Only When It's Us (Bergman Brothers #1)(76)

24





Willa





Playlist: “River,” Joni Mitchell





MacCormack’s on his best non-professorial behavior, and when he catches me after dinner, he looks like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“Willa, I want to apologize.”

“What for, Mac?”

He clears his throat, his eyes sliding over to Freya, who sits nestled on the couch. She gives a tiny wave as her eyes glint menacingly at her husband. If I didn’t find it such an admirable look in a fellow badass female, I’d be scared shitless for him.

“Well, it’s come to my attention, after some thought and reflection, and of course the very wise insight of my lovely wife—”

“Mac, I’m not going to go report to Freya about your behavior.”

“Maybe not.” He wipes his forehead. “But she’s watching, trust me. She has ears everywhere.”

I snort a laugh. “Dude, you are freaking out.”

He clears his throat. “To the point: I blurred professional and personal lines. My intentions at the outset were good. I saw a struggling student and a thriving person in you, and a disciplined student and a dwindling person in Ryder. I knew he’d be able to give you all the help you needed academically, and you’d be persistent enough to pursue what you wanted, and hopefully lurch him out of his rut. It seemed like a good character-building exercise.”

“Oh, it built character, all right. Also shaved five years off of my life, easily.”

He nods. “Yeah, like I said, I let it get out of hand. I got invested in what I saw between you two. I saw your potential, and I…well, I played God a little bit and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. If you decide to take this to my superiors, I will completely understand.”

“Mac.” A grin tilts my mouth. “As much as I fantasized about many ways to murder you in your sleep, I’m grateful. After all is said and done, I did well in that class, much in thanks to Ryder and to the fact that working with him required I get my shit together. No, you weren’t always nice, or sane, or professional, but you gave me what I needed.”

My eyes drift to Ryder. He stands, arms crossed, talking to the Irish twins, Viggo and Oliver. My heart flip-flops as I watch all three of them explode in laughter, as his head tips back with a smile. “I wouldn’t change that for the world,” I tell Mac.

Once Mac returns to Freya on the couch, she raises her glass to me. I cheers her in the air, and soak up the moment alone, taking stock of the evening. It’s been stunningly pleasant. Ryder’s family is beyond warm. His sisters are conversational and kind, Freya chatting with me about the women’s soccer program at UCLA—she played, too, “a lifetime ago,” as she said—and Ziggy fangirled over me because she wants to follow in her sister’s and my footsteps.

The brothers…they all introduced themselves. But from every single one of them I had the distinct sense of cautious propriety, like they weren’t really being themselves, but on their best, most dignified behavior. It’s almost like Ryder told them to straighten up or else…

“That’s because he did.”

A voice close to Ryder’s but not quite as rough, less baritone, cuts through my thoughts. I sigh. “I have a regrettable inability to not think out loud.”

Ren smiles. “Ah, no worries. And trust me, be glad Ryder gave them a talking to. Ax is an otherwise prickly dickly and the man-cubs are still barely housebroken.”

“But, I mean eventually, they won’t act like that, right? They’ll talk to me without looking like they’re scared Ry’s going to break their thumbs?”

Ren pats my shoulder gently. “Trust me, you’ll get hazed soon enough. For now, you’re under Ryder’s protection.” His gray-blue eyes twinkle. “He’s crazy about you. He’d break my kneecaps if he knew I told you that, but it’s obvious. You’re obviously crazy about him, too. So what’s the hold-up?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Now, Renny Roo, we shouldn’t insinuate ourselves in other people’s business.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Renny Roo? My name’s S?ren, Winifred.”

“Stop it. That doesn’t sound remotely like Willa.”

“It was off the cuff. I’m not smooth like Ryder. Take it easy on me.”

“I can’t. I’m an antagonist at heart.” I shrug and smirk as his eyes narrow in irritation. “Which is why I had to prod you about your name. S?ren is badass, and Ryder says you don’t like it. Why?”

Ren’s expression shutters slightly before he rallies with a grin and a coy look of amusement. “I’ll answer to Ren, half-pint.” He dodges my attempt to poke him viciously. “You should be more afraid to provoke me. I’m a giant ginger Viking who skates on knives for a living—”

“Hey.” Ryder cuts in. He crosses himself. “We don’t talk about the fall of the prodigal son.” His voice is still new, yet somehow familiar. My stomach tightens, hearing its deep, gravelly notes.

Ren sighs wearily. “Hockey is not that terrible. I guarantee you Bergmans have been skating on ice much longer than they’ve been chasing a ball across a field of grass, looking like demented sheep.”