Awake At Dawn (Wildflower Series Book 2)
Awake At Dawn: Chapter 3

JULY TWENTY-EIGHTH. I was going to mark it on my Minnesota State Fair calendar—the day I finally got Gemma Briggs’ number.

I’d asked Julian for his sister’s number repeatedly, on more than one occasion and over the span of more than a few years. But today, I finally got it.

I wasn’t delusional, though. Gemma gave me her number because she needed something from me, and I needed something from her. It was transactional, practical, and it needed to stay that way.

Did I just shoot myself in the foot where Gemma was involved? No doubt about it. Despite having her number, I just moved her further into the off-limits territory by making her my roommate-dog-sitter-part-time-niece-nanny.

But Gemma needed help, and this was a way I could help her. I wanted to be someone that could help people. Julian might not like that I was doing this behind his back, but I hoped in the long run he would see that I was trying to support his sister in the same way he might. In the same way I might support my own siblings if more of them were here.

“Are you going to date Coach B?”

I sighed, watching as Chloe licked the rim of her ice cream cone, desperately trying to keep it from melting down the sides despite the sun blasting on us as we walked back to my apartment.

“No,” I said decisively. “I’m not going to date Coach B, Little Lo.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not little anymore.”

“You’re little to me.”

Chloe scoffed before turning her chin up and giving me a stern glare. “Why?”

“Because I have a couple feet and a hundred some pounds on you.”

“No.” She groaned dramatically. “Why aren’t you going to date Coach B?”

I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy to escape the subject of Gemma and our number exchange.

“Coach B doesn’t want to date me.”

Coach B wanted a place to live—that was it.

“Have you asked her?” Chloe persisted.

“Well, no,” I admitted.

“You should ask her,” Chloe said with the definitive note of a girl who had spent far too much time as an only child.

“We’ll see, Lo,” I laughed. “Don’t count on it.”

I thought about telling her what I did ask Coach B but decided against it. There was a good chance Gemma would say no to my idea, and then I’d have to let down a hopeful Chloe. Nothing was worse than that.

Gemma told me to sleep on it, but I didn’t need to. Hell, I’d already sent her my address so she could look up the location and told her to let me know if she wanted to come over and see the place. She hadn’t responded—not a good sign.

With a glance down at my niece, I stifled a laugh as she tried to clean her sticky fingers on a napkin that was making more of a mess than helping. Luckily, we were only another block from home, and as soon as we entered my apartment, I pointed at the sink. I already had puppy paw marks all over the place; I didn’t need sticky kid hands, too.

“Where’s Winnie?” she asked excitedly as soon as her hands were clean.

“I’ve got to take her out,” I said. “Wanna come?”

Chloe nodded with enthusiasm as she followed me to get the little rascal. I let Lo harness Winnie and take the leash as we wandered to the pet area on the rooftop of my building. We stayed up there for an hour, letting Winnie run free before the heat became unbearable, and we retreated into the air-conditioned building again.

Deciding that was enough activity for a Sunday, I threw on the TV and kicked back while Chloe continued to play with the furry tornado in my living room. Periodically, I checked my phone and shoved down the disappointment whenever I saw that Gemma hadn’t replied to my text yet.

When my sister showed up around five o’clock, she noticed my preoccupation.

“Waiting for a text?” she asked, leaning against my kitchen countertop in her scrubs. With her honey-colored hair falling out of her messy bun and her dead-tired expression, you’d think she’d be too exhausted to give me shit. But no, of course that wasn’t the case. “A girl?”

“Yes,” I drawled, “technically, I am waiting for a text from a girl, but it isn’t what you think.”

Nat pressed her lips together with a little hum of disbelief.

I sighed. After a glance at the living room to check that Chloe and Winnie were still passed out on the couch together, I asked Nat what she thought about my idea to have Lo’s skating instructor move in for the football season.

To say the conversation came as a shock to Nat was an understatement.

“Wow,” she said once I was finished. “I didn’t realize you knew Gemma.”

“I didn’t realize she was the same person as Coach B until today,” I replied with a shrug. “I usually wait for Lo outside the rink.”

