Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(71)

“She’s asleep on the couch,” Aisha says when I arrive at half past nine. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” I cross the hallway, heading straight to the living room.

“Chill out,” she mutters, trailing behind me. “She’s on her period. Are you staying the night?”

I was going to take her back to my place, but Mia’s curled on the sofa, cuddling a pillow. “Looks like I am. Why?” I grab a blanket from the back of the couch, cover her up, and gently pull her into me, my chest replacing the pillow.

“No reason,” Aisha says, biting back a smile. I can tell there’s a solid reason she doesn’t want to share. “I’m heading out, that’s all. I’ll stay the night at Toby’s, so don’t expect me back.”

“Won’t miss you.”

“I have a feeling you might,” she chuckles, flinging a bag over her shoulder. “Have fun. Oh, and don’t think I forgot about the night out. We postponed it, but it’s happening in a couple of weeks.”

“As I said. Q, a bouncer, and I take Mia there and back.”

“We’ll see about that,” she chirps, already halfway down the hallway. “I have a plan.”

I bet she does.

Mia stirs, cuddling into me harder as if she feels my presence even asleep. She holds a hand across my chest, fisting the t-shirt, one leg bent at her knee and resting on my thighs.

I settle for a movie, ghosting my fingers up and down her arm and growing concerned over my mental health.

It can’t be normal that every muscle in my body tenses painfully whenever Mia’s not well. The fucked-up part of my character, the controlling, overprotective part, is harder to tame as the days go by... as my feelings morph from infatuation to something dangerously close to love.

Half the time, I fight my paranoia, assuring myself Mia doesn’t require constant supervision. That she won’t pull stupid stunts for attention, won’t encourage men to touch her.

My jaw clenches, and my temper flares. I derail that train of thought, focusing back on the movie.

Halfway through The Wolf of Wall Street, someone enters the house. Aisha left in heels, and whoever just entered isn’t click-clacking toward the living room.

My hold on Mia tightens while I listen to the footsteps and what sounds like something being dragged across the tiled floor. I’m ready to flip Mia over and beat the living shit out of whoever walked in, but five seconds later, I’m tense for a whole different reason.

Mia’s father stops at the mouth of the corridor, eyes on me, eyebrow raised, small suitcase in hand.

“Hey, Jimmy,” I say quietly.

He scans the room, tilting his head like a curious dog. “Hey to you, too.” Two deep wrinkles mark his forehead when he spots Tylenol on the coffee table. He walks in further, leaving his suitcase by the wall. “Is she unwell?”

“You could say that.”

His frown deepens before his face flashes with recognition. “PMS, right? It’s the VWD that makes it worse. She told you about that, didn’t she?”

I conducted comprehensive research on the topic after Mia’s twenty-four-minute-long nosebleed. I stayed up for hours after she fell asleep, reading every study about Von Willebrand available online, then asked Mia a hundred questions over breakfast. Now, I’m prepared for any situation.

While reading up about the disease, I found an article that mentioned PMS, so I know Mia’s contraceptive implant lessens the severity of her periods. Needless to say, I’m no longer opposed to her having that thing.

“She did,” I say, trying not to wake Mia as I untangle myself from her hold and cover her with a blanket.

“So you’re the boyfriend...” Jimmy muses when I approach to shake his hand. “I gotta tell you, I wouldn’t have guessed if I had a million tries.”

“I didn’t realize she told you about me.”

“She didn’t. She said she’s bringing her boyfriend over for the Grand Prix next month but wouldn’t tell me who he is.” He moves to the living room, taking care not to make much noise as he grabs two crystal glasses and a bottle of bourbon out of the drinks cabinet.

Looks like we’re drinking.

“I expected a Hayes... just not you,” he continues. “I assumed it was one of the triplets, and I prayed it’s not Cody. No offense, but that kid gets on my nerves like nobody’s business.” He pulls a bag of ice from the freezer.

I move one barstool to the side of the island where I’ve got a better view of Mia. “Cody’s very talented when it comes to getting on people’s nerves. Why do you think she didn’t tell you who I am?”

“She knows we’re friends. I guess she wanted to surprise me,” he chuckles, pouring bourbon over ice, before sliding a glass across the counter toward me. “And boy, am I fucking surprised. I never pegged you for the type.”

“Neither did I,” I admit, my guards safely in place.

He might act cool but let’s face the facts. I’ve been friends with the guy for three years. We went out together more than once. I saw a few women stick their tongues down his throat or grip his dick through his pants, and he sure saw a few chicks dry hump me at the club.

This now is the first time I’ve ever felt awkward...