My Brother’s Best Friend

Ella Coming home was supposed to feel familiar. That was the lie I had been telling myself for the last six hours. I repeated it somewhere outside Cleveland when the rain started, again when my GPS rerouted me around construction, and one final time when I pulled into my brother’s driveway and sat behind the steering wheel staring at the house I had known almost my entire life. Familiar. Safe. Temporary. Three months, maybe four. Long enough to figure out what I wanted to do next without paying an absurd amount of rent for an apartment I no longer wanted in a city that had stopped feeling like mine. That was all this was. A reset. I grabbed my purse, pushed open the car door, and immediately regretted wearing shorts because the October air bit into my bare legs. Ella: “Perfect.” My suitcase nearly tipped over when I dragged it from the trunk. I caught it against my hip, slammed the trunk shut, then looked down at myself and laughed quietly. I looked exactly like someone who had spent most of the day driving. My long dark brown hair had started the morning curled and loose over my shoulders. Now it was twisted into a messy knot on top of my head, with several pieces hanging around my face. I had mascara under one eye, an oversized gray sweatshirt covering most of my shorts, and sneakers I had owned since college. Not exactly the dramatic homecoming movies promised. I wheeled my suitcase toward the porch. The front door was unlocked. Of course it was. Logan had never met a safety precaution he couldn’t ignore. Ella: “Logan?” Nothing. I stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind me. The house smelled different. Not completely different. Logan’s ridiculous cedar candle was still burning somewhere, and the same dark wood floors creaked beneath my shoes, but something else had changed. There was music playing quietly from the kitchen. A man’s voice humming along. My first thought was that Logan had company. My second was that I seriously hoped he was dressed. Then I rounded the corner. And forgot how to breathe. Callum Hayes stood at the kitchen counter. Barefoot. Gray sweatpants. Black T-shirt. Glass of water in one hand. For several seconds, my brain refused to make sense of what my eyes were seeing. Callum looked up. Everything inside me went still. Four years. Four years since I had stood this close to him. Four years since I had heard his voice anywhere except interviews I pretended I didn’t watch. Four years since he had looked at me and said the words that had ended everything. He had changed. That was my first coherent thought. At twenty-three, Callum had already been attractive enough to make women ridiculous around him. At twenty-seven, he was something else entirely. He had always been tall, but somehow he seemed larger now, easily six-four, his shoulders broader beneath the thin black cotton stretched across his chest. Hockey had built him first. Years of training after retirement had apparently maintained every unfair part of it. His dark brown hair was nearly black under the kitchen lights, shorter at the sides and slightly longer on top, like he had run his hand through it without bothering to fix it afterward. His jaw had sharpened. Light stubble covered it. And the small pale scar beneath his chin was still there. I hated that I noticed that. I hated that I noticed everything. His eyes found mine. Gray-blue. Cool enough to fool people who didn’t know him. I knew better. Callum: “Ella.” Just my name. That was all it took. My stomach tightened so hard it almost hurt. Ella: “What are you doing here?” Excellent. Four years apart and apparently hello was too advanced for me. Something flickered across his face. Amusement, maybe. Callum set his glass down. Callum: “Good to see you too.” His voice was deeper. That was annoying. Everything about him was annoying. Ella: “I’m serious.” Callum: “I figured.” His gaze moved over me slowly enough that I noticed. Not in a way that felt crude. Somehow that would have been easier. His eyes paused briefly on my legs before coming back to my face. Then his expression shifted. Callum: “Your hair’s longer.” My fingers immediately went to the loose strands beside my cheek. Ella: “You remember my hair?” The question escaped before I could stop it. His eyes stayed on mine. Callum: “I remember a lot of things.” My chest tightened. No. We were absolutely not doing that. Not thirty seconds after I walked through the door. I dragged my suitcase farther inside. Ella: “Where’s Logan?” Callum: “Upstairs.” Ella: “And you’re…” I gestured vaguely at him. Callum glanced down at himself. Callum: “Standing?” Ella: “Living here?” That almost-smile appeared. The one I remembered too well. The left corner of his mouth lifted slightly before the rest of his face caught up. Callum: “Temporarily.” Ella: “Why?” Callum: “Flood at my place.” I stared at him. Ella: “You own like six houses.” Callum: “Four.” Ella: “Oh, sorry.” Callum: “I appreciate the correction.” I rolled my eyes. And there it was. The horrible familiarity of him. For one second, it felt like nothing had changed. Like we were twenty and twenty-three again. Like he might reach