Nat nodded, and I could see the wheels turning in her head while she quietly considered what I’d told her. It was making me nervous.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Nat?” I asked when I couldn’t bear it anymore.

My sister heaved a sigh. “Well, I think Gemma’s pretty great. I mean…I don’t know her well, but I’ve watched her at Chloe’s practices the last couple of weeks. She’s definitely worlds better than the lady who was coaching when Lo first started. And knowing that she’s Julian’s sister makes me feel that much more comfortable with her. If she’s willing to help out with Chloe, that would be amazing. I don’t have a lot of other options right now.”

Relief spread through me, more palpable than I would have thought. I really didn’t want Nat to hate my idea. And her liking Gemma was a step in the right direction. Although, there was still something Nat wasn’t saying.

I raised a brow. “I’m waiting for the but.”

Nat pinned me with a look. And then she started drumming her fingers on the countertop.

“She’s also very pretty,” she said finally.

My stomach soured.

“I’m aware,” I said, trying to keep that sourness out of my voice.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Nat laughed dryly.

Great. If my own sister didn’t even trust me to keep it in my pants, could I even really blame Julian when he tried to keep me away from his sister? Jesus.

“It’s not like that,” I grunted. “It’s just a mutually beneficial situation.”

“Uh-huh.” The corner of Nat’s mouth tugged up in a half-smirk. “I know of other things that can be mutually beneficial, too.”

“Well, we’re not going to do those things, Nat,” I said through clenched teeth. “She’s Julian’s sister.”

I wasn’t sure what bothered me more: that I had to commit to not touching Gemma Briggs for the next few months or that I had to convince my sister that I was capable of it.

“Okay.” Nat nodded, her voice taking on a singsongy quality. “If you say so.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I say so.”

After keeping me waiting for a whole twenty-four fucking hours, Gemma texted me back.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: Thanks for sending that information over!

Are you always this notoriously bad at texting, or are you reserving that for me?

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: What are you talking about?

I sent you that an entire day ago.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: That was actually a pretty good turn around as far as I’m concerned.

So you ARE notoriously bad at texting. That makes me feel better.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: I was giving you time to sleep on it.

I don’t need time to sleep on it.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: Well, maybe I needed time to sleep on it.

You could have slept on it after texting me back.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: Are you always this notoriously argumentative, or are you reserving that for me?

I don’t think argumentative is the word you’re looking for.

More… impatient.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: Ah, not used to having to wait for girls to text you back, huh?

I winced at her reply and how it was, well, true. When I texted girls, they typically replied immediately. And then they usually never left me alone, as was evidenced by the slew of unread text messages in my phone from just today.

I don’t know how to reply to that without sounding like a cocky asshole.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: I think it’s too late.

Damn. So… how would you like to live with a cocky asshole?

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: I was thinking we should talk some more first.

Sure. Why don’t you come on over, and then you can see the place, too.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: Okay, yeah. That sounds good.

Tomorrow morning?

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: You really are impatient.

8am? 9am?

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: You’re lucky I’m an early riser, Noah.

8:00 it is.

I couldn’t say why I was so impatient to solidify this deal with Gemma, but I wanted her to agree to our arrangement really fucking bad. It would just be nice to have someone I trusted around so I wouldn’t have to worry about Winnie or Lo when I was out of town. That was it—nothing else.

I had no other reason, absolutely no other reason, for really wanting Gemma Briggs to move in with me.

Winnie bolted for Gemma as soon as I opened the door, and it saved me from having to form a coherent greeting.

Just one look at her, and I was rethinking everything.

Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. Maybe, although I hated to admit it, Nat was right; Gemma was way too fucking pretty to be allowed anywhere near me. This morning, she wore an airy white sundress that made her look like a goddamn angel. Her long, coppery hair looked so soft as it fell around her shoulders, and fuck, I just wanted to bury my fingers in it.

I was so screwed—so wildly screwed.

All I could do was gape at Gemma as she entered the apartment. Luckily, she didn’t seem bothered, flashing a wide grin at me before dropping down to coo at Winnie and scoop the wiggling puppy into her arms.

“Oh, I love her,” she laughed, her smile lighting up the goddamn room.

I cleared my throat. “She seems to love you, too.”

