Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(22)

“You’re secret’s safe with me,” I reassure her.

She flashes me a smile before her gaze dances over to Viggo and she chokes on her bite.

He rolls his eyes. “Laugh it up.”

Willa cackles and says to me, “He looks like he took a bath in beta carotene.”

Frankie eases down next to her, setting her smoke-colored acrylic cane between her legs and smoothing her dark hair into a ponytail. “He looks like he took a nap in a tanning bed and forgot to wake up.”

Willa cackles harder, clutching her stomach.

“Wow,” Viggo says around his sandwich. “Who needs six siblings to bust your balls when you’ve got their significant others to do it for them?”

“Anybody need refills on their food?” Ren calls from the doorway. The sun turns his hair bright copper as he flashes a beaming smile. My older brother is the kind of pure-hearted goodness I aspire to. There isn’t a gentler, sweeter guy in the world.

The truth is, I’ve tried to take notes from what a class act Ren is as a professional athlete, now captain of his hockey team, the LA Kings. How composed he always is, how warm toward the media, how gracious toward fans. He’s so good at it. I’ve done what I could to follow his example.

And in some ways, I think I’ve found my stride. I’m all too happy to chat with fans, especially kids, do the PR circuit, participate in humanitarian initiatives. I love my biweekly coffee blitzes for the staff, making them feel seen and appreciated. I enjoy being the voice of encouragement to my teammates, keeping things upbeat, believing in us when belief feels a little hard to come by.

But I’m also tired. Because ever since Gavin showed up, it’s become harder and harder to maintain that positivity. I’m tired of being good and friendly and endlessly patient with his miserable, pervasively negative presence. I’m tired of his relentless grumpiness. And I’m tired of the fact that every time I shut my eyes, I feel his hips brushing mine, his mouth a whisper away, heat burning through me.

“We’re good, Zenzero!” Frankie tells Ren, snapping me from my thoughts.

“You okay, Ollie?” Willa pushes back her clean plate. The woman eats faster than me, which I really didn’t believe was humanly possible.

I force a smile. “Just a little worn out.”

Axel slips past Ren in the threshold and walks across the yard, a plate of food in hand, squinting against the evening sun.

“He’s not worn out,” Viggo says. “He’s working through something. Just get it out, Ollie. You always feel better when you do.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter.

“Uh-huh.” He rocks onto the back legs of his chair, one hand flying on his phone, the other combing through his mangy beard that he refuses to cut. I should have never made that bet with him. “Sure you are.”

Frankie and Willa exchange glances.

“Actually,” Willa says, nudging Frankie gently. “Turns out I do want seconds.”

Frankie stands slowly and grips her cane. “Me, too.”

I sigh miserably as they leave. I know what a mass exodus of significant others means: an influx of Bergman brothers.

Axel plops down in the chair Willa just vacated. Rooney’s halfway across the yard in conversation with my sister Ziggy, both of them poised to join us, but they stop as Willa and Frankie say something to them. After a quick quiet conversation during which all eyes dart my way, they spin and slip back inside.

“What’s wrong with him?” Axel asks Viggo, direct as ever.

Viggo clears his throat, patting my back. “Ollie’s got some feelings to get out, and he’s being stubborn about sharing with the class.”

“Please drop it,” I say between clenched teeth.

Viggo makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat as he removes his hand, then focuses his attention on Axel, who’s best to catch up with when the group dynamic is small and you can chat with him one-on-one.

Hoping that maybe I’ve avoided a full-on brotherly intervention, that the ladies making an exit was just to give me some space, I zone out, leaning back in my chair, staring up at the lemon tree, until a shadow is cast over me.

“Aiden.” I drop back to earth in my chair.

My brother-in-law stands with his back to the low, glowing sun, shielding baby Theo from its light. He looks wiped and also dreamily happy. His thick, black nerd-frame glasses do nothing to hide his exhaustion, the half-moon shadows beneath his vivid blue eyes. Unshaven, he has dark, wavy hair just like Linnea’s, though streaks of silver now sparkle at his temples. His hair’s a little flat on one side, like he fell asleep on it that way and never fixed it when he woke up.

He smiles tiredly. “I had a feeling you could use another round of baby snuggles.”

I smile back, opening my arms and accepting Theo, who’s swaddled tight in a soft cream-colored blanket, a matching cap snug over his fuzzy white-blond hair. He fusses for a moment, then settles as I tuck him inside the crook of my arm and sway him with a steady rhythm. Aiden plops down in the seat beside me with a groan and slouches until his head falls back.

“Goodnight,” he mutters.

“Uh-huh,” I tell him. “Your true intentions are revealed.”

His eyes slip shut. “Just, like, five minutes. That’s all I need.”

Aiden’s snoring within seconds, which makes Viggo chuckle. He stands, grabs a piece of lettuce from Axel’s plate, and is about to tickle Aiden’s nose with it, but Axel slaps the lettuce out of his hand.