“Em?” Dax knocks tentatively.

The music coming from the other side of the door lowers, and we hear the creak of a bed and the padding of feet crossing the room. The door opens a crack and one bleary, red-rimmed eye peeks out. “Did you get the stuff?”

This sounds like a bad drug deal.

“I did. I also came with reinforcements.”

Her brows dip. “What?”

“I, uh, I called Kailyn.”

“You did what? Why?” Her pitch rises to mortification level.

“Because I needed some help and she’s a girl with experience in this area.”

She throws the door open, and whatever words are about to come out of her mouth die when she sees me. “You brought her here?”

“Don’t be rude,” Dax snaps.

Emme’s anger turns to chagrin and she bows her head a little, peeking up at me. “I’m sorry. I’m just—this is so embarrassing.”

I want to alleviate some of the tension my presence seems to have caused. “What’s embarrassing is your brother walking around a CVS with adult diapers instead of maxi pads.”

Emme looks from Dax to me. “Seriously?”

“Oh, totally. Now everyone in that store thinks he pees his pants.”

A small smile appears on Emme’s uncertain face and she giggles.

“If you want, we can go through your goodie bag and I can tell you what’s what,” I offer.

She bites her lip. “Okay.”

I skim the back of Dax’s hand, encouraging him to relinquish the bag. “We’ll be out in a bit.”

He seems torn as I enter his sister’s room, and my heart softens even more at his forlorn expression when Emme closes the door on him.

Her room is typical teenage girl. Boy band posters and her favorite TV stars are taped to the wall. Books are stacked haphazardly on her dresser, and a journal lies facedown on her bed. She closes it and slips it under her pillow, dropping down on the mattress with a soft bounce. The comforter is wrinkled and the room is lived in.

She pats the mattress, inviting me to join her. I dump out the contents of the bag and her eyes widen. “Oh my God. There’s so much stuff.”

“We wanted to cover all the bases. How’re you feeling?”

“Like crap. My stomach hurts and I just feel . . . yuck.”

“Sounds about right.” As unconventional as this entire situation is, I’m glad Dax took me up on my offer to come back and explain this all to Emme. Teen years are already hard enough with all the hormones and the changes, never mind going through it without a mother.

I spend the next ten minutes explaining everything in the bag, what to use when, how to use tampons—I can’t even imagine Dax attempting that conversation—before I send her into the bathroom and give her some privacy.

I almost collide with Dax when I step out into the hall. Apparently he’s been pacing the entire time. Like she’s been undergoing major surgery, not learning the ins and outs of tampon and pad usage. He grabs me by the shoulders to keep me from stumbling into the wall. “Is everything okay?”

“She’s fine. I explained how it all works and she’s doing her thing. She’ll be out in a minute. I told her we had treats.”

“Right, okay.” He’s still holding my shoulders, thumbs sweeping slowly back and forth. There’s about six inches between our bodies, and I’m forced to tip my head back so I can meet his concerned, still-uncertain gaze. But there’s something else there, something that warms my belly and makes my toes curl a little. What the hell is going on tonight?

“It would probably be best if we weren’t standing out here waiting for her.”

He blinks slowly, then seems to come into himself. “Yes. Right. We should go downstairs?”

“That’s a great idea.” I pat one of his hands.

He finally drops them and motions for me to go ahead of him, which is too bad, because I kind of like his rear view as much as I do the front.

Emme comes down while Dax is unpacking the bag of candy and savory snacks.

“Everything work out okay?” he asks.

Her cheeks flush, but she nods.

“Oh man! These are, like, all my faves!” She spreads her arms and leans over the counter, scooping up the entire pile into a hug. She releases it back into a heap on the counter and turns to her brother, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you.”

He returns the embrace, his smile sad. “You’re welcome. I had a lot of help. I’m sorry I’m clueless here.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbles against his chest. “I just miss Mom.”

“Me, too,” he whispers back.

