Every Time I Fall (Orchid Valley 3)

I dress in my clothes from yesterday then head to the kitchen. I’m surprised to hear a knock on the door. I hesitate in the kitchen, not sure if I should risk answering in case it’s one of our friends. It’s just after seven, so I’m not sure who else it would be. On the other hand, if it’s Kace or Smithy, they’ll just let themselves in anyway. I’m not sure I want to sneak around to the degree that I’m hiding in closets.

I’m being ridiculous. Dean and I are friends, and I’m fully clothed. There’s no reason my presence should make them suspicious. It’s not like anyone would suspect we’d be a real couple, anyway.

With that decided, I head to the door and pull it open to see a young man I’ve never met before. He backs up a step when he sees me. “Oh.” He clears his throat. “Sorry. I . . . Is Dean around?” There’s something familiar about this guy. He has reddish-blond hair and a patchy beard that makes him look like a kid trying to appear older than he is.

“Can I tell him who’s asking?”

“Yeah. Name’s Milo. I’m . . . Uh. His brother?”

Oh. That’s when I see it—the resemblance. This kid’s eyes turn down in the corners the same way Dean’s do, and he has the same strong jaw. He must be a half-brother from Dean’s father, who left when he was a kid. “Sure. Um, come on in.” I pull the door the rest of the way open and wave him inside. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

The kid follows me in, his expression filled with awe as he glances around Dean’s small but impressive place. I wave him toward the living room before cutting across to the bedroom. I close the door behind me and find Dean in front of the mirror, combing his hair. He’s shirtless and in jeans that are unbuttoned at the top. He’s still a little dewy from the shower, and I have to stifle the urge to lick a bead of water off his shoulder. Damn, this man’s gorgeous.

He catches my gaze in the mirror and grins. “Missed you in the shower.”

“You never would’ve made it to work if I’d gotten into that shower with you.”

His grin widens. “Work is overrated.”

I shake my head, trying to stay focused and not fall under the spell of those sexy eyes. He could have me naked and in bed in seconds, completely forgetting about the stranger in the living room. “Um, there’s someone here for you.”

He frowns. “Who?”

“Milo. He said he’s your brother?”

Dean’s smile falls away and he bows his head, breaking eye contact and focusing on returning his comb to his toiletry kit. “Did he say why he’s here?”

“I didn’t ask.” I glance over my shoulder. “I think it might be important.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He steps around me and heads out into the living room without sparing me another glance, let alone the regular every-chance-he-gets kiss I’m usually treated to before he walks away from me.

Convinced that exhaustion is making me take this personally, I follow. The unexpected appearance of his brother is obviously an issue for Dean, so the least I can do is stand beside him.

The kid’s sitting on the edge of the couch, twisting his hands, and he jumps up when he spots Dean. “Hey.”

“You need something?” Dean asks softly.

“It’s about Dad.”

His expression goes cold. “Then my friend shouldn’t have let you in,” Dean says.

Friend. I don’t know why I hate that word so much right now, but I push away my nagging feeling of dread. Now isn’t the time.

“Then again,” he continues, “if you would’ve been upfront about the fact that I don’t want to hear that shit, she wouldn’t have made that mistake.”

The kid shifts from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry to show up like this. I just wanted you to hear me out.”

“Not interested,” Dean says, and I cringe at how callous he sounds. I’m sure Dean has a good reason, but this kid seems nothing but anxious to please him. “You know the deal. I’m here for you, but you don’t get to use our relationship to drag me back into one with him. You can go now.”

“Dad’s bad,” Milo blurts.

Dean flinches, but a moment later his face returns to a picture of detached coolness. “Sandy already told me. And, like I told her, that’s a matter for you and your family to deal with.”

Milo’s hands clench and release at his sides. “He’s your dad too.”

“Nah,” Dean says. “He’s not.”

Milo studies his shoes. I don’t blame him. This cold, angry Dean is intimidating. “Today they’ll be releasing him into hospice care. You’re running out of time to say goodbye.”

Dean doesn’t reply. He doesn’t move. It’s as if the words froze him in place.