“You could have called me. I would have come get you.”
“Well, here’s the thing about phones, Willem…” he started with a smirk that let me know where Arabella got it from.
“I pick up my phone,” I grumbled, patting my pockets and coming up empty. “At least when I have it on me.” I rolled my eyes and went to grab my phone from where it fell out of my pocket into the couch cushions. Sure enough, one missed call.
“So, how are things going?” Harry asked, looking between Arabella and me. “Has her bitterness over coming to college drove you insane yet? Do I need to take her home with me?”
Arabella forced a smile, crossing her arms like she was trying to defend herself against his barbed joke. When she dropped her gaze to her bare feet, I saw the girl who avoided phone calls from her parents, not because she was bratty, but because their disapproval hurt.
“It’s actually been great. She’s a phenomenal house guest.”
Harry’s brows shot up, looking to me like I told him she wore fifties dresses and packed my lunch every day. His gaze shot to Arabella, but she was too busy looking at me. I offered a small smile, trying to hide how much the way her jaw relaxed into a soft curve of wonder affected me. Had no one stood up for her before?
“We were actually just binging the History Channel together, trading stories about our travels.”
“That’s right. You know, I thought about how much you two have in common, but I figured Arabella would be out gallivanting with friends too much to stay home and get to know you. At home, she appeared to eat and sleep and was off again.”
“I was home more than that. You just weren’t there to notice,” she muttered.
Halting any reaction to that comment before it could start, I kept talking. “I’m much cooler than any of those hipsters.”
“No one says hipsters anymore, Uncle Will.”
I glared at the Uncle Will comment, not missing the slight twitch in her lips. “I’m bringing it back,” I explained.
She gave a thumbs up, finally relaxing her arms from around herself. “Good luck with that.”
Harry watched our banter and shook his head. He scanned the room, landing on the two beer bottles on the table. Thankfully, one was empty, so it could be passed off as both of them being mine. Before he could comment, I quickly suggested dinner.
The night progressed with food and a Marvel movie. Apparently, Arabella got her love of the world from Harry. Thankfully, the tension eased a bit, the sharp-edged jokes becoming less and less. The ones that did come, I did my best to deflect without drawing too much attention as to why I wanted to protect her so much.
Mainly because if someone asked me, I wasn’t sure I could explain. This past week of hugs had built something slowly—something more than physical attraction. It wove its way around us, tying me to her in a way I wasn’t sure I wanted to evaluate too closely. When it prodded my thoughts, I shoved it down as just appreciation for the simple affection.
Yeah, that was it.
By the time we called it a night, my body ached at the thought of going to bed without at least one more hug from her. But having her father in the house made it damn near impossible to ignore everything that was wrong with what we were doing. It made it difficult to explain it away as just a simple hug we didn’t have to explain. Outside eyes gave us another perspective, shining a light on the things we tried to ignore.
So, after setting Harry up on the couch, I forced myself to walk past her room toward mine. My muscles clenched, fighting each step, but I made it to the other side of my door and locked it. What I needed was a lock to keep me inside.
Especially because almost an hour later, I laid awake in bed, staring up at the moon streaking across my ceiling. Harry stopped talking about forty minutes ago, and I assumed he had gone to sleep.
I hoped so because my muscles won out.
I flung the covers back and quietly, but quickly, crept down the hall and tried to stop my knuckles from making contact with the wood door but failed.
Holding my breath, listening for any slight sound from downstairs, I tapped against her door. Part of me hoped she didn’t answer, that she fell asleep hours ago when she made excuses to go to bed earlier. The other part begged and pleaded that she open the door and wrap her arms around me.
In those seconds of waiting, I realized how far down the rabbit hole I’d fallen. Besides the fact that she was my stepbrother’s daughter. Besides the fact that she was nineteen. Besides the fact that she’d be a student at the college I taught at. Besides all of that, I think I was most alarmed at how I couldn’t get to sleep without one more embrace in her arms. Like I needed them to hold me together and patch me up for a little bit longer.