Page 82 of Fire Island
I’m impressed.
By my little sister. By the way Em has her back. I’m guessing he’s the muscle she called to install the sofa. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised—he’s always been there for us.
“Is the television bigger, or is that just my eyes?” Evie notes.
“Now that one was my idea.” Emmett smiles.
“Nice one, bud,” I say, and Evie snuggles in closer again, tucking her legs underneath her. Iris returns with two bowls of popcorn, handing one to me. She drops back into her spot beside me and places the bowl on her left leg so Em can reach.
I mean, we’re in pretty close quarters, so that’s a nonissue.
The movie plays, and Evie softens into my side. I glance down to see her sound asleep. We had a big day. Chores out in the sunshine, and she spent even longer writing. No wonder she’s wiped out. I turn back to the movie, only to catch a glimpse of Em’s arm sliding around Irry’s shoulders.
She leans her head on his arm briefly, as if letting him know she knows he’s there, then rights herself and shovels more popcorn into her face.
As the end credits roll, I move slowly to my feet and scoop Evie into my arms.
“Night, Cal,” Em says softly.
“Night.” I turn to move but hesitate when I see Iris asleep against his side. “You want me to come back for Irry, too?”
“Nah, I got her.”
We stay locked in the quiet moment, brother and friend hovering. Finally, I simply nod and carry Evie upstairs.
What’s the deal with Iris and Emmett?Evie asked me once before.
Em wouldn’t, would he?
We’ve been friends for decades. He’s known Iris as long as he’s known me. If he was going to make a move, wouldn’t he have done it by now? And I would have had to rectify that stupid train of thought.
Iris isn’t someone to be taken lightly.
She’s a strong woman. All storm, no rainbows some days.
I doubt our friendship dynamic will ever change.
Padding into the spare room, I walk to the bed, leaning to one side to pull back the covers as I hold Evie in my arms. I place her on the bed, and she rolls over, curling up.
“You want those jeans off, baby?” I say.
“Hmmm.”
I release the button and remove the jeans, one elegant leg after the other. She mumbles something and curls back, hugging the pillow as I cover her up with the blanket. Brushing her hair from her face, I sit on the bed and tug my shirt from my back. Stripping down to my boxers, I cross the room to put our clothes on the chair by the door.
On my way back, I glance out the window. Something on the street below glints in the dim light of the crescent moon. Chrome.
Curved.
A motorbike. One of those cheap knockoffs of a Harley-Davidson idles outside Iris’s. I lean on the wall by the window and wait to see what the guy does next. No helmet, a battered oldcap covering his shaggy dark hair. After a few minutes pass, he pulls his cap down and shoots away from the curb, opening her up on the quiet, small-town cobbled street.
As he rounds the block and rides out of sight, my gut flips.
Who the hell was that?
I wake up to an ass pressed against my groin.
Déjà vu.
