More Than a Memory (13 page)

“
Y
ou forgot
, didn’t you?” Confusion runs across my face when I answer the door and find Emerson standing on the other side.

“No?” Running my hand over my face isn’t helping to ring any bells.

“Is that a question?” she huffs, kicking out her foot, her hand on her hip.

I raise an eyebrow at her ridiculous pose. I’m in no mood for Diva Emerson today.

“It’s Labor Day weekend, Bryson. We scheduled this.”

I nod and let her step past me into the apartment. What she’s saying sounds vaguely familiar. “I haven’t slept since yesterday morning, Emmy. Not really firing on all cylinders here.”

I rub at my tired eyes, attempting to force them to wake up, but the urge to still close them is strong. Being up all last night, and most of today, comforting Olivia has exhausted me. I know she’s tired as well, but we’ve opted to hang out on the couch and spend time together versus splitting into our separate rooms to sleep.

“I guess that means you haven’t changed your sheets yet,” she sighs as I close the door.

Of course that’s the first thing she would think of. “I just got back from class. I was going to change them.”

“Doubtful,” she says, calling me out on my lie. “You didn’t even remember I was coming. That gorgeous roommate of yours keeping you up all night? I’m not sleeping on sheets you’ve been banging her on, Bry. I refuse.”

“Will you keep your damn voice down?” I whisper-hiss.

I hang my head as we walk into the living room where Olivia is curled up on the couch. I never regret seeing my sister, but I had just settled in beside Olivia and her head was on my shoulder. It’s not often she initiates contact, and Emerson showing up has ruined that. I can’t help the irritation beginning to seep into me.

Looking at Olivia, my eyes beg for forgiveness at Emerson’s brashness. As much as Emerson’s feminine shit has rubbed off on me, her masculine side is much bigger. She can hang with the guys and do laps around them on a bad day.

“I…” Olivia pauses as she gets up off the couch, the blanket we were about to share wrapped all the way around her body, covering up the tank top and tiny shorts she’s wearing—covering up the warm skin that was against me only moments ago.

Embarrassment washes over Olivia’s face at hearing my sister’s words. I cringe, knowing she’s going to invert on herself again because of it.

“We don’t…I mean, we haven’t...” Her head tucks against her chest, blatantly refusing to make further eye contact with either of us.

If Emerson were my brother, I’d smack her upside her damn head. My stomach falls as I watch Olivia scurry to her room. Seeing her waddling down the hallway like a penguin wrapped in that blanket would almost be comical if my frustration level wasn’t through the roof.

“Damn it,” Emerson says on a sigh when Olivia’s door clicks shut. She spins on her heel and glares at me. “You could’ve told me she was sitting in the damn living room!”

“You didn’t give me time! You just barged in here and started running your damn mouth!” I hate nothing more than raising my voice to my sister, but this time, it’s warranted. I drag my hands through my hair to keep them from wrapping around her thin neck.

“She doesn’t have to be so touchy either. It’s a simple thing to clear up.” Just like Emerson to turn defensive when her actions cause someone else discomfort.

“We need to go, now,” I hiss, grabbing her arm and urging her toward the door.

“Stop!” she says, pulling away from my grasp. A twinge of guilt hits my gut when she reaches up to rub the soreness I just caused on her arm. “I just got here.”

“I’m hungry,” I lie. “Let’s go.”

Once we’re standing outside the door, I turn to her. “I forgot my keys. Be right back. Oh, and, Emerson? You can hear every single word said in that apartment, no matter where the people are. Watch what you say, at all times.”

I feel like an ass, but I lock the door, leaving my twin standing outside while I head back inside and knock on Olivia’s door. It goes unanswered, just like I knew it would, but I couldn’t leave without trying.

* * *

I
watch
with an odd happiness at the tears falling from my sister’s eyes. No matter how brash she can be, her empathy for others knows no bounds. Normally tears would make me uncomfortable, and I’d do anything in my power to make her smile again, but I know she needs to realize how tentative Olivia’s moods are, how her words affect others. The tears rolling down her cheeks are evidence that she may think before she speaks next time there’s even a remote chance Olivia could hear.

