Page 49 of Until Tomorrow Comes
“Or something.” A familiar voice answers from behind me. A voice that I would know anywhere.
Turning around, I find my brother standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a couple more bags in his hands and a backpack hanging off one shoulder. Without hesitating, I drop the hotdog packages down on the counter and fly across the kitchen.
“Alan!” I squeal and fling myself into his arms, not giving him a chance to set free his hands. He catches me in a one-armed hug that causes the bags to lightly hit my thighs. Looking over his shoulder, I spot Jackson leaning against the wall and smirking at us.
“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Shaking my head, I let go of him, backing up and snatching the grocery bags from his hands.
He shrugs, following me back into the kitchen.
“Am I not allowed to visit my sister?” He drops his backpack in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Figured it’s been way too long since I saw you so when Jackson suggested coming down for the holiday, I couldn’t say no.”
A smile stretches across my face and I look toward Jack. He simply shrugs, moving around me with a wink and continues where I left off on sorting through the groceries.
“How long are you here for?”
Alan leans forward, bracing his arms on the back of the chair and smiles at me.
“A few days, my flight leaves Tuesday afternoon.”
I scowl at Jackson across the kitchen. “This is why you made me pick out a bed frame for the other bedroom a couple weeks ago, isn’t it?”
He smiles at me, making my heart do funny things while he nods.
“Figured I shouldn’t make him sleep on the floor a second time. Plus, now it’s a functioning space.” Jack winks again, this time my cheeks heat and I have to hide my face and busy my hands.
After the night that I opened up to Jack, something had shifted between us. There are more lingering touches and glances. We’ve even fallen asleep together a good handful of times. While neither of us have crossed the line of hand holding or cuddling, most days it feels like we’re barreling toward the boiling point.
During one of our late night talks, Jackson mentioned how he has been procrastinating unpacking some of the boxes upstairs. Which is when he mentioned he needed to find a bed frame, and I then convinced him to get a shelf or two.
But then I found the best bed ever that met both our wants.
The Murphy bed takes up one whole wall, with two bookcases on either side. Two rustic doors are held up by a black rod that goes across the top. The best part is when the doors slide open, the queen sized bed folds down.
We also picked out office furniture for one of the other rooms upstairs, then spent the entire day unpacking and organizing the rest of his things. He set up his computer and a place for him to do his remote work, while I organized his books and put together another guest room.
“Come on, I’ll show you the room.” Unable to hold my laughter, I dart forward to grab his bag.
All I hear is a muffled, “shit” from Jackson before I drag my brother upstairs to show him the proud display of all theGossip Girlbooks. I snicker to myself, knowing that Jackson has no clue that I also added a few of my romance books, the ones with shirtless men on the covers, to his collection for this exact moment.
***
“You look like you’re doing better, Kit-Kat.”
Jackson coughs to cover his laughter from the other side of the kitchen island. My cheeks heat as I remember him walking in on me listening to the audiobook,Cursed Beastsby Willow Winslet. Shaking my head, I remind myself to figure out how to not think about that scene when my brother calls me that name.
Rolling my eyes, I focus on cutting up the last bit of watermelon and nod my head in acknowledgment. Before I can answer, Thea’s voice comes from the back deck.
“I come bearing margarita supplies!” She sings as she steps into the house, stopping just over the threshold when she spots my brother at the kitchen table.
“Well hello,” her southern accent is heavy and her words are drawn out as she tilts her head to the side while letting her eyes slowly roll down his body. “And who are yo—”
“Thea! Ew!” I cut her off. “That’s my brother.”
Her eyes widen and quickly jump between Alan and me, before she fixes her composure and heads toward me.
“Damn. Are your parents like models or some shit?” She jokes, while making her way to the kitchen counter and pulling out a bottle of tequila.
“Or some shit.” Alan scoffs under his breath before taking a sip of his beer, I shrug but don’t disagree.
