Into You Series: The Complete Collection

21. Nia

CHAPTER 21

NIA

I ’ve been leaning on the railing overlooking the parking lot for at least thirty minutes, maybe more. Maybe less than that? Who knows; time has begun to blur.

I glance down at my phone, peering over the texts Ian and I have exchanged tonight. The most recent states they’re on the way back. It’s the message immediately preceding that one that I keep mentally stumbling over.

I miss you, Polly.

Shit.

Corinne stayed with me after the boys left for their night on the town and we watched television. We settled on the Florida channel with repeating advertisements for boardwalk Ferris wheels and local putt-putt courses. There was even a vampire-themed putt-putt. It’s the middle of July, but sure, why not?

I wonder if the boys ended up going to a strip club. I believe Harry would surely balk at that, but then again, maybe he wouldn’t. I don’t want to picture my baby brother getting lap dances from naked women. He’s named after Harry Houdini, for God’s sake. That fact alone should halt a woman in her tracks. I’m pretty sure my parents’ creative juices were spent when they named the last of us. Thanks a lot, guys.

I lean my head on the cool railing. Do I trust Ian to watch over them? Maybe I do. He doesn’t drink for some unknown reason, but whatever the case, he’s dedicated to the cause. When Ian says he’s going to do something, he sticks to his guns and rarely strays from the path. The motivation of that man is incomparable to anyone else, and while I’ve always believed Harry was the purest of heart, I’m starting to wonder if Ian is giving him a run for his money.

For years, Ian has been nothing but a nuisance to me, and I’ve always considered that to be pure entertainment for him. But, has he really liked me? Has he loved me?

No, what a ridiculous notion. I’ve been the one pining after him, not the other way around. Because, if it were the other way around, how would I feel then?

I don’t know.

The door opening from behind me makes me jump.

“You doing okay?” Corinne asks through a yawn. I nod in response and she leans on the railing next to me. “You don’t seem okay.”

“I’m worried,” I admit.

“About your brothers or about Ian?” She says it in a teasing tone, but I answer honestly.

“Both.”

A pregnant pause lingers between us and she lets out a sharp laugh. “Huh.”

“Huh?”

“Well, it’s interesting,” she says, twisting her mouth to the side. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

I exhale. “Me either.”

Cameron’s hulking Jeep pulls into the lot and my heart rises into my throat. I feel like I’m going to both vomit and pass out all at once. I just imagine my brain yelling, Alright, shut her down, folks! And honestly it might be for the best if I just fell over right now, ignorant of the world.

The car door on the rear driver’s side opens, and Wes falls out. His groan when his hands hit the pavement is audible even from here. There’s one. Cam follows suit, his hand placed on Wes’s shoulder like some drunken conga line. Two. Then there’s Harry, laughing one of his belly laughs reserved for good company. Thank God. Three. From the front passenger seat stumbles the much-too-old-for-this swaying figure of Grant. Four. He seems drunk, but that’s to be expected. He doesn’t look as weary as when he arrived this afternoon. The driver’s door opens, and a long and muscled leg extends out. My heart pounds louder, and it’s a wonder Corinne can’t hear it trying to beat out of my chest. Ian. Five.

We rush to the elevator and I press the button, convinced it’s broken based on how long it’s taking to arrive. No matter how many times I signal it, the light is still the taunting, dull orange. It finally arrives and, with more feverish button-mashing, rumbles down to the ground floor. Grace definitely lied when she said this was a five-star resort.

The doors slide open and there they all are. Harry is still laughing, and he’s helping support Cam and Wes with their arms thrown over his shoulders. Wes is an especially big man, but Harry can go toe to toe with him in stature, so the cooperation looks effortless. Ian is single-handedly dragging Grant by his side, and the smile upon my brother’s face is genuine and unfazed by the fact that he can barely walk.

