Page 3 of A Little Crush
Please don’t be Jax, please don’t be Jax, please don’t?—
My best friend, Tatum, comes into view with her boyfriend, Pax, and her sister, Ophelia, in tow. Relief washes over me. Although, now that I think about it, after the wedding, I guess she’ll be my sister, too. Ophelia’s engaged to my brother, Maverick, which means he isn’t far behind, since the two are practically inseparable. Good. He can be a buffer between me and you-know-who. It’s the only thing that convinced me to come home. The copious options for buffers, thanks to everyone being here to attend my brother’s wedding.
It’ll be fine.
Except for two minutes ago when it wasn’t. But I digress.
When Tatum sees me, she grins. “Hey, Rore.” Her eyes trail down my body. “You look hot.”
I glance down at what little can be seen of my baby blue bikini, thanks to the towel wrapped around my shoulders, and grip the lime green and fluorescent orange terry-cloth a little tighter in my palms. “Gee, thanks.”
She pulls me into a hug then passes me to Ophelia and Pax.
“Hey, Baby,” Pax greets me. “Baby" is his nickname for me, thanks to the first time we met and how much younger I was than everyone else in the room. Then again, it seems notmuch has changed. I’ve always been the baby of the group. The caboose. It also doesn’t help that the waterworks are always on standby, painting me as the fragile cry-baby everyone likes to dote on and comfort at the drop of a hat.
I shouldn’t complain. At least he doesn’t call me Squeaks. And honestly, I don’t mind the nickname he’s chosen for me. Pax is…Pax. Rockstar. Fighter. Sweetheart. He can call me whatever he wants as long as he keeps treating my best friend like gold.
“Hey, Pax,” I return. “How was meeting the future in-laws?”
With a grin, Pax turns to Ophelia. “I don’t know. What do you think, Lia? Do you think I passed your parents’ test?”
Ophelia nods. “I think he knocked their socks off?—”
“Careful,” Tatum interrupts. She slips her swimsuit cover off, revealing a deep red bikini that makes my swimsuit look like it belongs to a nun. Tossing the extra material onto the closest pool chair, she warns, “Pretty sure Paxton’s head is already big enough, thank you very much.”
Pax chuckles dryly. “Pretty sure it’s only getting bigger, thanks to the view.” He whistles. “Damn, Birthday Girl.”
As his eyes trail up Tatum’s body, Ophelia scoffs and shoves him into the pool, causing a massive splash. With a squeal, I jump out of the splash zone while Tatum folds at the waist, cackling at the sight of her boyfriend drenched from head to toe. Paxton’s head breaks the surface seconds later, and he shakes the water from his sandy-blonde hair, somehow managing to turn what would be an embarrassing moment into a sexy shampoo commercial for men. Not even bothering to hide her smirk, Ophelia pushes Tatum in right along with Pax, and I cover my mouth, laughing at the sight. I’m not going to lie. They’ve come a long way. Lia and Tate. For years, the two barely spoke to each other after my brother, Archer—Maverick’s twin—passed away in a caraccident. It was a rough time for all of us, but seeing the people I love begin healing from his absence is one of the most beautiful things in the world.
He’d love it.
The bittersweet thought flutters through my mind like a butterfly’s wings, and I let out a slow breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. I’m not sure why I still bother. They come no matter how much I fight it, but I can’t convince myself to stop. This whole event—the engagement dinner, the planning, the wedding—it’s going to leave me emotionally spent, even if I couldn’t be happier for Maverick and Ophelia.
The pitter-patter of feet distracts me from the impromptu water fight, and I look up in time to see a little boy in a shark-covered swimsuit and red floaties cannonball into the shallow end. Or at least, I think it’s what he was trying to do. The kid can’t be older than four, but he’s an exact replica of his dad.
“Dude,” Finley calls, juggling a three-month-old in her arms. “I said no running, remember?”
“I’ve got him.” Pecking Finley’s cheek, Griffin strides toward the edge of the pool, slips into the water, and tosses their little boy over his shoulder. As he pats the toddler’s bum in a mock spanking, Griffin strides across the pool, introducing himself to Paxton while Tatum hangs around Paxton’s neck like a little monkey.
“Seriously.” Finley approaches us and grabs a folded towel, laying it out on one of the empty pool chairs while keeping her newborn pressed to her chest. “Whoever said the terrible twos are rough have never had to deal with that boy.”
“Aw, come on. You know you love him,” Ophelia quips.
“I do,” she agrees. “I also love sleep. And between this little nugget”—she kisses her baby girl’s head—“and Macky’s decision to be done with naps, I’m running on empty.” Her butt finds the edge of the pool chair. “Once training starts withthe Lions and Griffin’s gone for hockey, I’m screwed.” She looks up at me and smiles, fiddling with the delicate necklace around her throat. “Hey, Squeaks. It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too,” I return. “And I believe this is…”
“Callie.” Fin twists the newborn in her arms, then adjusts the too-big sunhat on her baby’s head so I can see how adorable her little girl is.
“She’s beautiful,” I tell her. “And looks just like you.”
“I know, right?” Finley grins. “Seems Griff got his mini-me with Macky, and now I have mine.” Stealing a quick squeeze of Callie, she adds, “Do you want to hold her?”
“I’m all wet and don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Later,” I promise. And I mean it. I love kids. Always have. It’s the grown ups who scare me.
With a smile, Finley returns, “I’ll hold you to it.”
“Well, if Rory won’t take her, I will.” Reaching for Callie, Ophelia cradles her against her chest and starts swaying back and forth as Raine and Everett traipse down the short set of stairs from the balcony. They stop by for a quick set of hugs before Everett reaches for the back of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing a canvas of Raine’s artwork etched along his skin.
