Chapter 3
THREE
The stairs creak loudly despite my attempt to tread down them quietly, but they’re old, making it impossible. The house is beautiful. Old, yes, but well-maintained, exuding a rustic charm. From what I saw, it’s sparsely decorated but clean.
Homey. I like it.
When I finally reach the ground floor, I hastily gather my wild hair into a messy bun, feeling a surge of confidence about sneaking out unnoticed. But just as I’m about to make my escape, a deep voice halts me in my tracks. “Good morning.”
I turn toward the source of the voice on my right, revealing a spacious modern kitchen with a dark wood dining table in its center.
Seated at the table is a small boy, maybe five or six, looking at me shyly, but the voice came from the man standing behind the boy, his large hands resting on the back of the child’s chair.
He’s at least six foot three, a big guy with a hint of muscles beneath a layer of softness.
He has to be around my age, but it’s hard to say with his bushy beard and his brown hair in a tousled mess on his head.
He has beautiful, kind eyes and smiles at me, his expression tinged with amusement.
“Do you want some coffee before you go? You look like you had a rough night.”
I blush, my gaze involuntarily dropping to the pink apron he’s wearing. Despite my embarrassment, I can’t help but find it comical that this bear of a man is wearing something so… pink.
Nervously, I wring my hands, offering an apology, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he had a partner. If it helps, we were both pretty drunk last night.”
I curse my hookup under my breath for dragging me into his relationship drama. The guy’s smirk disappears, and he just stares at me, mouth agape.
What did I say?
Just as I’m about to apologize once more and make a quick escape, a deep chuckle emanates from the entrance to the kitchen on the right.
Another man steps in, equally as tall but much leaner, with stubble as brown as his wavy, neatly styled hair.
He’s dressed in dark dress pants and a light blue shirt and begins rolling up his sleeves.
Are there only male models living in this house?
“You can’t blame her for assuming that, brother. You look like a cute little domesticated housewife in that thing,” the newcomer says, nodding toward the pink apron.
The first guy recovers from his initial shock and scowls at him, yanking off the apron. He flips him off, still clutching it in his fist, and I have to bite my lips not to laugh at his expression.
“You know it was the only color they had. You were there.” He snarls at him.
“True, but you could have just not bought it,” the other one shrugs dismissively.
Since the one who looks like a businessman initially referred to the first as ‘brother,’ I study them more closely.
It’s then that I notice what I hadn’t before.
They share similar features—handsome faces, brown hair, and those captivating ocean blue eyes, just like the guy from last night.
Even the little blonde boy at the table has those same blue eyes.
He must be the son of one of them, and I find myself hoping he’s not the kid from the guy from the bar, or at least that there isn’t a wife in the picture.
I’ve already had my fill of awkward encounters for one day. Thank you very much.
“Anyway…” I start, my voice hesitant, “… it was nice meeting you guys, but I don’t think…” Suddenly, a chill runs down my neck, and I sense another presence in the room. Swiftly scanning the area, my eyes land on a woman standing behind Business Guy.
She’s wearing a white nightgown, drenched from head to toe, and looks pale, her wet blonde hair clinging to her face. Her wrists have been cut, and the soaked nightgown is drenched in blood from her thighs down. When our eyes meet, she tries to speak, but only water spills from her lips.
Apron Guy chuckles. “Nash. His name is Nash.”
I blink, pulling my attention back to the living. “Huh, really? Well, I don’t think Nash would appreciate me crashing this family gathering, so I’ll see myself out. Have a nice life,” I say with an awkward wave, turning on my heel and heading for the exit, their chuckles following me as I leave.
As I shut the front door and lean against it, I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
I can’t believe the awkward situations I always seem to find myself in.
When I open my eyes again, ready to leave, I spot a really cute guy seated on the porch bench.
He glances up at me, grinning, dimples deepening, and I meet those same ocean blue eyes I’ve already seen too many times today.
However, he looks a lot younger than the rest of them, with wavy, brown hair framing his face.
I would say he’s in his early to mid-twenties, but there’s something strange about him.
In my experience, ghosts look like real people.
When they realize they are dead and have accepted it, they look as they did in life.
But if they die traumatically or are in denial about their death, they can get stuck in their last moments and appear more like someone in a horror movie, much like the drowned woman I just saw in the house.
However, I’ve never seen a ghost that resembles a hologram or the translucent ghosts you see in movies. But the guy next to me seems to be only partially visible. I can see the bench beneath him.
What the...
“Hi.” He grins at me, making his dimples stand out even more.
I’m so taken aback that I can only stare at him, and before I can blink, he just vanishes.
A twinge of something like disappointment surges through me as I watch the beautiful blonde leave my house. It’s a new feeling that lingers in the pit of my stomach, a mix of loss and something I can’t quite place. But North doesn’t let me dwell on it. He brings me back to reality in an instant.
“Is there coffee yet?” he asks, his voice drawing me away from the doorway. I glance at him as he sits at the table, noting the dark circles that have taken up permanent residence under his eyes. They’re more pronounced today, as if he hasn’t slept in days.
Not that that’s anything new.
“Maybe if you’d stop working all hours, stop bringing the work home, and catch some sleep for a change, you wouldn’t be so dependent on caffeine,” I retort, half-serious, half-joking, but I’m already moving toward the coffee machine.
