Page 4 of Loving My Brother's Best Friend

Jason's smile turns cruel as he eyes Ethan. "Are you gonna introduce me?"

"Sure," I say, and it's a struggle not to addassholeat the end. "Ethan Hayes, meet Jason Reed."

"A friend?" Ethan's guard is already up.

"Ex-boyfriend," I say because I don't want to lie, even though the last thing I want to do is put a label on my relationship with Jason. I broke up with him over a month ago when he became obsessively controlling, but he still isn’t taking the hint.

"Natalie," Jason chides, "are you really going to say that? We're just on a break, baby."

My skin crawls at that. "Like hell we are."

He's not having it. He opens his car door and gets out. "We're having this discussion, Nat."

"Ha. Like hell we are," I repeat, starting to back away from him.

Jason closes in on me, his hands held out like I'm a wild animal that needs to be calmed. "We can be together, babe. I'll take care of you like you want, and you can finally see that I'm the right man for you. Your friends, your brother ... they don't get it. I do, and I always will. We're meant to be together. All I need is another chance to prove it to you. Let me help you see reason. Please, Natalie?"

"Are you fucking crazy?" I snarl at him. "Get the fuck away from me."

Ethan has my wrist in his hand before Jason can react. "That's enough," Ethan says, his voice deadly and cold. "Leave now before I make you leave."

"Who are you to get between me and my girl?"

"Your girl," Ethan laughs. "Buddy, she is my girl. I've known her longer than you can even imagine. I know her favorite food, her favorite band. Hell, I know she's allergic to penicillin and that she's afraid of snakes. Now fuck off."

I'm stunned. I look up at Ethan like I've never seen him before, and it's like Jason isn't even here. "You remember all of that?"

He shoots me a warm glance, then turns back to Jason. "Have you fucked off yet?"

Jason, in the face of whatever is passing between me and Ethan, turns and leaves, but not before gracing us with a series of curses. I couldn't care less. Not with what is happening between me and my brother's best friend right now.

I've been in love with this man since forever, and I can't believe he remembers all the small, personal things about me, just as I've been secretly cataloging the things about him in my mind. The way he smirks, his intense, stormy eyes, that he prefers yakisoba to sushi. I even remember his first Xbox username. And it looks like he's been holding a candle for me, and my heart squeezes with hope.

I lean into him, wrapping my hands around his strong bicep. "Wow."

Ethan glances down at me. "You good?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. You were … amazing." I clear my throat before I start crying. "Want to come inside for coffee?"

"I thought you’d never ask." Ethan looks down at me, affection written all over his handsome face. "Come on. Let's go."

* * *

My apartment isn'tanything to write home about. I have to keep things small with most of the finances having gone to opening the bookstore, but it's neat, tidy, and mine. Houseplants fill every available corner, and I'm grateful I cleaned a few days ago. The couch is small but comfortable, and there are piles of books everywhere. Ethan seems fascinated by it, his gaze warm, his eyes bright.

"It's like a peek inside your odd little mind," he teases, looking around.

I shoot him a look. "Whatever. It's clean."

"No, I like it. It suits you. It's very..."

"Cozy?" I offer, and he grins, his teeth bright and even.

"Yeah, that."

I like the way he says it, and I like that he's in my apartment. He's so big and broad that he seems to take up a lot of space even when he isn't doing anything. He's just looking at me, a slow, crooked smile pulling up the left side of his mouth. He always did that, but now there's something else there. Something hot, almost smoldering. My entire body responds.

I don't know what to say to break the tension between us, and I'm too nervous to even think, so I grab two beers from the fridge, opening them and passing one to Ethan before we sit on the couch. I tuck my feet underneath me, watching him. He leans back, spreading one arm over the back of the couch, the picture of ease. His eyes rove over me again, making me squirm, but it isn't because I'm uncomfortable. He just makes me feel things, things I thought I'd never be able to feel.

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