“There’s no explanation necessary. We can just let it go.” I smile and hope it looks sincere. “It’s late. I should really head home.”

His face falls a little, but he nods and sets his mostly full beer on the coffee table and walks me to the door. His hands are jammed into his pockets, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He looks so uncertain, despondent even. I feel bad for him for so many reasons, not the least of which are my ulterior motives for helping him. I find myself stepping closer.

Despite the directive from my brain to stop, I wrap my arms around him, my cheek pressing against his chest. My actions seem to have shocked him, because it takes him a moment to return the hug. His shoulders curl in as he embraces me.

“Everything will be okay,” I say softly.

“I really want you to be right about that.”

His palm smooths up my back until I feel his fingers skim the nape of my neck. I have to remind myself to stay in the lines between potential colleague and friend. But this doesn’t feel like friends or colleagues, especially not when he drops his head and his nose sweeps along the side of my neck, or when his lips touch my skin and he whispers my name.

“Dax! Do we have ice cream? Can we make smoothies?” The thud of Emme’s feet on the stairs has us pulling away from each other.

Dax clears his throat. “Probably,” he shouts, but his voice is gravelly.

He jams his hands into his pockets and coughs as he does some surreptitious rearranging. My ego inflates a little at the possibility that I’ve affected him in such a way just by hugging him.

Emme comes to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh! Are you going, Kailyn?”

“I am. It was nice to see you again.”

She looks a little disappointed, but she smiles brightly. “Maybe you can come for dinner again soon? I could cook next time.”

“You cook?” I glance at Dax, wondering if it’s something they do together.

“My mom taught me. I’m not as good as she was, but I’m okay.”

“I would love that.”

“Great!” She hugs me, then rushes off to the kitchen.

“Just so you’re aware, I have no idea if she can actually cook,” Dax says.

“Maybe you should make something with her before we set a dinner date, then?” I wink and then internally chastise myself for the flirtiness. I need to keep my head on straight when it comes to these two.

chapter thirteen

DINNER DATE FOR THREE

Dax

Two weeks after the school pickup fiasco, I get a call from Emme’s guidance counselor, Miss Garrett. Midterm report cards are being sent home this week, and she didn’t want me to be surprised. Emme’s marks have taken a nosedive since the death of our parents, and her usual straight As are now littered with Cs and a few Bs.

While her counselor assures me it isn’t unusual, she’s worried about Emme. She reports other staff members have also expressed concern. I immediately assume Linda must be involved. Miss Garrett throws out terms like depression and social withdrawal. Is she engaged in meaningful activities at home? Does she go out with friends? Does she enjoy her favorite hobbies? The answer is I don’t really know.

She’s gone over to her friend Marnie’s house a couple of times after school, but hasn’t asked to have friends over in the weeks since our parents passed. Most of the time she’s holed up in her room like a normal teenager. Or maybe it’s not so normal? She sings in her room a lot, mostly sad, lamenting songs. I kind of figured it was a lot like me running lines in front of the mirror, but maybe not. I don’t have a good gauge on it since my childhood wasn’t exactly normal.

When the school requests a parent conference to discuss how to best support Emme for the rest of the term, I agree. And I’m grateful, instead of put out, that Kailyn is going to be there with me this time.

Three days later I’m standing outside of Emme’s school, waiting for Kailyn. I keep checking my phone for the time, even though she called less than fifteen minutes ago to say she was on her way. I offered to pick her up, but she said it would be easier if she drove on her own since she had a prior engagement. I’ve invited her for dinner, but haven’t mentioned it to Emme. I don’t want to disappoint her should Kailyn change her mind.

Even though it’s still fifteen minutes before the meeting is supposed to start, panic sets in. It’s not that I think she’s going to stand me up; if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Kailyn in the past several weeks, it’s that she’s unwaveringly reliable. My fear has to do with her making it here in one piece.

