Page 27 of Don't Fall For Your Brother's Best Friend

The front door opens before we even reach it, and Carol stands there with a huge smile on her face. “I’m so glad you could both make it,” she says warmly.

Callum doesn’t say anything, just wraps her in a tight hug. I need to look away so my emotions don’t get the better of me. Seeing their bond always tugs at my heartstrings, reminding me of what I missed out on growing up.

“Callum, what’s wrong, son?” Carol asks, her smile fading into a look of concern as she holds him.

I step inside behind them and see the worry on her face. “We’re here now, Mom. Just tell us,” Callum says, his voice steady but with an edge of urgency.

Her brows furrow as she looks between us, confusion evident. “Tell you what?”

“Carol, we’re here for you,” I add, my voice gentle yet firm, trying to convey that we’re ready for whatever news she has.

She looks puzzled for a moment, then laughs softly. “Oh, boys, there’s nothing wrong. You two are always so thoughtful. I invited you to dinner because Tripp is out and your father and I are going out for a fancy dinner, and I didn’t want Anya eating alone.”

Callum steps back, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “You’re kidding, right? You didn’t actually pull us away from work because you want us to babysit?”

She hits him lightly with the kitchen towel she’s holding as she smiles. “Your sister doesn’t need to be babysat, silly boy. She needs company. She’s been a little down.” Her soft eyes slide to mine, and I feel myself stiffen. “I think she just needs a friend.”

My heart cracks in my chest, knowing I’m the reason she’s feeling this way. The guilt weighs heavily on me, each glance from Carol a reminder of the turmoil I’ve caused.

“Mom, what the hell? There’s nothing wrong with you? You aren’t dying? No one is dying?” Callum yells, his voice echoing through the hallway.

It sounds muffled to me, though, as I keep thinking of Anya. The image of her smile haunts me, a stark contrast to the sadness Carol hinted at.

“Callum Atwood, don’t raise your voice to me,” Carol scolds, her tone firm. “You need to realize what an asset your sister is to that brewery. She needs to hear it. So stop being such a hardhead and do what you know is right.” She shakes her head and looks at me. “Griffin, you’re here to keep them from going at each other’s throats.”

“Mom...” Callum starts, but she holds up her hand as Don walks down the stairs.

“Dinner is ready. It’s staying warm in the oven. Anya is in the shower, so it would be nice if you had everything set for her when she gets out.” She tosses her apron at Callum and smiles. “Have fun.”

A night with Anya and Callum. This really is bad news.

Callum catches the apron, grumbling under his breath as he heads to the kitchen. I follow, trying to shake off the unease that’s settled in my gut. The kitchen is warm and inviting, the smell of lasagne and fresh bread filling the air. Callum starts pulling dishes from the oven, and I set the table, my movements automatic as my mind races.

“Dude, can you believe this?” Callum mutters, placing a few dishes on the counter. “All this fuss just because Anya’s feeling a bit down?”

“She’s your sister, Callum. Sometimes it’s the little things that matter,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant. But inside, I’m a mess. I know I’m the reason she’s feeling down, and it tears me apart.

We set everything up, and I can hear the faint sound of the shower running upstairs. My thoughts keep drifting to Anya, wondering how she’ll react when she sees me. Will she be angry? Sad? Indifferent? The uncertainty is killing me.

Chapter 9

Anya

I hear voices when I step out of the shower, but I figure it’s just my mom and dad. My mother’s been excited about making lasagna, and she even told me she made something special for dessert. I don’t know why she’s going all out on dinner, but whatever. It’s a comforting thought, considering the turmoil inside me.

My phone dings on my dresser, and I pick it up, checking the text that just came through.

Willow: Sex is highly overrated, right? Like there’s no reason I should expect too much from Lake, right?

I stare at the text thread between Willow, Hartford, and me.

Hartford: Sex is never overrated. When you’re with the right man it’s worth it.

Willow: How do you know if you’re with the right man? I care a lot about Lake, but we just can’t seem to get the sex right.

Is it that bad?

Willow: Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I’m just not a sexual person.