“Sure. I’d love to stay. I want one of those ice cream things, though.”

  “There’s ice cream?” Emme bounces with excitement and then cringes a little.

  I mirror Dax’s smile as he mouths thank you. But my stomach twists with guilt over my motivations for agreeing to stay, and how they’re conflicting with what seems to be happening in my chest.

  Chapter Eleven

  Firsts

  Kailyn

  We make it halfway through the movie before Emme passes out on Dax’s shoulder, snoring softly.

  “I’m going to take her up to bed,” he whispers.

  “Want some help?”

  “Please.”

  I hold her head still while he slips an arm around her back and one under her knees. He grunts when he picks her up. “This was a lot easier when she was smaller.” He inclines his head to the stuffed llama on the couch. “Can you grab that?”

  I nab it, then rush up the stairs ahead of him so I can open her door and throw back her comforter. I leave Dax to settle her in bed, and wander down the hall in search of a bathroom.

  I peek in the next door down, flick on the light, and freeze. It’s an It’s My Life fangirl’s dream in there. A barely audible squeal bursts free, and I clamp a hand over my mouth, embarrassed.

  I’m standing in Daxton Hughes’s childhood bedroom. And it looks like a shrine to his teen years. A poster of him and the cast of It’s My Life is tacked to the far wall, Daxton front and center because he was the star of the show and the reason every teen girl was glued to her television from nine to ten p.m. every Tuesday night.

  I try and fail to keep from bouncing as I cross the room to get a better look. It occurs to me that the cast of the show would’ve been a lot like his family. I wonder if he’s kept in touch with them all these years, and if they have reunions, like high school.

  Daxton was such an adorable teenager. My infatuation with him was so consuming. I had all the posters, the DVDs, and of course the album that accompanied the Christmas movie prior to the final season.

  I pick up the old DVD case—teenage Dax smirks at me—then exchange it for the Dax Barbie doll perched on a stand, smoothing my thumb over his silky hair. It’s a couple of shades darker than it is in real life.

  “You found my mother’s trophy room.”

  I gasp and turn, hugging the doll to my chest. “I was looking for a bathroom.”

  His smile is exactly the same as it was in college, cocky, knowing, and he points to an open door on the other side of the room. “There’s one through there, but it hasn’t been cleaned in a while.”

  I glance around again, taking everything in. “There’s so much stuff in here.”

  “That show was my life for a long time.” Dax leans against the doorjamb. “No pun intended.”

  “Was it hard when it ended? You must have spent a lot of time with them.” I gesture to the poster of the entire cast.

  “I was with them more than my family while the show was in production. Most of us still keep in touch.” He looks a little wistful. I wonder what it’s like to be the center of so many teenage girls’ worlds for such a long time, just to trade it in for some normalcy.

  “Why did you stop acting? Was it because It’s My Life ended?”

  “Partly, I guess.” He pushes off the jamb and takes a few steps toward me. “After the show, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do anymore.”

  “You could’ve taken a new role, though?” I ask.

  “Sure. There were options, but it meant committing to a pilot, and if that went well a season, and who knew what would happen after that. It could flop or it could’ve been something that went on for another five years, and I wasn’t convinced I wanted to be locked into that, so my dad suggested I take a year off. Emme had just been born and my parents wanted to travel, so we did some road tripping and I took the time to figure out what I wanted, which was when I decided to go to college.”

  “But couldn’t you have gone to college and still acted?”

  “Sure, but I didn’t want to spend my life on a set and do everything by independent study. I wanted to sit in a classroom with other kids my own age and learn about stuff I was interested in.”

  “You wanted to be normal.”

  “As normal as I could be, anyway.” He tips his chin down, noting the way I’m clutching the Dax doll protectively against my chest. “Whatcha got there?”

  “Oh, nothing.” I reluctantly put the doll back on the shelf where I found it, instead of tucking it under my shirt like I want to. Unfortunately it keeps falling over, so I’m forced to adjust the arms and legs.

  “You can have that if you want. You can have anything you want in here, actually. I’m pretty sure we have boxes of the same stuff in the basement. My mom didn’t like to throw out the memorabilia.”

  “It’s okay. I probably already have it anyway.” I clamp my mouth shut, aware I’ve said too much.

  Daxton’s grin widens. “Oh yeah?”

  “Probably in a box in my closet with the rest of my high school stuff.” The Daxton doll—different from the one I was just hugging—is still in its box, because it’s a collector’s item. The DVDs sat on my shelf for the longest time. My mom and I used to watch the holiday movie every year when I was a teenager, and after she passed, I kept up the tradition, at least until the end of law school. Then they were all packed away with the memorabilia as well.

  “I could sign whatever you have, if you find it, I mean.”

  “Really?” I cringe at how excited I sound.

  Dax’s smiles again. “I think it’s interesting that you have a thing for the teenage version of me but you’re not all that fond of the real, adult version.”