I turn away, not wanting to intrude on their moment. This is the first time I’ve truly seen his love for her. In the weeks since his parents’ passing, he’s fully immersed himself in the role of parent, while still trying to hold on to the easier one encompassed in being her brother.

I should leave, but I also don’t want to interrupt. I take a few steps backward, toward the living room, where I left my purse on a side table. I could make a quiet exit.

“Can we watch a movie and eat junk food?” Emme asks.

“Whatever you want, kiddo.” She ducks out from under his hand when he ruffles her hair, batting it away.

Emme gives me a shy smile. “Can you stay, Kailyn?”

“Oh, uh, I should probably go home.” I thumb over my shoulder, feeling suddenly awkward.

“Do you have to?” Emme bites her fingernail.

“You’re welcome to stay unless you have other plans.” I meet Dax’s inquisitive gaze, his head tipped a little to the side.

I see things there. Things I shouldn’t be looking for. Things I shouldn’t want or like. My focus should be on finding opportunities to ask about work and his firm, not watching movies with him and his sister. But it’s an opportunity to get to know them both better. It could be helpful. And more than that, I think I might like the man I never got a chance to know outside of class in law school, or at least, who he’s become.

“Sure. I’d love to stay. I want one of those ice cream things, though.”

“There’s ice cream?” Emme bounces with excitement and then cringes a little.

I mirror Dax’s smile as he mouths thank you. But my stomach twists with guilt over my motivations for agreeing to stay, and how they’re conflicting with what seems to be happening in my chest.

chapter eleven

FIRSTS

Kailyn

We make it halfway through the movie before Emme passes out on Dax’s shoulder, snoring softly.

“I’m going to take her up to bed,” he whispers.

“Want some help?”

“Please.”

I hold her head still while he slips an arm around her back and one under her knees. He grunts when he picks her up. “This was a lot easier when she was smaller.” He inclines his head to the stuffed llama on the couch. “Can you grab that?”

I nab it, then rush up the stairs ahead of him so I can open her door and throw back her comforter. I leave Dax to settle her in bed, and wander down the hall in search of a bathroom.

I peek in the next door down, flick on the light, and freeze. It’s an It’s My Life fangirl’s dream in there. A barely audible squeal bursts free, and I clamp a hand over my mouth, embarrassed.

I’m standing in Daxton Hughes’s childhood bedroom. And it looks like a shrine to his teen years. A poster of him and the cast of It’s My Life is tacked to the far wall, Daxton front and center because he was the star of the show and the reason every teen girl was glued to her television from nine to ten p.m. every Tuesday night.

I try and fail to keep from bouncing as I cross the room to get a better look. It occurs to me that the cast of the show would’ve been a lot like his family. I wonder if he’s kept in touch with them all these years, and if they have reunions, like high school.

Daxton was such an adorable teenager. My infatuation with him was so consuming. I had all the posters, the DVDs, and of course the album that accompanied the Christmas movie prior to the final season.

I pick up the old DVD case—teenage Dax smirks at me— then exchange it for the Dax Barbie doll perched on a stand, smoothing my thumb over his silky hair. It’s a couple of shades darker than it is in real life.

“You found my mother’s trophy room.”

I gasp and turn, hugging the doll to my chest. “I was looking for a bathroom.”

His smile is exactly the same as it was in college, cocky, knowing, and he points to an open door on the other side of the room. “There’s one through there, but it hasn’t been cleaned in a while.”

I glance around again, taking everything in. “There’s so much stuff in here.”

“That show was my life for a long time.” Dax leans against the doorjamb. “No pun intended.”

“Was it hard when it ended? You must have spent a lot of time with them.” I gesture to the poster of the entire cast.

“I was with them more than my family while the show was in production. Most of us still keep in touch.” He looks a little wistful. I wonder what it’s like to be the center of so many teenage girls’ worlds for such a long time, just to trade it in for some normalcy.