6. Emmett
EMMETT
“You did what?” Declan growls in a rare display of unfettered shock.
He’s angry, I get it.
But he’s not angry at Leah. He’s angry at the fact that we’re all being put in this situation, thanks to our idiot brother. But anger won’t help fix anything.
“Take it down a notch, Declan,” I say, following up with a lighthearted tease. “Trust me, no matter how much that jawline of yours tightens, it’s not going to change anything. Besides, it’s not Leah’s fault.”
“I know it’s not Leah’s fault,” my older brother snaps at me. “None of this is Leah’s fault. It’s all my fault.”
“Your fault?” I laugh. “Here you go again, trying to be the hero. Do you want a cape?”
Declan growls under his breath at me. Or perhaps at himself.
“I can assure you that I’m not the hero of the story here,” he says. “If anything, I should have put an end to all of Kian’s antics years ago.”
“In your defense, you’ve been a bit too busy trying to cover up all of his failures.” Rowan’s remark is a bit of a double-edged sword.
But it also brings Declan back to reality. The reality is that his anger isn’t going to actually affect any of this now. What’s done is done.
“Trust me,” he says almost as if an afterthought. “If I hadn’t been covering up all of his failures, this family would have come apart at the seams a long time ago.”
While the three of us argue about which brother is most to blame, Leah is still in the middle of all of this, quite literally by no fault of her own.
We are all upset that this is now going to affect Madeline, and obviously worried about any impact that it might have on her pregnancy.
And there is some anger over Leah having broken our agreement and her promise to stick to it.
But that pales in comparison to what Kian has done, and none of those feelings of anger toward her last very long.
I don’t know what it is about Leah, but something about her is quickly crawling under my skin and embedding itself there. And I get the feeling that it’s doing the same with Declan and Rowan too.
“For what it’s worth,” Leah says quietly. “Madeline already knew, or at least she already suspected that he was cheating on her. And even though I shouldn’t have broken my promise, I couldn’t lie to her, not when she already knew.”
That certainly drives the point home. It also makes my blood boil to think of her fucking Kian. That bastard didn’t deserve her. He doesn’t deserve his wife either.
“Then we can all agree Leah did the right thing,” Rowan says, superseding our older brother in the moment, in the calm, quiet way that only he can do so effectively without ever raising his voice.
“Agreed,” Declan nods. “Now the only thing we can do is support you in your new promise to Madeline—to keep the facade going and keep Kian in the dark, so that she can make it through the rest of her pregnancy without a big scandal.”
He glances over toward Rowan, as if seeking confirmation that our brother is still on board. Rowan gives him a single nod.
“Alright then,” I say with a clap of my hands to shift the mood in the room. “Since we’re going to be playing this game for a while longer, with one additional player, we might as well try to make it a little more fun and a little less toxic.”
Both of my brothers raise their eyebrows.
Leah smiles at me. “Fun? I’m not sure how you can make this fun, but I am certainly all ears.”
“Great! We’re going to make the best of this… interesting situation. And since we’ll be spending more time together, let’s make communication easier. Give me your phone.”
She hesitates for a moment, but then hands it over, and I quickly create a group chat between all four of us.
“There,” I say, handing it back to her. “Now, we have a place where we can vent, and maybe even share a few funny memes.”
Rowan rolls his eyes. “This entire situation could be a meme.”
He’s not wrong.
“I think we could all use some rest after tonight,” Declan says as everyone gets ready to go back to their own places.
It’s not lost on me, though, how his eyes linger on Leah for a few extra moments before she leaves. I know that look because I feel it too.
Trying not to think about her is made even harder by the fact that we’re all here in the same building—separate units, but still close enough that I feel like I could hear her sneeze. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. It might just feel that way because I can’t get her out of my head.
After a hot shower and a quick replay of the night’s comically tragic events, I lie down in bed, lift my phone to my face, and open the new group chat.
It doesn’t take me long to think of something funny to say.
I’ve been doing it almost my entire life—ever since our mom died, ever since it became my entire job and practically my identity to keep the rest of our family laughing.
Declan might be able to claim having kept our family from falling apart in the public eye, but I claim keeping it stitched together behind the scenes with one joke after the other.
It’s worked for Declan and Rowan, for the most part.
I’m not so sure about Kian. I’m starting to think he’s a lost cause in more ways than one.
Most families have one member weighing them down; ours has two. The father, who decided not to care anymore, and a brother who used that lack of oversight to his advantage.
“Enough of the emotional baggage,” I groan aloud in my empty bedroom.
My fingers get to work on the text.
Me: I give tonight five stars for plot twists, and zero stars for healthy family dynamics.
A few seconds after I hit send, Rowan reacts with a laugh emoji, and Declan types out an “lol”, but there is no response from Leah at all.
I frown and try again. I was really looking for a response from Leah, not my brothers.
Me: Leah, don’t make me come down there and annoy you in person. Trust me, I’m funnier over text.
Then a message pops up from Leah, in a private thread instead of the group. It calls me out on my self-deprecating humor in a way that no one has ever done before.
Leah: This whole situation has to be hard on you guys too. Are you okay?
I pause with my fingers hovering over the phone. No one has ever asked me if I was okay. I’m expected to lighten the situation, not actually have real feelings. And I’m honestly not even sure how to answer her question.
I let it go, thinking that she’s just being polite and doesn’t actually expect a response. After all, not even my own family has tried to peel back the layers and truly see who the man beneath the humor is, so why would she?
