“I know, I know.” Maybe I’m stalling deliberately. Every time I fall asleep at my computer or sleep twelve hours when I’m normally good with seven, I think about how tired Mom was before she found out she had cancer. I think of Dad losing his battle. Maybe part of me knows that I need to take this seriously and I’m too scared of what I might find out.

I hear the front door open and the sounds of Easton and Abi’s voices as Carter lets them in.

Teagan flashes me a grin. “Carter said that Easton said you two watched a movie together Friday night,” she says in a conspiratorial whisper.

My cheeks burn at the memory of Easton on my couch. His hand. His wickedly dirty mouth. “What else did he tell him?”

She smirks. “Nothing that should make you blush like that. What happened? He told Carter you wanted to just be friends for now, but he’s putting all his cards on the table with your brothers. He wants more, and he wants them to know his intentions so he doesn’t have to deal with any ‘protective brother’ bullshit when he finally gets his shot with you.”

I know how Easton feels. He hasn’t exactly hidden his intentions. Yet hearing Teagan tell it like that gives me massive butterflies.

“Abigail!” Lilly’s scream is followed by the sound of little feet running on hardwood.

“No running in the house!” Nic calls.

“Lilly! I went shopping with my mom in Chicago this weekend. She took me to the American Girl Store and bought me a new doll. Do you like her?”

“She’s beautiful! I have one upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you. Did you like Chicago? I’ve been there before and it was just so big. There are so many people.”

“It’s nothing like L.A.,” Abi says. “There are even more people there.”

“No way.”

The sound of the girls’ chatter quiets as they head upstairs, and Teagan and I exchange smiles.

“They’re adorable together, aren’t they?” Easton says.

I spin and see him at the threshold to the dining room, his hands tucked into his pockets. He takes me in slowly, and those blue-green eyes darken. “Happy Easter, Easton,” I say. He looks . . . edible. Tailored black pants, a sky-blue oxford with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His forearms are a work of art, and my mouth goes dry as I ogle them and remember the muscles there bunching as he worked between my legs.

“Happy Easter.” His husky timbre is the stuff of wet dreams. Or maybe that’s the memory of what we did on my couch. Both. “Thanks for having us.”

“I’m not the one who invited you.”

His lips twitch. “This is true.”

“Easton,” Carter calls. “Do you still suck at pool? Come downstairs so I can kick your ass.”