Page 15 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

Julie's departure still stings, leaving behind unresolved questions and lingering doubts about my ability to connect with others.

Lost in thought, I catch myself tracing the outline of Lucy's fur with my fingertips, marveling at the softness of her coat. She stirs slightly at my touch, her tail wagging in response, and I can't help but smile at the sight.

In this quiet moment, surrounded by the comforting presence of Hannah and Lucy, I feel a sense of peace wash over me.

The passing couple of hours are sweet. It feels good to spend time with a woman I have no sexual relationship with.

Besides my mom, obviously, I do spend time with her.

Hannah feels familiar, too, like banana bread you only get on holidays when, the moment you bite into it, you remember the tire swing in your back yard.

Hannah tells me about the ins and outs of her job, including the needy Tom who emails her far too much for her discounted rate, in her opinion.

She has an easy way about her when she talks about work and then a somewhat less easy way when she talks about herself.

I like the confident Hannah, the one who knows her worth, whose shoulders fly back when she tells me about the work she puts in to make this business successful.

She seems less confident about herself as a person – or as a woman.

I sit in the chair, eating some string cheese she handed me so that I didn’t have to get up and wake Lucy. My legs are falling asleep under the big dog’s body, and every once in a while I stretch out my feet, spinning my ankles in circles.

I’m facing Hannah, away from the door, while she types away on her little laptop.

I study her delicate profile, the curve of her ear kissing the slope of her neck. I note the small smattering of freckles against her jaw line and wonder what it would feel like to press my lips to each one, to trace the path they make.

“…so basically, because of that reallocation, he’ll be able to retire ten years earlier and spend the rest of his years on a houseboat with his wife,” Hannah brags, her smile wide.

She throws herself back against her desk chair, rocking back and forth, and clasps her hands together behind her head.

“That’s incredible,” I tell her, stroking her ego, watching her smile spread even wider under my words.

“It was pretty simple. He had everythingng already in front of him. He just needed someone to show him how to do it.”

Her chest is puffed, her shoulders back. Her voice is thick with pride.

“When did you know this is what you wanted to do with your life?” I ask her, looking over her shoulder at the documents she feels comfortable showing me, that don’t have any identifying information. Lucy’s ear is warm in my hand, and I have a feeling that I belong right here.

Shrugging, she says shyly, “I guess I can’t really say when Iknew,but I’ve always been good with numbers. I used to balance my mom’s checkbook.”

“That’s a lot for little Hannah,” I tell her, suddenly feeling protective over her as a child.

I want to scoop her up, pluck her out of her childhood, and make it so that she never has to worry about adult problems again. I wonder who she would be instead, what she would be doing instead. Her body language shows her walling herself up.

Worrying that I touched on something too much to acknowledge, I reach out and touch her knee.

When she turns back to her laptop in silent response, I lap up the string cheese with just my tongue and tell her, “You’reincredible.”

I see the color creep up her neck and into her face and she pretends not to hear me.

For a moment, I consider repeating it and forcing her to acknowledge the truth about herself, but instead I just look ather concentration face, at the slight pursing of her lips, almost a pout, and the way her eyebrows disappear under her bangs.

Her hair shines in the sun like a penny on the sidewalk, and I can practically feel the warmth of the top of her head just looking at it. My hand aches to reach out and stroke it.

What is going on with me? Youcannothave a crush on little Hannah Jackson.

Even if I did, I’m not sure I could allow myself to open up to Hannah, to let go of the past and embrace the possibility of something new. The fear of rejection claws at my chest, threatening to suffocate the fragile hope blooming within me.I sit on my hands and look around.

“So, what have you got in that kitchen?”

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