  “Well, the adult version has been a bit of a jerk, but I’m starting to warm up a little now. Besides, that show brings back good memories. I used to watch it with my parents and my girlfriends. I associate it with a time in my life when things were simple.” I’m so defensive. “I should probably get going. It’s late.”

  I try to slip past him to avoid further embarrassment, but he blocks the door. “Wait. I’m sorry. I’m not making fun. Well, I am, but only because I’ve missed riling you up like I used to in law school. I’ll stop. Just stay awhile longer and have a drink with me? Please.”

  I should leave. His proximity does something to me. But then I remember that I’m trying to get him to come over to our firm and this is the perfect opportunity to have that kind of conversation. “One drink.”

  I have to look away when he smiles this time, because it’s soft and warm, and almost all the ice around my heart seems to have melted tonight.

  Dax grabs us both a beer from the fridge and we head outside. An in-ground pool takes up a good portion of the yard—the water glowing pale blue in the warm dark night. It’s private here, the gardens surrounding the pool lush and full of pretty flowers.

  Dax settles beside me, legs spread wide, head tipped back as he stares up at the stars. I imagine tonight has been hard for him, with so many reminders of what he’s lost and how many challenges lie ahead. I have the urge to run my fingers through his wild hair, smooth it away from his forehead, soothe him with a gentle touch, which is not at all why I’m here.

  I pull my knees up and turn to face him, propping an elbow on the backrest. “You okay?”

  He sighs. “Yeah. Fine. Thank you for everything tonight. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “You would’ve figured it out.” Tonight has changed my perspective. Watching him care for his sister like a parent would, toeing that line between brother and father, isn’t easy, and it’s clear he’s trying.

  “Maybe, but I don’t think it would’ve gone nearly as well. I don’t know how single parents do it, especially single dads. It’s fucking exhausting.”

  “Has it been hard balancing work and adjusting to all of this?” I motion to the house, not needing to explain more.

  “The firm’s been really good about everything, but it’s a struggle to keep up. Emme has a lot of after-school activities and my mom was retired, so she had the time to take her to all of them. Emme took a little break from all of it, but she’s back at it now, so managing it has been tricky. She’ll be in high school next year, which is another adjustment, so for now…” He shakes his head on a heavy exhale.

  “It’s a lot,” I finish for him.

  “Too much sometimes,” he admits.

  “Have you thought about changing firms? Maybe going somewhere that can be more flexible about your hours and the cases you take on?”

  He tips his bottle back as he contemplates this. “Yeah. I have. But putting together a résumé, having to interview, making another change, the thought is enough to give me a panic attack. I’m just so overwhelmed already.”

  “What if you didn’t have to do any of those things? What if the change was the only stressful part?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t think it’s a secret that Beverly would like you over at Whitman and Flood.”

  His gaze moves over me slowly. “She’s expressed interest before, but that was a long time ago. She offered me a position right after I graduated, actually. We could’ve ended up at the same firm.”

  “She offered you a position at Whitman?” Beverly failed to mention this.

  Daxton nods. “Yeah, I mean, I had a few offers, but there seemed to be more opportunities over at Freeman, and the money was a little better so I went there instead.”

  “Right, of course.” There was only one opening at Whitman back then. I hadn’t received a call back for almost a week post-interview, and I’d nearly accepted a different position outside of the city until Beverly called. Whitman had been my first choice and obviously I hadn’t been theirs. It seems like I’m always coming in second where Daxton is concerned.

  I force the next words out. “Well, you’d only be more of an asset to the firm now. It’s a thought, right? She’s progressive. Understanding.” I don’t want to push too hard. “It’s just something to think about, maybe when you’re more settled and things calm down for you.”

  He rubs his lips with his fingertips, as if he’s considering it. “I just want this to get easier, and it doesn’t feel like it’s going to.”

  I put a hand on his forearm. “The trauma is still fresh, Dax. It’s going to take a while for you to get your bearings.”

  His head drops and he releases another long breath. His next words are barely a whisper. “What if I can’t do this? What if Linda’s right and I’m not cut out to raise a teenager?”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re doing a great job. Being a parent is never easy, especially when you’ve been thrown into it without any warning.”

  He huffs a small, humorless laugh. “I had no idea what to do tonight. All of this is way outside of my wheelhouse. Emme needs women in her life she can rely on who aren’t her friends. And I can’t go to Linda because she’ll use it against me.”

  “I’m here when Emme needs me.” I mean it, even though I worry about the weight it carries, and the deeper implications.

  “I shouldn’t put that on you.” He threads his fingers through mine, curling his over the back of my hand. It’s unexpectedly intimate and strange how natural it feels. “But I want to.”

  I’m already involved, Beverly has made sure of that, and beyond wanting to make partner, it’s clear Daxton needs the support, and frankly, so does Emme. I can relate to what they’re both going through, and it makes it both easier and more difficult to insert myself into their lives like this. I push aside the worry that I’m crossing lines I shouldn’t. “You’re not putting anything on me if I’m offering.”