“That poor girl,” she sobs as the video ends.

During the ride over, I filled in Emerson on what Olivia has been through because I wanted to prevent her from saying something that could trigger a depressive mood. I also told her everything Olivia and I have been through up to now—the video chats, the lies of omission. It wasn’t my intention to actually show Emerson the video—I didn’t want to put her through that—but after mentioning it and talking about Olivia, she insisted.

“She’s been through a lot,” I concede.

“You like her. I could tell the second I was in the room with both of you. The change in atmosphere was damn near palpable.” My ever-observant sister cuts to the chase as usual.

“She’s incredible,” I admit.

“She’s broken, Bryson. Right? I mean, who wouldn’t be? She still watches their recorded videos…she can’t let him go.”

I gauge my words carefully, wavering between telling my sister to fuck off and admitting the truth as she pulls a napkin from the dispenser on the diner table and tries to fix her smeared makeup.

“He’s a part of her, Emerson. I’d never ask her to give up on that. Expecting her to forget something so profound is unreasonable. He’s part of her past.” My eyes plead with her to understand and the softness in which my words flow reveal a devotion to how serious I’ve become about the woman I share an apartment with. I lower my head to my hands, the exhaustion from earlier taking hold once more. If thinking about all of this drains me, I can’t imagine what it does to Olivia.

“And what?” she says, staring across the table. “You want to be her future? Bryson, from what you told me, she wants to wallow in her grief until it fully consumes her.”

I raise my head, meeting my sister’s eyes. “Not forever, Emmy. I see…sparks of life, moments where she’s happy and not miserable about her loss. I see hope in her eyes sometimes.”

I don’t even attempt to hide my emotions from her; I’m an open book as she looks at me, searching for a reason to continue trying to convince me to let it go—to give up on pursuing Olivia.

“And that’s enough for you?” She sounds doubtful, but it’s to be expected. Emerson is even less open to love than I am—
was
.

“For now? Yes. Later on down the road…” I scrub my hands over my face, not wanting the fingers of doubt to creep in. “Can you imagine being loved by someone as much as she loves Duncan? If I could have a fraction of that, I’d be a very happy man.”

“Love? Seriously, Bry? You’ve known this chick for a couple weeks and you’re already talking about love? Did you get hit in the head with a ball at practice?” she asks, gawking at me like I’ve grown three heads.

“I’m not saying I love her, Emmy. Shit, you’re so oblivious sometimes. I’m trying to tell you when she loves, she loves hard, and that would be something I’m interested in.”

“You want to love her?”

“I’m saying I can see myself loving her, but being loved
by her
would be beyond amazing.” A faint smile crosses my face at just the idea of it.

“You have one tough uphill battle, brother. I hope you’re up for it.”

“Me too,” I mutter as the waitress comes to the table to drop our orders off.

I know then and there, I’m willing to do something I’ve never done before. If chasing her, fighting for her, and proving to her that I will to go the extra mile to earn a fraction of that love is what I need to do, then I’ll do every single bit of it with a smile on my face.

* * *

“
I
know
you heard me when I said I was giving up alcohol this weekend,” Emerson complains as we pull up to the house party that’s looking more like a block party right now.

“You wanted to hang out this weekend. This is what I had planned. You don’t have to drink.” I cut my eyes to her as I put the truck in park and open my door.

“Booze and boys? Bryson, you know I can’t turn those down,” she whispers, as if her confession is a secret, disappointment clear as day in her voice.

“We can leave,” I say as I climb back into the truck.

Reaching out a hand, she grasps my arm. “Who is that?”

I follow her finger and whip back around while shaking my head. “No. Not a chance. Rule number one: no hooking up with my teammates, Emmy. Hard limit, seriously.”

“He’s a ballplayer?” she coos, making my stomach turn.

“Liam Ashford isn’t someone you need to even talk to. I hear he can charm the panties off a nun.” Looking over, I see her brow furrow at my words. I’ve done my due diligence by warning her. Emerson has a bad taste in her mouth for playboys. It’s the reason she left La Grande the same time I did.

“Good thing I’m not wearing panties,” she says absently, never taking her eyes off my teammate.

