Page 16 of You Fall First

I’d be more comfortable with this arrangement if my buffer, Dutton, were between us. Or if Jo smelled a little less … good. The women at Havenwood, both the residents and my coworkers, lean more toward your typical floral perfumes or fruit-scented shampoos and body washes. But Jo’s skin gives off a more subtle scent of something smooth and welcoming, like butter and sunshine. It’s … distracting.

And even before I’d gotten a whiff, I’d already lit up just seeing her again.

I had no idea she’d be here tonight. The fact that she lives with her folks never came up in conversation with Dex. I mean, we’re guys. It’s not like he spends time sharing details of his sisters’ lives with me.

I didn’t know Landry and Brock got engaged, or that Kendal had a baby. I’m not even sure I knew she and Tim had two kids before. This is all new information I picked up tonight. I also learned that Jo hadn’t told Kendal she saw me at the farm today. As soon as those words left her mouth, I knew where I ranked in her consciousness, which is not in a place of interest or importance. The natural attraction I felt for her wasn’t reciprocated. And a quick, cold shower of disappointment washed over me.

But now that I’ve taken a beat, though, I realize it’s a good thing Jo only sees me as some guy she met through her brother. Because the truth is I am a friend of Dex’s. And uncle to Dutton. Paige’s only brother. I don’t want to rock those relationship boats, or spread myself any thinner than I already am. So while we eat, I do my best not to look in Jo’s direction.

Or to smell her.

Instead, I steal glances at the Little Tikes table.

Kendal’s kids brought a set of plastic dinosaurs from the den to the table, and they’re all pretending to be cave people eating spaghetti until the dinosaurs eat them. With each grin etched across Dutton’s face, the coils in my chest unspool a bit more.

According to Paige, Dut rarely got to spend time with kids his age at home. An older lady down the street used to watch him during the week while Paige was at work. She never admitted as much, but I suspected she couldn’t afford an official daycare or preschool. But that’s all about to change.

For both of them.

When our side of the room goes quiet, I look up, realizing the focus of the conversation has shifted. The Michaels family is staring at me, waiting for an answer to a question I must’ve missed.

“Sorry.” I set down my fork and nod to indicate the kids’ table. “I got distracted by dinosaur land.”

“My mom just asked how long Dutton’s staying with you,” Dex says.

Beside me, Jo fidgets, pushing a piece of garlic bread around her plate. She’s mopping up sauce. But she doesn’t take a bite.

“Indefinitely.” I bob my head. “He and my sister are moving in.”

Maggie sends me a kind smile across the table. “You all must be close, then.”

“Let’s hope.” I press out a laugh. “My place has three bedrooms, but there’s only one bathroom.”

“Where’s your sister moving from?” Landry asks.

“Mayville. In Upstate New York. That’s our hometown, about an hour outside of Albany. Paige loves it up there, but our parents are both gone now, so I finally convinced her to move here.”

Lewis’s brows draw together. “Sorry to hear you’ve lost your folks.”

“Yeah, me too. Thanks.” The words come out gruff, and I clear my throat, ready to change the subject. “Anyway, I got Paige set up with an overnight job where I work. That way, we can trade off taking care of Dutton. I’ll be home with him when she’s there, and vice versa. Split days, basically.”

“Wow.” Maggie’s eyes widen. “You’ll be busy.”

“Understatement,” I say. “But we’ll be together again, which is what our mom and dad would’ve wanted.”

“That’s wonderful,” she says.

“And Dutton sure seems happy,” Kendal chimes in while she cuts up noodles for the baby. The family’s filling in blanks now, not asking questions, and I like the conclusions they’ve drawn.

I want Dutton to be happy.

I want my sister and me to be close.

“I hope he’ll like it here,” I admit. “My sister, too. I’m responsible for both of them now, so …”

My voice trails off, and I swallow the dryness in my throat. I’m not used to opening up like this around a table full of someone else’s family. Vulnerability is new for me.

And awkward.