The Langfield Brothers: Box Set

12. Millie

TWELVE

MILLIE

Mom: Could you be any more selfish? You never call. You’re always too busy for me.

Chrishell: Where are we going to celebrate your brother’s huge win?

Taylor: This weekend is going to be EPIC!

Me: Sorry girls, I’m already back in Paris. Sienna needed me. But how are you both? I miss you!

Daniel: Please tell me you’ll be back this summer so we can celebrate.

Daniel: Seriously. I miss you!

Me: Come to Paris. It’s amazing here.

Daniel: Will you introduce me to any of your hot friends?

Me: No. My only friends are gay men and Sienna.

Daniel: I don’t mind a little age gap.

Me: Ha, pretty sure the owner of your team will mind if you sleep with his sister.

Daniel: Eh, true. Probably best not to mix business and pleasure. I’ll come to Paris in a few weeks.

Me: YAY! Okay, send me your flight info when you get it. Can’t wait to see you.

Daniel: Same.

Me: And I miss you too

“Who has you smiling?” Sienna asks as she looks up from her sketch. At any given time, the short brunette with the green eyes can be seen with a sketchbook in hand. That way, when inspiration strikes, she’s ready. Kind of like how I’m always jotting down lyrics or tunes that pop into my head.

Lyrics that will never be read. Songs that will never be sung. At least her doodles are worth something.

“Just my brother.”

My brother is the only person who’s ever interested in talking to me. My mother likes to talk at me, my so-called friends only text when they think they can get something from me. And my father barely checks in anymore.

Pushing the negative thoughts out of my mind, I put the phone down and go back to checking the inventory list for Sienna’s next show. We’re in the warehouse, surrounded by clothing.

My life has been nonstop since I moved to Paris. Sienna doesn’t take a breath. The woman is always plotting, always thinking, always marketing. She’s got the next ten years mapped out, while I don’t even know what I want for dinner tonight.

Once her show premiered, Sienna offered me a full-time position as her assistant. Since I had nothing to go home to, the answer was easy.

With the end of her pencil caught between her teeth, she studies the sketch she’s working on, frowning. “Brothers are fun,” she says, her tone dry.

“Yeah, he’s going to come out in a few weeks. It will be nice to spend time with him. Daniel and I have always been close, so it’s been hard being so far apart.”

“Are you close with your other brother too?” She stands from the couch and wanders over to a table we’ve set up with a makeshift coffee station.

“Paul is…” I worry my lip, pondering a polite way to describe him. “Unmotivated.”

Sienna smiles. “So nothing like you and Daniel.”

I shrug. “Neither of us is like Daniel. Since the day he first put on a pair of skates, he’s been driven to become a pro hockey player. And now he is.”

Sienna laughs. “Oh, I get the hockey thing. And the sports thing. My family lives and breathes it.”

I ignore the mention of her family because that will only send me down a tailspin thinking about her brother. And about the ridiculous text message I sent last night. God, what was I thinking?

I can’t think about her brother. He’s the only thing I’ve thought about for more than a year. Something must be wrong with me.

“You ever play any sports?”

She scrunches her nose. “Does this face look like it’s ever been touched by sports?”

Of course not. Sienna’s skin is porcelain white, all her features dainty.

“I miss my brothers too.” She settles beside me again and hands me a cup of coffee. “I barely got to see them after the game, and I don’t know when I’ll make it back to Boston again.”

“Do you regret moving to Paris?”

Sienna turns to face me, her eyes wide. “God, no. Do you?”

The answer should be easy. I should be ecstatic to be here, to be involved in what she’s creating. But outside of work and Sienna, I don’t have much tethering me to this city. And I can’t get her brother off my mind, even if he’s made it clear that there’s no possibility of a future for us. “I don’t regret it. But I do miss home.”

Sienna nods. “That’s the difference between you and me. This is my home.” She pats me on the knee. “Come on, let’s finish up here, and then I’ll take you to my favorite restaurant. I’m making it my mission to get you to fall in love with this city just like I did.”

It’s after ten p.m. when I’m finally slogging my way up the steps to my apartment. The whole world has grand illusions about what it’s like to live in Paris. Like every balcony has a beautiful view of the Eiffel tower and that fresh croissants and cappuccinos are hand delivered every morning. That has not been my experience. My apartment is tiny. It’s furnished with a bed and a two-person table. Nothing more. There isn’t room for more. The kitchenette isn’t much bigger than the minuscule closet. There’s no room for a couch or even an armchair for visitors.

Not that I’d have visitors. I work all day, then come home and crash, and that’s how it’s been for the past year.

Keeping up with Sienna is an impossible task. Even if I find the time to go out, I spend most of it on my phone working because Sienna never stops.

