For a moment, I stand frozen, then a smell so familiar reaches me that I have to clutch onto the door jamb for support. I can smell my dad, the linger of his cologne still in the air. It's so unexpected that I'm frozen.
"It still smells of him," Harley says, shaking his head. Then he's walking into the room.
I can't follow. It's just too overwhelming. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, but that only makes it worse. Then I feel a hand on my arm. "It's okay," Harley says. When I open my eyes, I find him close. Close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes and a scar on his cheek that I imagine is a sports injury. He doesn't strike me as a brawler. I blink slowly and breathe out the breath I've been holding. "I should have been here," I say. "I'm here too late."
"Maybe," Harley says cryptically. "We can't do anything about what happened in the past. We've already stepped over that threshold. All we can do is deal with the present. I want you to come into this room with me today. You don't need to do anything, although there's plenty to do. I want you to come in with me so that you get over this hurdle. Another small step tomorrow, and nothing will seem so hard, okay?"
I nod, and Harley does something I'm not expecting at all. He takes hold of my hand in his huge, warm grasp and leads me inside. It's difficult to look around and see all the small material things that made up my dad's life. There's still a sweater slung over the chair and a pile of paperwork that hasn't been sorted. The bed has been stripped, and the mattress is standing against the wall. "We'll dispose of the mattress tomorrow and order a new one. If you decide to stay, this will be your space. We can help you decorate… Dad taught us how to do pretty much everything around the house."
"I'm not going to stay," I say.
"Whatever you decide." Harley's still holding my hand, and it's so reassuring that it makes me crave more. I know that Harley's arms would be a safe place to cry. They're rounded with muscle, his chest broad and strong.
But he's my foster brother and a stranger to me, and I don't trust myself at all. I've already gotten into a mess by fantasizing about one relationship that could never have been real. I can't do it again, not in my condition.
I have to learn to stand on my own two feet. I can't let myself think of this man as anything other than someone I'm going to know in passing.
I feel his hand squeeze mine, and I catch him gazing down at me with a quizzical look in his eyes. Men certainly aren't my area of expertise, but I feel his interest in me is more than just straight-up curiosity.
There are eleven men in this house, eleven men who could get ideas into their heads. For the duration of my stay, we're going to be living in close proximity, and who knows where people's imaginations might go. I need to make sure that nothing happens. I need surety that they'll leave me alone because I don't trust myself to be strong enough to do the right thing.
"I might not go back to college because I'm pregnant," I say.
Harley's eyebrows rise, but he doesn't let go of my hand. "How many weeks?"
"Six," I say. "I just found out. It's the reason my mom called my dad. The reason we found out what happened."
Harley nods. "I'm sorry that he didn't get to hear your news," he says. "He would have been happy."
"I'm nineteen," I say. "Nobody’s happy."
"What about the father?"
"Especially the father. It’s a long story."
Harley shakes his head, squeezing my hand. "Well, he's an idiot."
"I think I want to go and get my bags now. It's been a long day."
"Sure. I'll help you."
It's me who releases my grasp on Harley's hand first to make my way out of my dad's room and down the wide staircase. Harley helps me with my bags, and we take everything back to his room. His twin is there when we get back, gathering the things that he'll need to sleep downstairs. "I'm sorry," I say.
"Don't be. It's really no problem." When they've both descended the staircase, I take a seat on the edge of