INSTA-FAMILY

2. Lucy Olivia

2

LUCY OLIVIA

The first time I met Vaughn Merrill, he was a total asshole.

I mean, there I was, trying to make the walk of shame as silently and inconspicuously as possible. But when I opened the door to the guy’s bedroom I was sneaking from, boom, this massive wall of chest covered in a maroon Henley blocked my path.

It startled the ever-loving crap out of me. So, of course, I screamed.

In return, the man lurched back, dropping the raised hand he had fisted as if he’d been about to knock, and he blinked at me once before booming, “What the hell?”

“Huh?” another voice grumbled from the bed behind me, making me cringe because great. This was just great. We’d awoken the one-night stand.

Now I’d have to talk to him and tell him good morning and goodbye and all that awkward s**t I didn’t want to do because I’d never actually had a one-night stand before. I wasn’t too clear on the proper protocol for what happened next, ergo I had decided to just, you know, forego the whole morning-after step and bolt while the bolting was good.

But thanks to the looming man in front of me, my beautiful, ingenious plan had been botched completely.

Curse you, loomy man. Now this moment was going to suck even worse than it already did. And I was feeling crappy and uncomfortable and awful enough as it was.

Did I say that aloud to him, though? No. I was actually an adult and kept my cool.

“Oh God, sorry,” I gasped, still clutching my chest. A nice, polite, human-sounding apology. “I did not expect someone to be standing right there when I opened the door.”

I hadn’t even been aware Duke had a roommate.

Now ask if the roommate pardoned me for screaming in his face or even offered up his own apology for scaring me in the first place?

Yeah, that would be a big, glaring no.

Narrowing his eyes as if my very existence offended him, he pointed past me into the room. “Did you just spend the night with him?”

“Uh…”

Okay, one: was the answer truly not obvious enough that he just had to ask and make it so spoken and public and out there? I was carrying my shoes in my hands, for God’s sake. Talk about embarrassing.

But two: what was with the attitude? I hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Duke and I were consenting adults with no relationship ties to anyone else. Just because I was currently calling myself ten kinds of stupid right now for giving in to him, didn’t mean Mr. Loom here could too. So yeah…

How dare he judge?

And finally, three: how was it any of his business what I did, even if any of the above was true? This was my mistake I’d made with someone else; not him.

Pretty sure no one would believe me if I lied and answered no, no, I hadn’t just spent the entire night with Duke, I blinked at Loom, wondering why he seemed so freaking mad, and I decided to just go honest by cringing apologetically—because he was really glaring at me as if I should apologize for something.

“Er, yes?”

Not sure why I posed my reply as if it were a question, but it was morning. I hadn’t had my coffee yet, I’d just woken up after a night full of really regrettable decision-making, and now I merely wanted to go home and sulk in a hot bath with wine, but this dude was blocking my way, preventing me from my noble goals with all his accusative questions. It scrambled my brain. And thus, out came a very uncertain yes.

“How could you?” he hissed, hovering over me like pure rage personified. “Do you not realize what condition he’s in? How fragile his immune system is? Jesus God, having relations with a woman at this point could kill him.”

“I…” Well, damn.

At first—and I can’t believe I’m admitting this because it’s simply awful of me, but—I wanted to laugh and snort over the word relations. Seriously though, who used relations to describe s*x? So strange.

But then the rest of his accusation soaked into the old brain cells, and this blooming mass of guilt just kind of killed all traces of humor.

Had it honestly been so dangerous for Duke to be with me, though?

Great. Now I was a murderer.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Well, to catch you up to speed,” the ever-sunny Mr. Loom snarled, “Duke has stage four lymphoma, he’s already on hospice, and most pressing of all, he’s about to be late for a vital appointment this morning, thanks to you.”

“Oh, s**t,” I mumbled, wincing. “I had no idea. About the appointment, I mean. I knew the rest; I was at his goodbye party last night at work, and—”

“Then you should’ve known better!”

I blinked. “Well, he didn’t mention how dangerous it would be to—”

“And you didn’t think to ask?” Loom sniffed incredulously and gaped at me as if I were stupid.

Actually, I kind of had asked. A lot. Enough to annoy Duke with all my are you okays, I think. But I wasn’t about to tell this man that.

Instead, I snapped, “Well, I guess not, being that he’s a grown-ass man, and I figured he could decide for himself if he’s capable of having s*x or not. Why would I question his competence?” I sniffed and rolled my eyes. “That’s not the number one way to give a guy performance issues or anything. And I was trying to make him feel better, not worse.”

And I wasn’t sure if I had even accomplished that goal, but no way was I going to mention that, either.

“Did the whole cancer part not give you any kind of pause?”

“The cancer part was the only freaking reason I didn’t turn him down flat in the first place,” I yelled.