for me as I passed. Like I might let him. Then footsteps sounded above us. Logan: “El?” Relief hit so hard I nearly laughed. Ella: “Yeah.” My brother came down the stairs two at a time. Logan Bennett had always been the easier one to look at. Not because he wasn’t handsome. He was. At thirty, he was tall and broad-shouldered with brown hair, brown eyes, and the same slightly crooked smile he had worn since we were kids. People said we looked alike. Mostly around the eyes. But Logan had an openness to his face that I had never been able to fake. He grinned when he saw me. Logan: “Finally.” I barely had time to brace myself before he grabbed me in a hug. Ella: “You’re crushing me.” Logan: “You’ve been gone forever.” Ella: “Three years.” Logan: “Exactly.” He put me down, then looked over my shoulder toward the kitchen. Logan: “You saw Callum.” Ella: “Unfortunately.” Callum: “She’s thrilled.” Logan laughed. Logan: “I figured you two would either hug or immediately start fighting.” My heart nearly stopped. I looked at Callum. He looked back. Neither of us spoke. Logan, oblivious, grabbed the handle of my suitcase. Logan: “Come on. Your room’s ready.” Ella: “You cleaned it?” Logan: “I own cleaning supplies.” Ella: “That wasn’t my question.” He gave me a look and started upstairs. I followed. Then Logan stopped on the third step. Logan: “Oh, Callum’s staying here for a few weeks.” I stared at the back of his head. Ella: “A few weeks?” Logan turned around. Logan: “Maybe longer. Depends on the construction.” My eyes moved toward Callum. He was leaning against the kitchen counter now, watching us. Watching me. Ella: “You knew I was coming.” Callum didn’t hesitate. Callum: “Yes.” Something about the answer bothered me. Ella: “How long?” Logan answered instead. Logan: “I told him a couple weeks ago.” A couple weeks. Callum had known. And he was still here. I didn’t know why that mattered. It shouldn’t have. He had every right to stay with his best friend. Logan had every right to invite him. I had no claim over either of them. I climbed the stairs. Ella: “Great.” Logan: “You okay?” Ella: “Why wouldn’t I be?” Because I had spent four months secretly sleeping with the man in your kitchen four years ago. Because I had loved him. Because he had ended it like we had been nothing. Because apparently he remembered my hair. I smiled. Ella: “Just tired.” Logan accepted that. Callum wouldn’t have. That was another thing I remembered. Callum always knew when I was lying. Logan carried my suitcase into my old room while I stood in the doorway taking everything in. The walls had been repainted a soft cream. New bedding. New dresser. But the window was the same. So was the view of the backyard. Logan: “I figured you’d want your own space.” My irritation softened. Ella: “Thanks.” He shrugged. Logan: “Stay as long as you want.” That was exactly what I had been afraid he would say. I hugged him again anyway. Ella: “I’m going to shower.” Logan: “There’s food downstairs.” Ella: “Okay.” He left. I closed the door. Then leaned against it. Callum Hayes was downstairs. Living here. I covered my face with both hands. Ella: “You have got to be kidding me.” A quiet knock sounded behind me. I froze. Three taps. Slow. I knew that knock. God, I knew that knock. I opened the door. Callum stood in the hallway. Up close was worse. Much worse. His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to mine. Callum: “We should talk.” Ella: “No.” Callum: “Ella.” Ella: “That isn’t going to work anymore.” His brow lifted. Callum: “What isn’t?” Ella: “Saying my name like that and expecting me to do whatever you want.” Something changed in his expression. Callum: “You think that’s what I’m doing?” Ella: “I think you knew I was coming back and somehow forgot to mention you were living here.” Callum: “We don’t talk.” The words hit harder than they should have. Ella: “Exactly.” I started closing the door. His hand caught the edge. He didn’t push it open. He just stopped me from shutting it. Callum: “I didn’t know if you’d come if you knew.” My fingers tightened around the doorknob. Ella: “Why would you care?” Silence. Callum looked at me for a long moment. Then his gaze moved across my face like he was searching for something he had lost years ago. Callum: “You really want me to answer that tonight?” My heart started beating faster. Ella: “No.” Callum: “That’s what I thought.” Anger flared. Ella: “You don’t get to act like you know me.” His face changed. The teasing disappeared. Callum stepped slightly closer. Not touching me. Never touching me. Callum: “I know exactly who you are.” My throat tightened. Ella: “You knew who I was four years ago too.” That landed. I saw it. His jaw flexed. Callum: “Ella—” Ella: “Goodnight, Callum.” I shut the door. This time he let me. I stood there with my back against it, breathing harder than a conversation warranted. Then his voice came quietly through the wood. Callum: “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came home.” I closed my eyes. Four years ago, I would have opened the door. Tonight, I didn’t. But I stood there long after his footsteps disappeared down the hall. And that might have been worse.