Tonight, all I can think about is crawling into bed and falling asleep. And maybe sleeping for the next twenty-four hours. She’s giving me the weekend off now that we’re finished setting up for next week. After flying back and forth from Boston to Paris in only two days, I need it.

And I need to sleep so I can stop thinking about Gavin and that damn text message from last night. I don’t know what I was thinking.

You weren’t , my mind taunts. I saw him in his suit out on the ice, holding up the Stanley Cup, smiling wide and looking beautiful, and I ached for him.

I’m sure he never even saw my last message. He was probably out celebrating and is sleeping off a hangover now. Maybe with someone else in his bed.

God, that thought makes my stomach turn.

It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t still want him.

It’s been over a year.

But the moment I saw him, every emotion that plagued me for months after we met came rushing back.

At the top of the stairs, I stop short, and my heart races. Because there’s a figure slumped against my door. The dim light of the hallway casts him in shadow, making it impossible to get a look at his face as I take a step back and dig my phone out of my pocket, prepared to call my landlord. The building door was locked when I came in, but this man found his way inside regardless. Shit.

“Peaches?”

The voice is scratchy, but I’d know it anywhere, and that one word sends my heart tumbling.

“Gavin?” I turn on my phone’s flashlight and shine it in his direction.

With a hand shielding his eyes, he stumbles to his feet, but he doesn’t move closer.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

As I get a good look at him, my stomach somersaults. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that strains against his muscles. His hair is mussed and falling forward a bit, making it look longer than it did yesterday when it was slicked back and styled for the game. Disheveled or not, he looks hella sexy. And when he smiles at me, his eyes crinkling and his teeth showing, I know I’m screwed. He’s just as gorgeous as always, maybe more so, and just as off-limits.

“I have no fucking idea.”

A huff of a laugh escapes me, even as my heart pounds. “You flew all the way to Paris, tracked down my apartment, and waited outside my door for?—”

“Three hours.”

My breath catches. “ Three hours?” I shake my head. “You did all that, and you don’t know why you’re here?”

Gavin shrugs as he steps closer.

I step back but hit the wall because the place is tiny. Might have mentioned that already.

“You’re here,” he says, coming another step closer, then another.

The lump in my throat threatens to cut off my air as I take him in up close. He’s so much taller than me, and he’s completely filled the space. His body, his scent, his heat, and that damn small smile.

“I am here,” I admit.

“I couldn’t stand being where you weren’t.” His words are a vise around my heart, squeezing so tight that I’m dizzy.

“What does that mean?”

Gavin shakes his head and licks his lips. “I don’t know that either. I just—I wanted to see you, so I got on a plane, and here I am.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks, his head tilting in surprise.

I suck in a breath and take a step forward. I don’t have the first clue where we go from here other than inside. “Yeah, okay.”

Gavin steps to one side, allowing me to pass him. I watch him as I go, afraid he’ll disappear if I look away. I only turn my focus forward when he follows me. And he follows me closely. Like maybe he’s afraid I’m the one who’ll disappear. He’s so close as I unlock the door, I can feel the heat radiating off him.

The second I step inside, nerves swamp me. The last time we were together in a small space, it was his place, and honestly, small isn’t an adjective I’d use to describe his penthouse. But when he squeezes my shoulder, his warmth seeps into me, assuaging some of my anxiety. For a moment, I close my eyes and just breathe. I don’t care what he thinks of the place. I honestly don’t give a fuck about anything other than the feel of Gavin Langfield’s hand on me.

He flew here on a whim.

He’s here.

I can’t wrap my head around that thought.

But I open my eyes and force myself to move.

“Are you hungry?” I step away and flip on the light in the kitchenette. If I have any chance of surviving the next hour, or of not getting naked and begging him to fuck me, then I need some space.

“No. I’m okay. I’m sure you’re tired.”

I turn around and face him, finally getting my fill. He’s so big in my space. Wide. Real. “The last thing I am is tired.”

He smirks for the first time since he got here. It’s the first time I’ve seen that expression in a year. God, I missed it— I missed him .

Sweet Gavin has always been my kryptonite, but cocky Gavin , smirking Gavin ? He’s my fucking undoing.

“Maybe a drink?” I pull open the fridge, forcing my attention away from that beautiful smirk. Even as I focus on anything but him, I can feel him watching me.

“Peaches.” My name is like a sigh on his lips.

I suck in a deep breath and garner all the courage I have before I look his way. God, that nickname. “Yeah?”

“I haven’t touched you in 461 days. Please get the fuck over here and let me hold you.”

There is no hesitation. No second thoughts. My body knows it belongs in his arms. So I slam the fridge closed and practically barrel into him, settling my head against his chest. Breathing deep, I close my eyes and listen to his heart beat out a rhythm that matches mine.