Emmett stares at me like he’s waiting for me to elaborate, but I don’t want to. He lifts an eyebrow. I look away, concentrating on the ridiculous topiary. “What happened to Diana’s kid?”
“He’s with his father.”
Emmett nods his head. I see it in his shadow because I still won't look at him. "So not that dude she was engaged to? The actual father?"
I nod.
“Tate Garrison?” Emmett says his name and I flinch. I don’t mean to, it’s an involuntary act but it’s a tell as obvious as a neon sign.
I slowly bring my eyes up to my younger brother’s. I blink. He lets out a long slow breath. “Shit. I fucking knew it.”
“How did you know it?”
Emmett chuffs out a confident laugh. “Mal, I can do math. She would have had to get knocked up the second she got off the plane to have it be the British dude’s baby. And Garrison was her constant bed buddy for like two years. Everyone in Silver Bay knew that.”
“Emmett, you cannot tell Mom and Dad!” I whisper as if we’re being eavesdropped on. “You can’t tellanyone. Tate is just now able to tell his parents and his team.”
“So you came here to deliver the kid to Garrison?” Emmett replies, ignoring my pleas. “And now you’re staying?”
“I like California and I’m… I’m staying with Dylan, as his nanny.” I can’t bring myself to say I’m dating Tate. I don’t know why.
Emmett looks shocked and his jaw drops for a second. “You are Garrison’s nanny?”
“No. I’m Dylan’s nanny.”
“You’re working for your bestie’s bed buddy? The dude you had a crush on in junior high?” Emmett is laughing at me. Not outwardly, but inwardly. I can see it in his eyes and the way he’s smirking. “Between Beck taking back that nightmare Heather and you setting yourself up for heartbreak over here, it’s finally official. I’m the only well-adjusted Echolls kid.”
“Shut up,” I snap, feeling like the little girl who used to get teased by both her brothers all the time growing up. “I’m not some lovesick stalker girl chasing her childhood crush across the country! I owed it to Diana to get Dylan to his dad. The only person who wanted him, by the way. And Tate and I are?—”
“Friends.” Emmett rolls his eyes at the word. “Yeah. I know. You have been saying that for years. But Mal, you aren’t supposed to want to bang your friends.”
I blush and Emmett laughs, taking it as a sign of guilt. He puts a hand on my shoulder again but this time it feels condescending, not compassionate. I shrug it off. "Nice seeing you, Emmett. I hope Tate wipes the ice with your team."
I turn and start to stomp off. “Mal, wait!”
I only make it a few feet and then he’s a wall in front of me. His dark curly hair rustling in the breeze and his expression contrite. “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not making fun of you.”
“Spoiler alert: It feels like you are.”
He smiles guiltily. "I'm sorry. I'm just protective of you. Honestly, that's all it is."
“I’m a big girl, Em,” I promise him. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m not going to get hurt.”
I'm not. Tate and I are on the same page. And in a couple months, we'll head home together, as a couple, for the hockey summer break—hopefully with a Stanley Cup ring on his finger—and they'll all see how happy we are. Then maybe everyone will stop treating me like a confused child.
“Just don’t let Garrison take advantage, Mal,” Emmett warns. “The guy doesn’t make it a secret he’s not into commitment, and that’s fine, but don’t fool yourself into thinking he’s gonna be different with you if he hits on you.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I just want this conversation to end.
He stares at me for a heartbeat and then nods and pulls me into a hug. “You’re right. I’m being one of those overprotective jackass brothers I hate. I know you can handle yourself. And besides, you wouldn’t want Diana’s leftovers. That would be weird.”
Ouch.
He lets go of me and takes a step back. “Bye Em.”
"Later, Mal." He starts walking backward slowly, away from me in the direction his teammates disappeared. "Will you pick up the phone if I call now?"
I nod give him a wave and watch him disappear into the crowd. My walk to the car is decidedly less upbeat than it would have been had I not run into my brother. I want to text Tate and tell him about running into Emmett and ask why he didn’t tell me he was playing Emmett. But I know he’s dealing with the team management this afternoon and also, I should have known the hockey schedule. And if I picked up any of my parents’ calls lately, they’d have likely mentioned Emmett’s road trip. They always talk about him, especially Dad.