Gemma’s eyes rolled up with that little bit of sass I’d seen from her before. “She’s a puppy. Pretty sure she loves everyone.”

“Nah.” I shrugged off the lie; Winnie definitely loved everyone she’d met so far. “I made coffee. Want some?”

“I would love—” She stopped midsentence, wincing. “No, that’s okay.”

“You sure?” A chuckle slipped out of me at her mixed message. “You know, if you’re that worried I’m trying to poison you, that might be something we should discuss before you move in.”

“No.” Gemma shook her head, and I was grateful to see her smile emerge again. “That’s not it.”

I frowned, considering what else it might be. I tried again. “Well, if Julian told you I’m bad in the kitchen, he was lying through his teeth. I made his ass dinner all the time in college, and he wasn’t complaining then.”

Winnie took that moment to lick the side of Gemma’s face, and the beauty in my front entryway responded with an adorable peal of laughter that trailed into her words. “Believe it or not, Julian has not mentioned your skills as a chef or a barista.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” I mumbled before leading Gemma to the kitchen. She set Winnie down on the ground while I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it up. Then I watched her pointedly over the rim of the coffee cup as I let the black drug slide down my throat.

Gemma stared, not backing down from the tension that suddenly simmered up, her gaze bright as she lifted one brow and tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. Heat coiled in my gut.

“Are you trying to prove it’s not poisonous right now?” she asked finally.

“Maybe.” I swallowed hard, putting the cup on the counter again. “Did it work?”

“Pretty effective technique,” she said with a nod, her eyes flicking to my mouth as if assessing whether my lips were about to turn blue or if foam would appear. Or maybe there was another reason; I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t want to think too much about that. “But I’m trying to…cut down on my caffeine intake, and I’m guessing that’s not decaf.”

“You would be right,” I admitted, a twinge of regret coating my reply. “What about something else? Let me grab you a water at the very least.”

“Water would be great.” She smiled politely, and I rushed to pour her a glass, setting it in front of her. She took a sip, and my eyes swept over her, curious.

“An early morning riser without even a lick of caffeine, huh?”

“Well…” Gemma fidgeted, twirling her thumbs between her clasped hands. “I actually wanted to—” She broke off again, her eyes growing wide this time with alarm. With panic. She clapped a hand to her mouth, muffling her one-word plea. “Bathroom?”

“Shit,” I sputtered, jumping into action as I ushered Gemma down the hall. I flung up the toilet cover as we dove into the bathroom, thanking the Lord I’d cleaned my porcelain throne before she came over because, sure enough, a second later, Gemma’s face was buried inside it as she purged whatever breakfast she had this morning.

By the sound of it, it wasn’t much. Actually, it sounded a lot like she didn’t have anything in her stomach at all. Poor girl.

I stepped into the bathroom behind her, pulling her hair back from her face and ignoring the way she slapped at my legs to try to make me leave. When I’d thought about burying my fingers in her hair earlier, this wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.

With her head still in the toilet, Gemma flung a few garbled words at me—ones I ignored because they were telling me to get out. I couldn’t get myself to do that, not when she had a white-knuckle grip on the toilet bowl and a trickle of tears streaming down her face. I wasn’t squeamish. It was sort of a trait in our family, considering how Nat and Blake cut open bodies for a living.

With a gentle hush, I dropped to the floor behind Gemma, stroking her back. She shivered before leaning into my touch slightly, trying to catch her breath. It took a minute or two before she finally lifted her head and peeked back at me.

I flashed her an apologetic look. “I really hope you believe me when I say I didn’t poison the water.”

“I believe you.” She laughed weakly, wiping at her eyes before attempting a smile. It was wobbly at best. “Because there’s something I actually wanted to talk to you about. You know, in case you don’t want to share your apartment with a girl who spends most of her mornings sitting in front of a toilet.”

I felt my eyes grow wide. “Are you…sick?” I asked before biting down on my tongue because, obviously, she was sick—in some way, shape, or form. Hopefully not in a serious way, though.

Or maybe not, considering how Gemma immediately shook her head with a wry twist of her lips.

“No, I’m not sick.”

She blinked up at me, and her watery eyes seemed extra blue all of a sudden.

“I’m pregnant.”

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