Ian and I lock eyes, and it feels like something I’ve never experienced with him—or at least not in a few years…

His eyes cut through to me like a stab directly into my chest; I feel the dagger sinking in, driving deeper, and, like I’m close to death, I’m at a loss for breath.

“Polly, I have delivered,” he says.

“What are you, a pizza man?”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Why? Is that a scenario you’re interested in?”

Irresistible man.

We ride up the elevator with most of the men groaning the whole way and Ian next to me near the back. I can smell the sweat, cigar smoke, and sand. The outside of his palm bumps mine when Grant shifts beside him. The heat rising from his body warms me. I’ve experienced a lot of the ocean’s cool night breeze and his touch is comforting, like the blanket of Georgia humidity, a feeling of home wrapping over me once more.

“I want to barf,” Cameron groans. It jerks me out of my thoughts, and Wes grunts in what sounds like agreement.

“Almost there.” Ian’s tone is deep, and it’s obvious he’s been in command all night. The low voice is intoxicating, running over me, sending nerves coursing throughout.

He adjusts Grant hanging from his side by shrugging my brother’s arm farther up on his shoulder. Grant leans in to grumble something inaudible to him and Ian laughs.

“Dude, thank you,” Harry whispers. Even from the opposite side of the elevator, his breath reeks of alcohol and flat soda. I sniff to see if maybe I can smell anything resembling a strip club, but then I remember I have no clue what strip clubs smell like.

“Don’t forget you promised me you would cut your hippie hair earlier tonight,” Ian says. “I’m holding you to it.”

“I don’t remember that.” Harry squints at him. The squint must be too much to handle, because he ends up closing his eyes the rest of the way.

“He didn’t promise that, did he?” Grant asks.

“Nah,” Ian says.

“You devil,” Grant growls.

Ian’s return smile is kind and gentle. There are no judgments, no sneers, no nose pointing at the ceiling in disgust at everyone’s sloppy behavior. Instead, he’s joking with my brothers, and it looks so natural. I’ve never seen Harry or Grant mesh so well with anyone outside our immediate family. It’s jarring, but my chest feels warm.

We proceed out of the elevator with the grace of newborn giraffes exiting a clown car. Wes waves goodbye and somehow finds the correct hotel room. After he stumbles inside, I count once more. There’s Corrine and me plus the four men left.

Cameron’s index fingers massage his temples, making him look like a caricature of a mind reader.

“Are you trying to remember your room number?” Ian asks.

“It’s here somewhere,” Cameron slurs, peering to each room on the hall. “I’m going to wake Grace up, aren’t I?”

“I am totally on board with irritating Grace at one in the morning.” Ian laughs at his own idea and holds his hand out for Cameron to place the room key in his palm. Ian walks to the correct door and shoves him in. Three men left— my men.

“You two can stay in my room,” Ian says. “I think Nia needs some shut-eye tonight.”

“I won’t sleep anyway,” I say, putting my hands on my hips and eyeing the two drunk brothers with a shake of my head. “They can stay in my room.”

“Polly, you worry too much.” He chuckles. The sound sends flutters through my stomach, but I lift an eyebrow in protest.

“Yeah, Polly,” Grant slurs. “You’re a worrywart. Worry, worry, wart, wart.”

“Act your age, old man,” I shoot back, index finger extended as if I’m his mother instead of his younger sister. He holds his hands up.

“You can come with us,” Ian says. He finally meets my eyes again and it makes my stomach lurch, freezing over my insides until they’re ice cold and hardened. My nipples quickly follow suit, and I’m hoping my shirt is thick enough to hide them.

“Sure,” I agree. I agree?! Who am I? What am I getting myself into?

And why is lightning zipping through my every limb?

“If you need any help, just knock on my door,” Corinne says, making me jump. I had almost forgotten she was there.

She scans the card to her room. Then it’s only me and Ian—and two drunk men who need more drinks almost as much as I need to be alone with Ian Chambers.

Which is to say, absolutely not at all .