Page 45 of Fool Moon First Aid

“Ah, you into games?” His face lights up, those dimples of his doing funny things to my heart.

“Not really my scene,” I admit. “I’m not the shoot ’em up type.”

He hums, tapping his chin thoughtfully, then his face lights up with a grin that should be illegal. “I bet you’re all about Zelda or Animal Crossing. Let’s get you set up.”

Before I know it, he’s scooping me up, careful of my broken ankle, and planting me in the corner seat like I’m made of glass. He fusses with a pillow for my leg, his forehead creased with concern, and for a moment, I really see him. He’s not just adorable, he’s also kind, considerate, and utterly devastating. His attentiveness draws me in like a moth to a flame, and I want him to burn me.

I bite my cheek to keep from grinning too widely at his adorableness. I’m momentarily distracted by a twinge in my ribs—a stark reminder of my physical limits, despite their best efforts to make me forget.

“Okay. So the plan…” His excitement is absolutely contagious. “I’m going to go get snacks. What are your favorites?”

I feel like I just jumped into a tornado. “I like fruit snacks,” I offer, “and orange juice. I crave orange juice.”

“Probably your blood disorder,” he says, using his serious paramedic voice. “I have both.” He holds both hands palms up and waves at me. “Give me more. All the snacks.”

“How long do you plan on playing video games?” I ask.

“I’m off today,” he says as though I’m the weirdo.

“It’s eleven in the morning.” I say slowly.

“Yeah,” he replies, aghast. “And you are slacking. Give me snack ideas.”

Laughing, I begin to rattle off all my favorites. “Almonds, chocolates, popcorn, oh, and little pizzas. I am not huge on soda, but sometimes I crave it. Nutella bread.” I moan at the last one.

“Done.” He jumps over the back of the couch, making me bark out a laugh at his excitement.

Wanting to get a better look at him, I twist around in my seat, but my ribs remind me they are still on the mend. How these guys always make me forget I’m actually hurt is beyond me. Magic, maybe?

“Is lounging around and gaming all you do on your days off?” I holler, lacing my question with curiosity and mock dismay.

“Sometimes I run, or I manage to drag Brody into my world of gaming,” he shouts back, his voice bouncing off the kitchen walls, making it sound like he’s both everywhere and nowhere.

Sinking deeper into the couch, I let its well-worn leather pull me in. “Brody’s like the mediator between you and Ethan, huh?” I throw the thought out there, pondering the dynamics of their brotherhood.

“He is.” Tyler pops back into view, his arms laden with snacks. “He’s the brother we never really had.”

“Wait, you and Ethan are brothers?” That one throws me for a loop.

“Yep, can’t you tell?” he teases, though I’m pretty sure if they stood side by side, I couldn’t pick out one feature they share.

“Different dads,” he explains, heading back to the kitchen. “Brody just kind of happened one day after he showed up. Growing up, it just made sense that we’d all stick together.”

“What’s that like?” I ask, a hint of vulnerability sneaking into my tone. “Being part of a tight-knit community like that?”

“It’s a mixed bag,” he says, and I can almost hear him fiddling with the microwave. “Clan life is close. We’ve always been tight, especially before the big reveal to the world. It’s like having your whole extended family living down the block.”

That makes me think of my mama’s stories. “Reminds me of reservation life,” I murmur, and memories of her tales about spending summers in Oklahoma on the reservation with her second cousin come flooding back. Although Mama didn’t live there or share their culture, she was family, even if distantly, and they accepted her as such. “I never lived on a reservation, but my mama spent summers there. She said it was just like home but quieter. She had a whole tribe of adopted siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles.”

“That’s a spot-on analogy,” Tyler replies, just as the microwave dings its agreement. “But yeah, it’s not all roses. Everyone is in your business, and the dating pool? Let’s just say it’s more of a puddle.”

That steers my thoughts down a path I hadn’t planned on exploring today. “I never did ask if you were seeing anyone.”

“Butterfly…” He walks over to me and leans in close, his breath tickling my face. A lock of hair falls forward in a way that’s entirely too charming. “Are you asking me if I have a girlfriend?”

“No,” I snap out, then immediately backtrack with a groan. “Okay, yes.”

His grin spreads, filled with a mischief that sends a rush of butterflies through me. “Look at you, wanting to know if I’m on the market.”

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