Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
MATT
“ Y ou know I don’t like when you pick me up in that,” Daphne complains when she sees the shop van at the back of the school’s parking lot. Her nose scrunches up. “It makes the road too bumpy.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “But I was stuck in the rain all day and didn’t have time to run home to get my truck.”
She halts, frowning. “Why couldn’t you get out of the rain?”
“What? No, I did.”
Head tilted, she scrutinizes me in only the way she can. “You said you were stuck all day.”
Oh . I chuckle. That brain of hers. “No, I meant because it rained so hard. I was at the market in Brookhaven, and I had to wait at Rosie’s café until it stopped.”
Her brow lifts slightly. “That’s why you smell weird.”
What? I give my shoulder a quick sniff. Okay, yeah. I stink like a wet dog.
“I didn’t realize I smelled that bad,” I say, rubbing her back the way she likes.
She wrinkles her nose again. “It’s not that bad. But next time, could you please shower before you come get me? Now I have to sit next to you in the bumpy van while you smell like soggy cardboard.”
Amusement courses through me. “I’ll do my best to avoid every single raindrop. How was school today?”
“You can’t avoid raindrops,” she states, ignoring my question. “You’re too big and there are too many. Maybe don’t go outside next time.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I say with a laugh. “You didn’t tell me how school was, though.”
She groans, flipping her backpack over her shoulder. “Not so fun. We did a lot of math, and I hate math. I need help with my homework.”
“Math, huh?” I tap a finger against my chin. “I think I remember how to add and subtract. Maybe even multiply, if you’re lucky.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know you can do all those things. You do math every day at the store.”
Busted. But I love teasing her. “You’re getting me confused with Uncle James, honey.” I wink. “He’s the math wizard.”
“If I have to be stuck with you when you stink in your bumpy van for the next thirty minutes,” she says, her tone brooking no argument, “you can help me with my homework later.”
“Deal,” I say, surrendering as we stride across the parking lot. “But only if you promise to stop telling me I stink.”
“Fine. But you have to take a shower when we get home.”
“It’s a deal.”
As I slip her backpack from her shoulders, Zoey pushes the passenger door open and steps out.
“Before you hop in my bumpy van,” I hedge, “I need to tell you something.”
“Did you get photos from Mom and Dad’s vacation? Did Dad text you about the flower species he saw?”
I shake my head. Our parents have barely checked in all week. Though last weekend, Dad sent Daphne a photo of several tropical flowers he found. She’s been obsessing over them ever since. “No, it’s not about Mom and Dad. I brought a friend with me to pick you up today.”
Her brows crunch in an adorable frown. “Who? Lola?”
“No, not Lola. Her name is Zoey. That’s her.” I point in her direction, and she waves. “She dropped pastries off for us the other day, remember? You told her you didn’t like her shoes.”
“Yes, I remember,” Daph nods.
“She gave me a hand at the market today and is helping me out with the store. She’s very nice,” I add, my heart pounding. “And I believe she’s good at math.”
By the time the rain cleared, I had no choice but to bring Zoey along with me to pick up Daphne. It should have made me pause, but asking her felt terrifyingly natural. No churn in my stomach. No tension building in my chest like it always does when I introduce people to my sister.
Truth is, I didn’t want to leave Zoey’s side. Not after we’d poured our hearts out. I could have spent the whole evening talking to her. Or kissing her.
Fuck, that kiss.
My mind will forever recall The Day I Kissed Zoey Delacroix. Kind of like those pivotal events where, decades later, you still remember exactly what happened. A before and an after. A turning point where once you’ve tipped over to the other side, nothing can ever be the same again.
Kissing Zoey felt like that.
A defining moment in my life.
A permanent mark on my timeline.
I didn’t want it to end.
I suppose I could have asked Rosie to take her home when she was done, but I didn’t give that option a second’s consideration.
For one, I didn’t want to repeat my movie-night blunder.
But mostly because I wanted her with me. Needed her with me. I can’t explain it. I don’t understand the feeling myself, but it’s too real to deny any longer.
So if we’re going to do this right, she needs to meet my sister. We don’t have to rush it. A small, no-pressure evening, just the three of us, feels like the perfect place to start.
“Okay,” Daphne says. “Is she staying for dinner?”
My throat grows tight. “Only if you want her to.”
“I don’t mind.” She shrugs. “Can I show her my flower encyclopedia?”
“You’ll have to ask her, but I’m sure she’d be interested.” With a deep breath, I close the space between us and Zoey.
“Hey, Daphne,” Zoey says with a small wave. “Did you have a good day?”