But a few minutes later, when she sends a text nudge, I realize that she’s waiting for an answer.
Leah: Hello?
Me: Define okay. By Oliver family standards, I’m thriving.
After deflecting her concern, Leah doesn’t text again. I try to move on, but I can’t. Her concern stays with me; her authenticity does too.
She’s not like other women. What I’m feeling for her is completely unexpected and, given the situation, unwanted.
She’s my brother’s ex-girlfriend. She’s my other brother’s current fake girlfriend.
She’s pretty much forbidden.
I toss my phone onto the nearby nightstand. I should forget this. I should go to sleep, get some rest.
But I can’t.
For the first time since my mother died, I can’t pretend what I’m feeling doesn’t matter.
She asked me if I was okay, truly caring about my feelings. That matters to me.
I don’t even bother reaching for my phone. I simply get out of bed, leave my penthouse, and get on the elevator. I pause for a split second when I get off on Leah’s floor but then knock on her door anyway.
Part of me is honestly surprised when she opens it. The other part of me is working overtime not to lose my mind seeing her standing in the doorway in her pajama shorts and t-shirt with no bra beneath.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, sorry to just show up on your doorstep, but I—” Shit, I actually didn’t think of anything to say before hopping into the elevator.
This might be the first time that I can’t improvise something on the spot.
“Come on in,” she says, opening the door wider. “Just don’t mind the mess.”
When I step inside, I don’t notice any mess at all. Leah barely has any furniture in here.
“Are you a minimalist or something?” I ask.
“Something like that,” she says with a half-smile. “Plus, I’m just working on saving my money so that I can get my own place as soon as I can afford to.”
She pauses as if wondering whether she wanted to say that at all, then she deflects. “You didn’t answer my question. Well, not really.”
I run my hand through my hair. “That’s why I came down, actually. I just wanted to thank you for asking. And also, to tell you that I’m totally good. Nothing gets under my skin.”
I let out a small chuckle at that last part, because she’s getting under my skin.
“And you came all the way down here to tell me that?”
“It’s not like it was that far. The elevator did most of the work.”
She laughs. “Hang on a sec, there’s something that I’ll give you in return for your house call.” Leah turns and walks down the little hallway toward her bedroom, and I stand there in the doorway, resisting the urge to follow her.
I have no idea what she could be getting. It’s not like she owes me anything for showing up at her door late at night.
While I stand there waiting, I spot something resting on the table near the door—a sketchbook.
My eyes glance down the hall, and since she’s not back yet, I take the liberty of opening the sketchbook to see what’s inside.
To my surprise, it’s completely filled with drawings—good ones.
Most of the sketches have a recurring image of a fox with a bushy tail and contemplative eyes.
“Alright,” Leah says, her voice coming into the hallway before she does. “I think you’ll like this.”
I quickly close the sketchbook and set it back onto the table. I’m curious about it, and whether the drawings inside are hers and what they’re for, but I don’t want her knowing I was snooping around.
“What’s this?” I ask as she walks toward me and places a book in my hands.
As I read the title, I laugh. “A joke book?”
“Yeah, my best friend Delia gave it to me a while ago. She said I need to lighten up, because I’m too stiff.
” She shrugs, but her eyes stay on me. “I figured you might need it more than I do. You came all the way down here to tell me you’re fine, and you still couldn’t get through a conversation without making a joke. ”
“Thank you,” I say, genuinely in awe of her thoughtfulness. “Hang on, are you saying I’m too stiff?”
Leah lets out a giggle, and it instantly makes my smile grow wider.
“I wouldn’t know a thing about you being stiff.
” Her eyes drop to the front of my sweatpants and stop.
Then they snap back up to my face, and her cheeks go red.
“Funny. I meant you’re funny, and I thought you’d like it.
” She’s talking fast now, trying to cover up that she just checked out my cock.
“But just so you know, you can turn the charm off around me. I like you either way.”
I open my mouth, and the joke is right there. Something about how she’s only seen the charm, so she has no idea what she’s signing up for. It would be easy. I would get a laugh.
I don’t say it.
“Nobody’s ever told me that,” I say instead, and my voice comes out lower than I mean it to.
Her eyes don’t leave mine. “Well, now someone has.”
“Thanks for the book. Goodnight, Leah,” I say as I turn to leave.
“Wait,” she says. “Why did you really come down here?”
The truth is I only came down to see her, but I can’t tell her that.
I turn to face her again. “Just to let you know that I’m okay?”
“And now you’re leaving?”
“Yep. Mission accomplished.” The part that I leave out is that if I don’t leave right now, I’m going to kiss her—probably more.
I really, really want to act on it. But I can’t. She’s not mine to kiss.
I turn to leave again, but I glance over my shoulder one more time, wanting to commit the sight of her in her pajamas to memory before the door closes between us.
When I get back upstairs, I drop the joke book on the nightstand and head straight for the shower. A cold one.
It’s supposed to help. It doesn’t. I’m hard before the water’s even on.
I give up and turn it hot and lean my forearm against the tile, and I stop pretending I’m in here for any other reason.
My thoughts start with the vision of her in those pajama shorts, and that thin t-shirt, and the second her eyes dropped to my cock and stayed there before she caught herself and went red.
But then I think about what she said—I like you either way.
That’s what does it. I come with my hand braced on the wall and her name under my breath, and I stand there under the water until it runs cold again.