“What the fuck, Emmy?” I say as I scrunch my nose, flabbergasted. “Don’t say that type of shit around me, and don’t even think about it. I already want to throat punch him and he hasn’t even met you yet.”

She finally pulls her eyes off Liam to look over at me. “You want me to be supportive of your grandiose dreams of Olivia, the least you can do is let me have a little fun.”

I shake my head. “Not the same. He’s a dog. I’m the one left on this campus after you leave and the last thing I need is him bragging to our team about how he bagged my fucking sister.”

She doesn’t look convinced, and I hate when she gets that determined gleam in her eyes. I never should’ve told her to stay away. Now she’ll want him even more just because I did. She may be over bad boys and players, but forbidden fruit is a whole other story.

“Besides,” I add, “he has crabs.”

“Has or had?” I glare at her as the truth about the Deltas hits me in the chest. Who is this woman and what has she done with my sister?

“Like it fucking matters.”

Her laugh makes my skin crawl.

A knock on my window pulls my attention from my disgusting sister, only to find the man of the damn hour looking through the glass.

I open the door and he crowds in immediately.

“Hey, man.” He peers over my shoulder and I recognize the second he sets eyes on my sister. “I’d ask who the hottie is, but you guys look so damn much alike, I already know the answer.”

“Good,” I hiss. “Since she looks like me, you can stay away.”

“Hate to break it to you, bro, but if I were a chick, I’d be all over your ass—and I’m not even a little gay. Liam,” he says, not bothering to let me get out of his way before reaching into the truck and shaking Emerson’s hand. “You, beautiful thing, look a lot like my next girlfriend.”

Emerson giggles like a fucking schoolgirl and my hands clench into fists.

“I don’t do the boyfriend thing,” she tells him.

“Perfect,” he says with a glint in his eye I don’t like.

I know there is no way to stop this train wreck even if I want to, so I slide out of the truck and head into the house. Maybe after a couple beers, life will seem less fucked up.

M
y heart slams
in my chest when feminine giggles wake me from a deep sleep. The second I allow images of Bryson and some floozy slut making out in the hallway to filter in, tears spring to my eyes. After Duncan passed, I swore I’d never put my heart through that kind of pain again, but somehow, Bryson found a crack and maneuvered his way inside. It’s the only explanation I have for the way I’m feeling right now.

More giggling. More tears.

They fumble, trying to make their way to his room, and bang into my door more than once—as if him saying the sweet things he’s proclaimed the last couple days didn’t even happen.

“Damn it,” he mutters as she giggles. “Emerson, I swear to fuck, if you don’t get in there and lay down, I’m going to make you sleep in the damn tub.”

Emerson?

The tears fall harder as relief overwhelms me. I listen to him bicker, finally making their way into his room. My door creaks open a few minutes later, but I don’t move. I continue to face the wall, no plans to even acknowledge him. How would I explain my jealousy at hearing another woman in the apartment? Expressing that emotion will bring on questions I don’t even have the answers to right now.

My bed dips behind me and I stiffen. “I know you didn’t sleep through that.”

Although he’s on top of the covers, his breath tickles the tiny hairs on my skin. Pulling my hair out of my face, he notices the tears on my still wet cheeks.

“Olivia,” he says, his eyes as soft as his voice, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

I shake my head. “I thought you…I thought you brought someone else…” my words die off on my lips as I hiccup in a small breath.

He tugs my shoulder and forces me onto my back. I expect frustration, but only find compassion as my eyes meet his, searching.

His thumb whispers across my cheek as his eyes move to my lips. A light flicker of arousal sparks inside me and I lift toward him, meeting him halfway as he leans down.

Warm lips find my forehead, several inches above where I’d anticipated them. I sigh my disappointment. His touch is brief before he pulls away and stands to the side of the bed. Of their own volition, my shoulders slump forward and I tuck my head lower, hoping he can’t read the fading desire I harbor for him to kiss me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the darkness.

“For what?” His voice is just as low as mine, maintaining the intimacy of the moment.

For thinking I meant more to you. For having unwarranted emotions you clearly don’t return. For letting myself hope you would kiss my lips rather than a friendly peck on the forehead.

“Everything.”