I understand now why Emme was so rattled when I was over an hour late to pick her up. Kailyn is two minutes later than I expected and I’m already concocting worst-case scenarios. As I’m about to call—which I realize isn’t a good idea if she’s driving—she pulls into the lot.

My anxiety over the impending meeting and the relief that she’s okay collide. Unable to stay where I am, I meet her in the middle of the parking lot.

She’s dressed in one of those sexy pencil skirts and a crisp white blouse. Her jacket is blood red, her black hose has a geometric pattern that keeps tugging my eyes down, and she’s wearing her glasses—I assume on purpose. Her long dark hair is pulled up in a tight bun. She looks incredibly professional and gorgeous.

Her expression is apologetic as she approaches. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got stuck by a train and I dropped my phone under my seat so I couldn’t call to let you know.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” I pull her against me and hug her hard.

She gingerly returns the embrace. “Dax? Are you okay?”

“You’re never late. I was worried,” I mumble.

She gives me a tight squeeze. “Oh, Dax, I’m sorry. I’m right here and fine and so are you.”

I drop my head, breathing her in, taking comfort in the smell of her skin and how warm it is against my cheek. I struggle to let her go. I recognize that my panic isn’t logical, and that my attempts at keeping this platonic on my side are failing. But I need her help right now, so I have to get a grip and not do anything to jeopardize that.

I release her on a deep inhale. “Sorry. This, uh . . .” I tap my chest. “This anxiety is new.”

She presses her palm to my cheek. “It’s okay. Deep breaths. This is all a lot to handle. It’s not just Emme who’s suffering here. You don’t have to be strong every moment of every day.”

I close my eyes and place my hand over hers to keep the contact as I breathe through the panic. I don’t know how I would do any of this without her, which is a terrifying realization. One I need to keep to myself. I was an actor long enough that I should be able to fake confidence and coolness.

I drop my hand and attempt a smile. “You ready for this?”

She regards me cautiously, her worry obvious. “Sure am.”

I hold the door open and motion her inside. We check in at the office and then we’re ushered down the hall to wait. I’m antsy as we sit in the itchy chairs. The germs embedded in this fabric could probably be cultured for a science project. I tap on the armrest, watching the clock.

“Just relax,” she murmurs.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. This isn’t a court case, Dax. They just want to help Emme.”

I nod and blow out a breath. “I think I’d be less nervous about a court case. At least with that I know what’s coming, and I have some control. It’s that it’s Emme and I don’t know what to expect that’s stressing me out.” I feel lost in my own head. Anxious that I’m going to say the wrong thing and give Linda ammunition against me. Worse, I’m worried I’m not capable of handling Emme and her needs or my own, and Kailyn’s presence confirms that in a way.

“You’ve got this. I’m right here with you.”

A loud, feminine shriek pierces the quiet. “Oh my God! Daxton Hughes.” A woman in her early forties comes to a flailing halt in front of us. “Oh! Oh God! I can’t even. My daughter loves your show and so do I. I used to watch in college. It was such a guilty pleasure.”

She holds out her hand, so I take it. Her palm is cold and clammy, or maybe that’s mine.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed the show.”

“I more than enjoyed it.” She gives me an exaggerated wink and pumps my hand vigorously. When she finally releases it, she presses her hand to her heart. “Oh! Can I get your autograph? For my daughter, of course.” That gets me another wink. “And maybe a picture, too? Oh my God. You’re such a wonderful actor. Or you were. It’s really too bad you stopped. Why did you stop?”

“I decided to pursue another career path.”

“Of course, of course. Well, it’s still too bad. Your face belongs on a screen.”

Kailyn coughs beside me.

“Do you have anything you’d like me to sign?” I ask, fighting not to look at Kailyn.

She flails again and spins around. “I’ll be right back!”

I don’t know whether to laugh or be mortified.

Kailyn leans in close, voice a low whisper meant only for me. “I’m a much better fangirl.”