Page 107 of The Holiday Fakers
“I’ll help,” Mia says.
“Me too,” Harper, Cara, and Marv say at the same time.
Within a few seconds, everyone runs from the hottest room in the house, leaving Brody and me on our respective couches with Ethan hovering.
He takes Brody’s hand out to check his pulse.
Without anyone in the room watching me, I shamelessly eye-fuck the man who told me he was in love with me when we were growing up.
The look Brody gives me in return takes my breath away. It promises that the kiss that rocked my world last night was only a taste of what he intends to unleash as soon as we’re alone.
“Hmm,” Ethan says, staring at Brody’s wrist. “Much stronger.”
Brody raises an eyebrow at me again, and I shove my hands under my backside to stop them from moving between my legs.
Ethan tucks Brody’s hand back under the blankets like he’s trying to buy time.
Now that Billy’s safe, my anger toward my brother is receding, replaced with empathy for the man he is now and everything he’s been through. He’s far from old, but the lines around his eyes speak of the grief in his heart that never seems to lessen.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you,” I begin. “I?—”
Ethan holds up a hand. “No. Don’t apologize.”
He’s still on high alert, his gaze fixed on the floor, the muscles in his forearms tensed as his hands form into fists.
“I … I need to think about what you said, but I can’t do it now. There’s no space,” he says.
I know what he means. The shock and stress of the day is going to take time to fade.
“But I need to apologize to both of you for not listening to Brody. I was wrong. I was panicking and shouldn’t have dismissed you the way I did.”
“It’s cool, man,” Brody says.
“No, it’s not. I’m sorry.”
Ethan’s gaze flicks to the door leading to the kitchen, and I know he’s finding it difficult to have Martha out of his sight.
“What’s Brody’s temperature right now?” I ask.
“Ninety-six.”
“So no longer mildly hypothermic?”
“No. But?—”
“What about mine?”
He checks it again. “Ninety-eight.”
“So normal, then.”
“It should be ninety-eight point six.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and reach a hand out from the covers to squeeze his. “We’ll be fine. Go see Martha.”
Ethan doesn’t immediately reply. I can sense his hesitation, so I squeeze his hand a little harder. “It’s okay. And thank you for taking such good care of us.”
He stands and drags a hand down his face, but his feet don’t move.