My sister studies her, brows furrowed, attention catching on Zoey’s damp hair. “Yes. Did you get wet too? Do you smell as bad as my brother?”
Whoa, why am I getting thrown under the bus like that?
Zoey’s eyes widen for a second, though she replies quickly. “I did, yes. I think Matt smells worse than me, though, so maybe we should sit in the back together to avoid him.”
Daphne giggles. “That would be better, yes.”
Damn. It’s gonna take my heart a minute to settle every time these two interact. Zoey has an ease I cannot put into words. She just… goes along with whatever my sister says. No overreaction, no outrage or frustration. Daph’s comments glide over her as if she’s stated she loves her perfume.
A warm flutter fills my chest. I’m not used to not having to fight for Daphne.
I grasp the handle of the sliding door and roll my eyes, though I can’t help but chuckle. “Okay. Get in before it starts raining again.”
Daph clambers into the van, but Zoey hesitates, smiling at me.
“You too.” I nod at the open doorway.
“My shoes are ugly and now I smell?” she asks in a teasing whisper. “I’m not optimistic that I’ll win your sister over.”
I squeeze her hand. “Trust me, you’re rocking it. She wouldn’t have chosen to sit in the back with you if she wasn’t comfortable.”
Zoey gives a playful sniff in my direction. “Or you smell terrible.”
Grinning, she slips into the back seat.
Bringing a woman home after the Andie nonsense, especially while Daphne is under the same roof, turns out to be more anxiety-inducing than I anticipated.
As soon as I slide the key in the door, my limbs freeze and my throat becomes as narrow as a straw.
Will Zoey care that the TV’s on for the next hour?
Daph’s favorite show is coming up, and there’s no way I’m turning it off.
And what if Daph gets uncomfortable because Zoey chews with her mouth open?
What if she has a meltdown because Zoey uses her heavy blanket on the couch or sits in the spot she’s claimed for herself?
Maybe I should have gone over Daphne’s main triggers before—
“Are we…. going in?” Daphne asks.
“Y-yes.” I clear my throat, giving her a tight smile. “Yes, sorry. Go on.”
I unlock the door, and Daphne darts inside, throwing her backpack on the bottom step and running up the stairs to her room. Before I can turn to Zoey, she interlaces her fingers with mine. “You okay?”
I nod. “I think so.”
“Thank you for letting me into this part of your life. I know it’s a big deal.” She smiles, warm and soft. The combination is deadly for my heart, but her words ease my anxious thoughts.
“Come on in.” I move out of the way, and as she passes me, I spot the state of the kitchen.
Fuck.
The counters are littered with bowls. A cereal box lies on its side, its contents splattered on the floor. Daph’s schoolbooks are stacked beside her hairbrush and the pajamas she left behind this morning. And the sink is full of plates from the last few dinners.
I move around her and use my foot to nudge the cereal into a small pile before she can step in it.
“It’s a bit messy. I’m sorry.” I swipe two bowls up and send them clattering into the sink with the rest of the plates. “I haven’t had time to clean this week.”
Zoey puts her hand on my wrist, stopping me before I can go for another armload of dishes. “Matt, it’s fine. I don’t care.”
I come to a halt, studying her face. “You don’t?”
“No,” she says, chuckling. “You think I expected you to be a neat freak? Please, I saw your office.”
“My office is old , not dirty.”
She pats my arm. “Whatever you want to call it.” Her teasing smirk falls quickly. “I know you work all day, then come home and spend the evening taking care of your sister. It’s a lot. Give yourself some grace, yeah?”
She scans the kitchen and the living room, where the sofa is buried under a mound of blankets and pillows.
“Daphne loves movie nights,” I explain.
“I would too if I was bundled up in all these blankets.”
Her words conjure images of the two of us curled up beneath them on an ordinary weeknight, her snug against me.
I exhale, pushing the thought aside.
She continues her curious exploration, and I follow behind her like a puppy, eager to know if she likes what she sees. If she likes me.
I want to know what’s going through her mind as she gets a glimpse into my life.
What makes her chuckle when she picks up the photo of Daph and me dressed as Tarzan and Turk on Halloween five years ago, or why she bites her lip to stifle a laugh when she sees my collection of random rooster memorabilia.
“I didn’t peg you for a cock guy,” Zoey says, examining a rooster-themed candle.
“I’m not. This is very much a joke between Lola and Charlee.”
She turns to me, one brow arched.
I tip my face to the ceiling with a sigh. “When I was young, there was a lost rooster in our garden. I begged my mother to adopt it, but she refused because of her monstrosity.”
“Her what?”