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was throwing an all but giggling and giddy Bryn over a shoulder when I bolted off my stool. I might be over Bryn, but being a fly on the wall while one’s big brother was a set of stairs and one hallway away from getting it on with my former love interest was wrong on every level.
    “I’m outta here,” I said, knowing I’d be early, but it was late enough that, hopefully, Emma and Julia would be asleep by now. “Thanks for the dinner, Bryn.”
    “You liked it?” she asked, forcing her laughter to freeze frame.
    “You see any leftovers?” I replied, as William man-handled her out of the kitchen.
    “I made it, you know,” she said, and I didn’t need to see her face to know just how proud she was of herself.
    I don’t think I would have been more shocked if she’d just said she was preggers. “You went all Stepford on me, Bryn!” I hollered. “I didn’t take trophy wife as your thing, but from those mashed potatoes, I can see I was wrong.” I grinned despite William’s footsteps attacking the stairs. I loved few things more than giving someone, especially someone as easily baited as Bryn, a hard time.
    “Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to piss off a Taker?” she hollered back, before she shrieked, followed by another giggle.
    I was so out of here.
    “Have fun,” I muttered, partly grossed out, but mainly jealous. I wanted to be able to touch my woman like William could, was, at present, touching his. Hell, I would have been happy with one chaste kiss, but that was out of the question since I expected a full scale meltdown would ensue if Emma woke to find her boyfriend, who was supposed to be serving the last few weeks of his four month sentence, lurking in her bedroom.
    Speaking of lurking in her bedroom‌…‌
    God, I loved my gift. I could go from prison, to inhaling steak and apple pie at my brother and sister-in-law’s, to standing in the center of a dark room, staring at the girl who could take my breath away sporting a ratty Stanford tee and a high ponytail.
    I did a quick check over my shoulder to ensure the goddess of darkness wasn’t brewing a potion or stabbing a voodoo doll and sighed my relief when I found Julia’s bed empty. Maybe she was at her favorite cemetery, performing a séance or studying the existentialism of mankind.
    Turning back towards the bed I wanted to crawl into, I took a couple steps closer, kneeling beside her. She breathed the steady rhythm and wore the face of a person who didn’t fall asleep to nightmares.
    But Emma had nightmares. The kind that came from the horrors of real life. The kind that knew what a girl who’d watched her dad abuse her mom and had fallen into the same trap would run away screaming from most.
    Emma had always been a pro at hiding what she was really feeling deep inside. It was something she couldn’t let go of even while she slept. She could be having the sweetest of dreams, but I knew she likely wasn’t.
    Of course I was delirious enough to hope that recent events and her recent boyfriend acquisition might be changing that.
    She suddenly rolled onto her side so she was facing me. If I was gun-shy, I would have jolted, but I stayed right where I was, letting my eyes absorb as much of her face as I could. The perfect in its imperfection face I’d fallen for months ago. The only face I could ever love. I’d spend eternity alone if Emma one day woke up and decided I wasn’t it for her anymore.
    That scared the hell out of me, knowing some person other than myself had that kind of control over my life, but it was also kind of special. When I realized the world didn’t revolve around me‌—‌when I realized I wanted to live my life making someone else happy. It was oddly freeing.
    I was smiling like a damn fool, staring all dreamy eyed at a sleeping woman, but damn fool fit me pretty well.
    Emma’s hand was splayed over her pillow, her fingers curling just enough into the billowy fabric to give away that whatever dream or