“Olivia? What are you—” He turns on the bedside lamp, momentarily blinding me. My hand moves to shield my eyes. Sitting up on the bed to avoid the direct glow from the lamp light, I blink to adjust my sight. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I just read everything wrong, I guess.” I wring my hands in my lap. “I was sort of confused where you stand, but now it’s clear.”

“Is it?” My eyes lift to his at the mirth in his tone. “Are you saying you’re confused about what I want?”

“It’s clear what you want. I’ve tried to kiss you more than once and you’ve backed away each time.”

His eyes soften at my confession.

“So, backing away means I don’t want to kiss you?” I nod. “Liv, I’ve been drinking. If I kiss you now, I may never be able to stop.”

Sincerity is written all over his face as he reaches his hand up, his thumb stroking over my bottom lip. He wants his lips on mine just as I want his. He’s trying to be a gentleman, which I can appreciate, but it’s not what I want right now.

I hitch a shoulder. “I like kissing. You wouldn’t have to stop.”

“Yeah?”

I smile. “I mean, I think I’ll like kissing you.”

“Kissing me would be awesome, beautiful, but it’s the keeping it at kissing that will be difficult, and I don’t want to scare or upset you.”

“So, no kissing tonight.” He smiles bigger when I frown.

“What about one tiny kiss tonight, Liv? Tomorrow, I’ll make out with you for hours, but I have to sleep off my buzz first.”

Heat washes over me at the idea of his mouth on mine for any length of time, but knowing he’s promising hours of attention makes my body hum with anticipation.

“One kiss,” I confirm as he moves closer to the bed.

My eyes flutter closed when his big hand cups my jaw. The contact lights a fire in me that has lain dormant for so long, it’s almost unidentifiable.

“Liv,” he whispers right before our lips meet.

Flutters assault my tummy as he slips his tongue past my lips, tangling it with mine. A decadent shiver races down my spine and goose flesh covers my exposed skin. Flexing fingers gently hold my face in place as the kiss deepens.

When he groans into my mouth, it’s the same noise I know I’d make if I were capable of sound. My hands find the soft fabric of his t-shirt and fist the material, but he pulls back when I try to tug him closer, breaking his lips away from mine.

“Bryson,” I plead.

He meets my lips once more, this kiss more chaste than the tantalizing one before it.

“Tomorrow,” he promises. “Get some sleep, Liv. You’ll need the energy for my crazy sister.”

When the door opens, the beam of light from the hallway flashes over the closed laptop on the end of my bed, and shame washes over me when I realize I don’t regret his mouth on mine.

* * *

T
he smell
of rich coffee fills my nose as I roll over and stretch. Sleep was elusive after Bryson left my room last night, but I finally managed to drift off as the first rays of sun reached my window.

Knowing I’ll find him in the kitchen, I throw on sweats, but leave the hoodie on the floor. My tank top should be a tease enough this morning.

Finger-combing my hair as I make my way down the hall, I wonder when I even started caring about how I look. The change seems so gradual, I can’t pinpoint the exact moment. I duck into the bathroom before meeting up with the handsome roommate I never wanted. A few minutes later, I’m walking into the living room with an empty bladder and fresh breath.

“Wow,” I mutter when my eyes find Bryson sprawled out on the couch.

I trace his carved abdomen with my eyes, following them until they V off at his waist. The blanket from the back of the couch is wrapped around his legs, but has been kicked down enough that there’s no missing his dark boxer briefs or the thick erection testing the strength of the fabric.

My mouth goes dry and my hands tremble.

“Gross, isn’t it?”

I gasp when I realize Emerson is standing right beside me, watching me gawk at her brother. The sound forces Bryson’s eyes to drift open. A seductive smile spreads across his face when he notices me, only to fall the second he sees his sister in the room as well.

“Emmy, will you make me a cup of coffee?” He’s speaking to his sister, but his eyes never pull from mine. The sleepy gruffness of his voice does all sorts of things to my body.

I know I should look away, but that’s a skill I can’t seem to manage right now.

“Yeah. If you put some damn clothes on. No one wants to see that shit!” She turns her back and heads toward the kitchen.

