Brother's best friend x sister
I didn’t expect everything to look exactly the same.
The same chipped white mailbox. The same cracks on the driveway. The same porch light that flickered when you walked past it too fast. My mom used to call it “haunted.” My dad swore it was just bad wiring. Neither of them live here anymore, but here I am, pulling into my childhood home with my car full of boxes and a weird tightness in my chest.
The plan was simple: stay for a few months, sort things out, figure out my next move.
Definitely not: run into my brother’s best friend looking like a damn magazine cover for “hot men with tattoos.”
I barely had time to kick the door shut behind me before I heard voices coming from the kitchen. I wasn’t even halfway through dragging my suitcase in when Ryan cal
