Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(91)

Viggo sizes him up, then offers a hand, which Gavin takes. A very intense staredown ensues. Their knuckles both turn white as they try to squeeze the life out of each other’s palms. “Just remember, I know where you live,” Viggo tells him.

“Good grief,” I mutter.

“Okay, that’s enough Godfather antics from you,” Aiden says, taking him by the shoulder and giving us a knowing grin as he drags Viggo down the steps with him.

Gavin glances over his shoulder, watching the mass exodus of cars happily honking as they pull out. “That was…”

“Embarrassing?”

“Intense,” he mutters, frowning thoughtfully. “Sweet. Funny. Weird.” He turns back and sets his gaze on me. “Sort of like you.”

“That’s it,” I tell him, shoving the door open behind me. “You’ve crossed a line. And now, we’re gonna take this inside.”

Gavin smirks and follows me in, drinking in the space as he shuts the door.

A wave of nervousness crests through me. “Will you… I mean, were you…” I clear my throat. “Did you want to stay?”

Gavin turns and looks at me curiously. “I mean… I thought… Yeah. Do you want me to stay?”

My heart pounds. “Yes. I do. If you want to. Stay, that is.”

Reaching up, he loosens his tie. Heat rushes through me as I stare at the hollow of his throat revealed when he yanks open the top two buttons, then drags his tie through his collar with a snap.

He looks agitated, confused. “I want to stay, yes.”

“Good. Great.” My voice cracks on the word as my cheeks heat. “Excellent.”

“My bag’s in the rental,” he says, pulling a key from his suit jacket’s pocket. “I’ll get it—”

“Let me.” I close the distance between us, pluck the key from his fingers. Backtracking, I tell him, “Explore, if you want. Just don’t look too close at the family photos. I had an awkward phase that started in first grade and didn’t end until sophomore year of high school.”

His mouth quirks in a faint smile. “I doubt that highly.”

“Believe it.” I nod my chin toward the wall of family photos before darting out to his car to grab his bag.

My heart bangs inside my ribs. I have a thousand thoughts, a million questions.

Why is he here? What does he want?

Does he want me?

By the time I walk back inside with his bag, Gavin’s got his suit jacket off, his shirt sleeves rolled up. I try not to stare at his bare forearms, sculpted muscles, tendons, and veins visible as he rests his hands in his pockets and walks leisurely down the hall, taking in the photos. “You are a nauseatingly photogenic bunch, aren’t you?”

“Blame Mom and Dad.”

He huffs a soft laugh, glancing my way. When he sees me with his bag, he strolls forward. “I’ll take that—”

“Wait.” I clutch it, searching his eyes. “I…”

I want you to stay in my room. I want you in my bed, cuddling and holding me.

I can’t admit that. Not when I don’t even know what the hell is going on. What if he’s here to do some official, formal, in-person passing of the captain baton? What if he just stopped by for a little R&R?

God, listen to me. I’m grasping at straws. Why else would he be here if he didn’t want me somehow? The truth is I’m too afraid to admit what I want, what I hope, as I stand there, staring at him, tongue-tied.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I…” Swallowing thickly, I lick my lips. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

His brow furrows. He answers slowly, “Sure. Yeah. That’d be good. Just nothing too technical. No hills.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “My back’s still shit. I’m only moving like this because Dr. Chen gave me an injection, but if I push too hard, I’ll pay for it.”

I try to keep my expression neutral, to not betray how surprised and touched I am that he’s confided in me about his pain, his needs, his limits. “Of course.”

“I should change, then,” he says, nodding at his bag, which I still hold.

“Right. Sure. Um…” I deliberate. There’s the first-floor suite, which my parents use when they’re here. Then there’s my room upstairs. Maybe, for now, as much as I don’t want to, I should take him to my parents’ room. Easier on his body. Accessible bathroom, including a shower bench. “This way,” I tell him.

Gavin follows me to the room, a faint frown tugging at his mouth as he inspects the space.

I glance around, too. The curtains are open, letting daylight spill in, revealing nature’s springtime masterpiece outside. Balmy wind whipping the trees, carrying blossoms with it in a colorful dance through the air. Tall evergreens. Tufts of lime-green grass dappling dark earth.

I notice the bed’s been stripped, the sheets changed, a different color than they were when we got here and I helped Mom make beds throughout the house. I try not to think too hard about what my parents were intending when they made a point of preparing this room for someone else.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

“No.” He shakes his head, taking his bag from me. “I’ll just change.”

“Okay. Sure. Right.” I back away, turn, and walk right into the wall. Mortified, I don’t even look over my shoulder to see if Gavin caught that; I just scramble to escape the room.