“No one?” he asks, a hint of challenge in his voice. Raising a brow, he moves his hand from behind his head and glides it down stomach. My mouth begins to water as he pauses briefly over his erection before reaching for the blanket over his legs. A low hiss escapes his mouth when he makes contact with himself, the sound echoing in my core.

With a slack jaw and probably drool hanging from my chin, I watch with regret as he covers himself up to the chin.

“Morning,” he says in a still sleepy voice, as if he didn’t just put on an erotic show for me.

I shift my weight on unsteady legs, forcing myself to finally blink.

“C-coffee,” I stammer before hightailing it to the kitchen.

Emerson has three coffee mugs out on the counter, which I find rather generous of her.

“I don’t know how you like your coffee,” she says, pointing to the empty cup.

At this point, I’d consider mainlining it.

Warm arms wrap around me from behind without regard for Emerson standing in the small kitchen. I was wondering how today was going to go and assumed we’d pretend nothing happened until the attraction built up to the point where we were forced to act on it. Clearly, I was wrong.

“Yuck,” Emerson says, scooping up her cup before walking out of the kitchen.

“That couch seriously sucks,” Bryson says near my ear as he pulls my hair back, opening the expanse of my shoulder to him.

“Mmmm.” The sound falls from my mouth when his lips meet the juncture of my throat and shoulder.

“I liked the way you were looking at me a minute ago.” Teeth meet skin and I tremble in his arms.

“Like a deaf mute who doesn’t understand social cues?”

He smiles against my neck. Placing his hand around my waist and flat on my stomach, he urges me back until I’m flush against his body. I moan again as his fingers dig in deeper.

“You looked as if you liked what you saw,” he murmurs.

“You’re very fit,” I pant. “Lots of muscles.”

“And I have a big cock.” As if to prove his very apparent point, he grinds harder against me.

I somehow manage to keep a lock on the whimper that almost falls from my lips at the contact. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He nips my neck, forcing me to squeal. “Liar.”

“Jesus Christ, Bryson. Just last night you’re refusing to kiss her and now you’re dry humping her in the kitchen. Talk about one extreme to the other.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn to face him, my cheeks on fire. I’d completely forgotten she was here.

“Thin walls,” we both mumble at the same time.

He reaches out and brushes his fingers down my cheek before leaning in and giving me a quick kiss, his teeth tugging on my lower lip before pulling away.

I immediately regret not throwing on my hoodie when Bryson swaggers down the hallway and his twin sister’s eyes land directly on my hard nipples.

Embarrassed, I hang my head and start to walk away.

“Nope,” she says just as intrusively as her brother. “Get dressed. I have a full day planned for us.”

I shake my head and look up at her.

“Don’t give me that,” she says, one brow arched, leaving no room for discussion. “I had to watch you make out with my brother. You owe me.”

My eyes widen and the all too familiar tremble begins in my fingertips. She must see the terror in my eyes, because as I’m walking by, she whispers, “Don’t worry, Olivia. We’ll go to a different town.”

Thankful for her foresight, I don’t even let it anger me that Bryson must have told her my pitiful story.

* * *

“
S
ee
, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Emerson smiles over her iced tea and nods toward the floor full of bags at our feet.

“I haven’t been out in a while. Actually forgot how much I enjoy shopping.”

“You put a hurtin’ on that credit card.”

I smile at her, but don’t respond. My finances, or abundance of money, isn’t something I readily discuss with anyone. Money doesn’t buy everything, and my life is daily proof of that.

“I can see what he sees,” she says with an odd wonderment in her voice.

“What do you mean?” I almost whisper as I smile inwardly. I know who she’s talking about, but it’s the vagueness that has me curious.

“It’s not only that you’re beautiful, because you are, but it’s like this sense of…I don’t even know. Gravity? Urgency, maybe? I’m just drawn to you. It has to be the same for him.”

I clear my throat and dart my eyes away from her. “I don’t know if that’s what Bryson feels.”

Horny, maybe
, I add in my head.

“You have that man on a leash, Olivia. Don’t fool yourself. I’ve never seen my brother soft for any woman.”

I give her a weak smile because I have no idea how I’m supposed to react to her words.