“And for your information,” he went on, ignoring my response. “He’s not a grown-ass man; he’s a damn overgrown child.”

I opened my mouth to argue back because I really wanted to argue with this jerk and put him in his place, but he made a very valid point. Duke was definitely the epitome of an overgrown child.

But still…

“Look. Do you really think that irresponsible, immature, inappropriate playboy in there is actually my type? Uh-uh. I mean, he’s a sweet enough goofball, but I would’ve told him to shove it where the sun don’t shine if he hadn’t thrown the whole I’m-dying spiel in my face to begin with. Give me one last hurrah before I go, he begged. I mean, really, how do you say no to that?”

The man in front of me blinked. His expression had changed from disdain to surprise to maybe a little bit of sympathy—but now I’m pretty sure I just imagined all those emotions—because he was definitely tossing haughty contempt at me now.

Stepping close, he leaned his face down toward me, and he spoke quietly but succinctly. “You just say no.”

I gulped, feeling my skin chill to a horrible dread. Glaring petulantly into his dark, nearly black eyes, I ignored the panic and fear over how much worse I’d made things for Duke by being with him, and I growled, “Well then, I guess I just f****d up, huh?”

Now if he could kindly step aside so I could go home and bawl over just how terrible I was, I’d really appreciate it.

From behind me, I heard bare feet shuffle forward.

Oh damn.

Then, I flinched into the face of the man glaring at me as my one-night stand sleepily rumbled, “What in the hell is all this arguing about out here?”

“Did I just give you a death sentence by not saying no last night?” I demanded, whirling around to arch my eyebrows pointedly at him for putting me in this awkward situation. But as soon as I faced him, I shrieked, “Oh my God,” and lifted my hand to block my view of him. “Where are your clothes?”

Duke snickered. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like you didn’t see everything last night.”

I closed my eyes and groaned, wondering how my life had descended into this. Probably because I was a bleeding heart who couldn’t say no. Oh, you’re dying? From cancer? And probably won’t ever get the chance to experience pleasure with a woman ever again? Well, okay. You can borrow my body for a minute. It’s alright. There, there now. And, sure, I’ll stay all night and cuddle, just because you need to feel whole again.

God, I was stupid. And what was worse; I didn’t know which man to believe: the one claiming I’d made everything worse or the one acting like everything was absolutely fine and normal. Because Duke did not look or act as bad off as everyone was saying he was.

When he yawned big and began to scratch his balls, I made a distressed, aggravated sound in the back of my throat and pressed both hands over my eyes. “If I had known being with me would make things worse for you,” I started, but his snort cut me off.

“Honey, it doesn’t get much worse than this. I’ll be lucky if I survive the month. Who the f**k cares if I get my rocks off a little before I go?” I blew out a relieved breath as he added, “Don’t let my overprotective, worrywart of a big brother get the best of you. You did not make anything worse for me. And I really appreciate what you did, okay?”

Slowly, I removed my hands from my eyes and blinked at him. “Okay. But—”

“No buts.” He lifted a finger to silence my concerns. “Just tell me last night was great and give me a hug goodbye.”

I paused horribly, unable to say any such thing about the night before. Because it’d been awkward, uncomfortable, and embarrassing, and absolutely nothing about it had been great for me. But I couldn’t upset Duke with the truth.

For some reason, I glanced toward Loom. He lifted an eyebrow as if daring me to admit how I really felt.

I scowled at him and then stepped toward Duke to hug him. “Thank you for last night,” I said against his frail chest.

No matter what I thought about the actual events, it’d been an experience I wouldn’t soon forget. And even though he didn’t act like someone who was dying, I couldn’t leave him with any kind of negativity.

Duke sighed gratefully and hugged me back, murmuring into my ear, “Thank you. And just ignore Vaughn. I usually do. He’s only jealous because you did something for me that he couldn’t.”

I cringed over that bit of inappropriateness, but I had to admit, the derisive answering snort that came behind me from the man who must be big brother Vaughn was pretty satisfying.

“Take care of yourself, will you,” I ordered gently. “And keep in touch. For as long as you can.”

He nodded and kissed my cheek. “Of course.”

I touched his shoulder as I pulled away and whispered, “Bye.”

When I turned, I nearly ran into his brother again, who was still scowling and still hovering. God, he was tall. And gorgeous.

Still...

He didn’t get a goodbye from me. I merely glowered back and edged around him, muttering, “Excuse me,” as I left.

I never saw Duke alive again. He didn’t contact me, and I never contacted him.

Seven weeks after that morning, I attended his funeral.

And a week after that, I sank numbly onto the closed seat of my toilet in my bathroom, blinking in shock at the positive results of the home pregnancy test quivering in my hand.