I top it up with fresh beans, the scent of coffee filling the kitchen and grounding me.
As the beans pour in, I can’t help feeling like the housewife North joked that I was. In front of her, no less.
Fuck.
He ought to be grateful for all I do—managing the house, cooking, and, most critically, looking after his son. But gratitude isn’t North’s style. He’s more the type to bulldoze through life, treating everyone with the same brisk indifference.
At least for the last seven years.
And yet, despite the gruff exterior and the lack of thank yous, I continue, because this is what I chose to do. In the end, the satisfaction of a well-run household and love for my nephew outweigh any need for recognition.
And I own that debt.
Even so, as I press the button on the coffee machine, the soft whir of it coming to life doesn’t quite mask the echo of her voice lingering in my mind, stirring up feelings I’m not ready to name. Get a grip, Hunter.
As I place the cup of coffee in front of North and sit down too, Nash strides into the kitchen with his usual swagger, the morning light coming through the window and catching the tousled edges of his hair.
A trace of stubble on his jaw gives him a carefree, rugged look that he seems blissfully unaware of. But it’s his grin that rubs me wrong.
“Have any of you seen my houseguest? Maybe about five-foot-seven, perfect curves, long blonde hair, hazel eyes, a smile to die for, and—” he begins with a booming voice too loud for the hour.
“Way too good for you?” I cut in before he can finish, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.
He just laughs, flashing a smile that has charmed many, and takes a seat next to Lio, completely disrupting the boy’s carefully brushed hair with a playful ruffle.
I can’t help but grimace. “She left just a few minutes ago,” I inform him, a tinge of frustration in my tone.
“Lio, head to your room, please. I’ll be there in a minute,” I gently instruct, and he nods obediently, but as he stands, a small cough escapes him as he makes his way down the hallway to his room.
It’s getting worse.
“Hey, I’m quite the catch myself,” Nash retorts with a cocky tilt of his head, helping himself to the eggs and bacon I just made.
“You didn’t even tell her your name,” I point out, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest.
Beneath me, the chair creaks a subtle complaint, reminding me of yet another thing that needs fixing in this house. Or maybe it’s a nudge for me to lay off the late-night snacks. But let’s be real—tightening a few screws is the easier fix by far.
“Did she want to know it this morning? Because she sure didn’t last night,” Nash quips, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he takes a bite of his eggs.
He continues, speaking with his mouth full and pointing his fork in my direction, “And for the record, she didn’t want to tell me hers either. ”
I huff in response. “Well, she left. Wished us a good life.”
“But first, she did assume that Hunt is your little wife,” North interjects with a snicker.
He pushes his chair back and stands, retrieving his blazer draped over the chair’s back.
“She even apologized for your cheating ass,” he remarks and leans over, grabbing his coffee and downing it like a shot.
“I’ve got to head out. Catch you later,” he shares, making his way toward the exit, not even thinking about saying goodbye to Lio.
It’s Sunday, for fuck’s sake. But no, he can’t be bothered to take a day off and spend it with his family.
“Shame, I would have loved to take another spin on that ride. I tell you, Hunt, that was premium pussy,” Nash mumbles, nodding to himself, and I slap him on the back of the head. “Ouch! The fuck?”
Having him talk about her like that makes me unreasonably angry. “How often do I have to tell you that we treat women with respect, you damn horn dog.”
“Oh, I respected the shit out of her. Made her come twice before I did and ate her out like a good boy.”
I puff out a breath in frustration. He’s such a fucking child.
This behavior is nothing new, and under normal circumstances, I would just shrug it off. After all, his hookups are typically just that—hookup material.
But she wasn’t. I only saw her for two seconds, and I could already tell. She’s cute and quick-witted, with a conscience, unlike the babbling dumbbells Nash normally brings home.
She’s my type of girl, not his.
I quickly shake that thought out of my head, reminding myself that she did jump into bed with him, which suggests she has at least a soft spot for handsome playboys.
It’s a category I feel miles away from now.
Nash and I could easily be mistaken for twins despite him being my younger brother. He’s the spitting image of who I used to be before everything went to shit. Before I went from the fit, handsome guy that Nash is to whatever version of myself I’ve become now.
I let out a sigh. It’s a heavy thought, one that has been my shadow for longer than I care to admit. I’ve changed, not just on the outside but inside too. There’s a bitterness, a weariness that wasn’t there before, and it clings to me, tainting everything I touch.
Nash, with his carefree laugh and easy charm, is a reminder of a past self I can’t return to. He moves through life with a grace I’ve lost, drawing people to him like moths to a flame.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the cloud of self-pity.
Focus on what you can control.
A mantra that’s become all too familiar.
I’ve got to stop comparing myself to who I was. I’m not that guy anymore, and that’s not a bad thing.
I had to rebuild myself from the ground up. I had to face the mirror every morning and not recognize the person staring back. So a girl Nash brought home, who I saw for a fleeting moment, shouldn’t faze me this much.
Plus, she told us to have a nice life. That doesn’t exactly scream intentions of staying around.
Why am I even thinking about that?
Once Nash finishes breakfast, he takes his dirty dishes to the dishwasher.
At least I beat those types of manners into him.
“Thanks, bro, see you later,” he calls out as he heads out of the kitchen.
“We’re going out for dinner tonight. Don’t forget,” I remind him, but he’s already disappeared from the room.