Drop Dead Gorgeous

Entering, Angelo looks excited as hell to be in my bedroom for the first time and way too happy to follow Blake’s instructions and pull back my blankets and arrange pillows to prop my ankle up.

“Want me to get your pajamas?” Angelo offers.

Blake shoots him a look promising death before I can reply that I’d rather have just about anyone else in the world go through my underwear drawer rather than Angelo, and I can’t hold back the laugh that escapes when Blake grits out, “No. That’s everything.”

Jacob appears with a bag of frozen peas, his eyes bouncing from Blake to Angelo to me. I roll my eyes in answer to his unasked question. If he really wants to know, I’ll explain the silent dick measuring contest later.

“Thanks,” I tell Jacob as Blake takes the peas and gently places them on my ankle. I wince, more at the surprise of cold against my skin than actual pain.

“You good, Zo?” Blake says gently. I nod stoically.

Jacob clears his throat and mumbles, “Hey, Zoey, I think we’ll go over to Angelo’s for the night. Let me know when it’s safe to come home.”

Angelo looks like he’s about to argue, but my mouth gets there first. “What? No! You don’t have to leave.”

Jacob’s answering smirk is too knowing for my taste as he gets comfortable with the idea that I’ve brought someone home, even if it’s not like that at all.

“It’s a trailer, and I don’t want to know what you’re up to. I definitely don’t want to hear. I’ll expect the same courtesy when I get Holly to come home with me.”

I groan, letting my head fall back to the headboard with a thunk. “Never. Gonna. Happen. Jacob. And that’s not what’s happening here.” I point to Blake and then to my own chest.

Jacob holds up his hands innocently. “Sure, whatever you say.” He doesn’t believe me in the slightest. To Blake, he adds, “You good to take care of her? She deserves the best.”

He is not talking about my minorly injured ankle.

A tear tries to slide down my cheek . . . at my utter loss of control of this situation, at Jacob’s sweet assessment that reassures some doubts I’ve had about pseudo-parenting him, and even about the pain in my ankle, which is already feeling cold and numb now.

Blake stands straight and offers Jacob a handshake. “She deserves more than the best. I’m not enough, but I’ll do everything I can.”

Jacob eyes Blake, taking his measure. It’s a sight I never thought I’d see, and it brings warmth to my heart. He’s a good son-slash-brother-slash-uncle. But mostly, a good friend.

“Good that you know you’re not good enough for her, but you’ll do for now, I suppose. Zoey deserves a little happiness and bit of let-loose. I ordered pasta from Gia’s with our pizza, left it in the microwave for Zoey. Maybe you can warm it up for her?”

A tiny test of fitness. Will you feed her at least?

Blake nods, smiling tightly. “Of course. Thank you.”

“There’s enough for two,” Jacob says by way of a stamp of approval. “Let’s go, Angelo.”

Angelo shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest. “No way.”

He seems more possessive and jealous than I would’ve expected. He’s had a crush on me almost as long as Jacob has had one on Holly. And just like Jacob, Angelo has zero chance with me.

“I’m good here with Blake,” I tell the boys. I’m not sure how I came to be not only agreeing to this but fighting for it. But here we are, me lying in my bed with my foot propped up under a bag of peas that’s probably two years past freshness with three guys looking at me with questions in their eyes.

Jacob grabs Angelo’s arm and shoves him toward the door. Angelo glares back at Blake, then shoots puppy dog eyes my way. He’ll get over it, I’m sure.

Once I hear the front door open and close, the screen door slapping closed too, I roll my eyes. “That went well,” I say sarcastically.

Blake’s right eyebrow arches wryly. “I thought so. Jacob’s not too bad of a kid.”

He moves toward the bed, and I flinch, unsure of his intentions. But he only lifts my head gently until I sit up, and he reaches behind me, propping up the pillow behind my neck before adjusting the pillow under my ankle. That done, he brushes his hands off on his shirt and gives me a look. “Ready for dinner now?”

“You don’t have to do all this,” I say again.

Blake holds up a finger, ignoring my attempt to push him away. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He’s really proud of himself for that one as he leaves me alone in my bed to go back down the short hallway to the kitchen. I can hear him puttering around, opening the microwave and then closing it, then the whir of it fills the trailer. I think he’s humming too.