of the bathroom-related questions, he looked at me like this was the biggest defeat of his life. “What are we gonna do now?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “We’re not lost in a jungle, Asher. Sleep in. Have cake for breakfast. Watch TV. I dunno.”
But I knew that he wasn’t asking me how to spend his time while we were here. The real question was, how were we going to survive each other for who knows how long? How would we keep from driving each other to the brink of madness?
And how would I keep my walls up and strong against his bare chest and round butt? He had no idea, but he was the greatest weapon against my defenses. He pushed all of my buttons with little more than breathing. And he did that without ever realizing that my pulse never failed to increase when he entered the room.
Maybe that was what I was into. Maybe I was just destined to pine from a distance, never to come nearer.
FIVE
Asher
I wondered whether I should text Beckett. There was little chance Jordan would share any news with me, although I had no clue why he would keep it to himself. But Beckett was probably swamped with messages anyways. I didn’t want to add to his plate.
Caden. I could text Caden. Unless that came across as nosy. Asking about a famous winger via his nephew’s boyfriend was something a paparazzo would have done. I decided not to bother either of them just now.
We quickly hauled our luggage to our separate rooms. I left the balcony door open to air the room out after months of disuse, then came to the kitchen to find something to eat. In the meantime, Jordan had apparently showered. He entered the kitchen with wet hair, a pair of knee-length shorts that revealed his muscular calves, and a loose, sleeveless T-shirt with long oblong cutouts for arms. His ribcage was partially visible when he moved his arms, and the short hair that covered his armpits made me pause and blink. Had he tried being any sexier, he would have failed. Or he would have had to take his clothes off.
I swallowed the knot that appeared in my throat.
The soft dusk glow poured into the house, further subdued by the white curtains covering all the downstairs windows.
“Are you cooking?” Jordan asked. I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to sound relaxed. His vocal cords were tense as hell and his voice came out tight, almost accusatory.
The annoyance that flared in me wasn’t all because of Jordan. But he played a part in it. “No,” I replied stiffly. Perhaps he knew I couldn’t cook if my life depended on it. Perhaps he was intentionally rubbing it in. Nothing surprised me anymore. “It’s just a grilled cheese.” The words tumbled out of my mouth awkwardly and I turned away from him. Couldn’t he have worn something with short sleeves? It was like he knew — God forbid! — and intentionally added another thing I needed to be careful about.
My muscles were in a perpetual state of tension around my stepbrother.
He exhaled in disappointment. Had it been an open wound, Jordan’s sigh would have been rock salt rubbed into it.