  “I did tonight.” He traces my thumb with his own. “I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  “I’m glad I was able to help.” And I mean it. How sweet he is with his sister, how caring, this is more in line with the person I got bowled over by in the quad that first day at law school. I just don’t know which version of him to trust.

  “Me, too.” His smile softens. “I have a confession to make.”

  “Oh?” There’s a shift in the air. A warm breeze ruffles his hair and sends mine fluttering around my face. I feel ridiculously girlie as I tuck it behind my ear, my skin suddenly hot.

  Dax waits until I meet his eyes before he continues. “I had a thing for you in school.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “That day I met you in the quad—”

  “As if that wasn’t humiliating enough when it happened. I’d prefer to leave that memory buried in the past, thanks.” I try to pull my hand free from his again, but he tightens his hold.

  “I thought it was pretty great.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because I drooled all over you like an idiot.”

  “If you think about it, it was the perfect meet cute, and if I hadn’t had my head up my ass at the time, I would’ve done something about it.”

  “The perfect what? Did you just refer to me as cute meat?”

  Dax laughs, “No, meet cute, m-e-e-t. It’s when the hero and the heroine meet in a movie, or sometimes a book.”

  “Oh, that’s significantly better than being called meat, but it was still embarrassing, and then I fell on you again less than twenty minutes later. I figured you thought I was stalking you, and then your friend made that comment.” I duck my head, reliving that humiliation all over again. All my visualizing success didn’t seem to do much for me back then.

  “My friends were assholes.”

  “I think that’s pretty typical for college guys. They’re all swagger and balls and zero tact.”

  “That about covers it.” He looks down, playing with my fingers, tracing the curve of my nails with the pad of his thumb. “That first day was the only time I ever saw you like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Unsure of yourself. It was like I got this peek into who you were that no one else did. But in the classroom you were spectacular.” His smile is impish. “I loved debates because I knew you’d have an opinion and it would be grounded in fact and conviction. Watching you in class was…enthralling. You pushed me to work harder. You set the bar and we all had to follow. I just wanted to beat you.”

  “Well, you got your wish in the end, didn’t you?” I don’t want to rehash this with him, not when I finally feel like I’ve been able to let it go.

  “If it’s any consolation, I was rooting for you.” His expression is strangely genuine.

  I pull my hand free and shift away, confused. “Oh, come on, Dax.” I can’t tell if this is all an act, or what. “If you were rooting for me, why did you hand in my paper late?”

  “What?”

  “Just before finals I ran into you on campus and asked if you’d handed in your term paper yet. It wasn’t due until the next day, but I knew you had a habit of handing things in early. I asked if you could hand mine in for me because I had to miss class the next day.” I remember how frantic I’d been and how perplexed Daxton looked at the time, much like he is now, likely because most of our conversations took place in the form of classroom debates.

  “I handed them both in that afternoon, though.”

  I remember the day I got the paper back with the late marks taken off. The paper was worth 50 percent of the final mark, so the deductions were a huge blow to my pristine record. I was so confused at first, until I noticed when it had been handed in. “It went in a day late. It was stamped, Dax. There’s no point in lying.”

  “But I—” Daxton’s eyes fall closed and his jaw tics. “Fucking Felix.”

  “Who?”

  Daxton rubs the space between his eyes. “My friend Felix McQueen. He was in our class.”

  I recall the name, but not the face that went with it. “That doesn’t really explain anything.”

  He sighs and looks at the sky. “Not to you, but it does for me. I remember that day, because I was shocked that you’d ask me for a favor like that, knowing how much your grades meant to you. I was actually hoping to run into you because I’d finally grown some balls and I was going to ask you if you wanted to exchange numbers or go for coffee or something. But you seemed so upset, I figured I’d wait, and then I didn’t see you again until I walked into your office with my parents.” He huffs a little laugh and grows serious again. “Anyway, after class, Felix said he was handing in his paper, and I had study group at the library. I wanted to get the papers in before the office closed for the day, you know, because of the stamp.” He shakes his head a little. “So I gave them to Felix, yours and mine.”

  “Except mine didn’t make it,” I supply. I remember the sinking feeling when I got it back, how devastated I was, not just because of the late mark deductions, but because I’d felt betrayed by someone I thought was my friend.

  I don’t know whether to trust what he’s telling me or not. He’s an actor by nature. He could be making this up to keep me in his corner. All of this could just be for show. Just as my being here is steeped in ulterior motives, although I’m struggling to keep that in perspective.

  “Well, this explains the way you reacted to me when I first saw you again after all these years.” He rubs his fingers back and forth across his bottom lip, pensive. “I didn’t know, Kailyn. I mean, I guess it all makes sense. After that you just disappeared. I expected I’d see you on campus again, but I never did. Not even at graduation.”

  “My dad had a heart attack. That’s why I couldn’t turn in my paper. All I could focus on was getting to the hospital, especially since we’d lost my mom during my undergrad. I was terrified I was going to lose him, too.” At Daxton’s horror-stricken expression, I continue. “He recovered, but it weakened his heart. He wasn’t doing well around graduation so I skipped it. A year later another heart attack took his life.”