I spotted him through the living room window, and my heart lurched.
He was a shadow at first, barely distinguishable in the sheet of rain. But the second his figure came into focus, I dropped the curtain and hopped to the door, adrenaline overriding any pain left in my foot.
When I pulled it open, the wind screamed in around us. Anthony stepped inside, dripping wet—rain cascading off him in rivers. His shirt clung to his chest like a second skin, soaked through, plastered against his hard frame. His sweatpants were no better—dark, heavy with water, the outline of him unmistakable.
But I didn't let myself look long.
I threw my arms around him.
He stumbled slightly, caught off guard, and then wrapped his arms around me tightly, holding me like I was something fragile that could break at any moment. His body was ice against mine, but I didn't care. I pressed into him anyway, burying my face into his damp chest
I noticed his arm had some scratches and bruised it was red and there was a bruse over his forehead
"Are you okay?" I whispered, voice shaking.
"I found her," he murmured. "Kitty's fine."
I pulled back slightly, looked up at him. "Not Kitty," I said quietly, eyes searching his face. "You. Are you okay?"
His lips parted, like the words got stuck behind them. His eyes softened, and for a second, I saw something flicker there—surprise, maybe. Vulnerability.
"I'm good," he said. But his voice wasn't as sure.
He looked down, suddenly aware of how soaked he was. A single bead of water dripped from his hair, sliding down his jaw, and then another. The product he'd clearly used earlier was washing out—leaving behind slick, shiny curls that flew how they wanted
I reached up before I could think about it, brushing a few wet strands off his forehead. "What'd you even put in your hair?" I asked softly.
His jaw tightened.
"Nothing important," he muttered, reaching up quickly to slick it back with his hand. He winced, as if the act itself hurt.
"You okay?" I asked again, more gently.
He gave a short laugh, humorless. "Just remembered something stupid," he said. "Lana said you hated guys with obvious product in their hair."
I blinked, confused. "Wait—what?"
He avoided my eyes. "Back at the pastry shop. She said you liked hated guys with cury hair with product " i figured you liked your motorcycle friend better because he didn't need product. His hair was slicked back, not a curl in sight. Figured... I dunno. You weren't into this." He gestured to his drenched curls with a slight shrug.
I stared at him, stunned. "That's not true."
If anything I loved curls it was kinda my type I loved playing with curly hair any one that wasn't mind
His eyes flicked up to mine.
"I never said that. And for the record," I said, taking a step back so I could look at him fully, "that motorcycle guy—Tyler—is like a brother to me. Always has been. He's family."
His brows drew together. "You serious?"
"As a heart attack," I said. "Tyler's has a thing for antwan and julia they are complicated Tyler keeps his feelingsto him self becauseof how complicated they are . Lana made that stuff up, probably to get under your skin."
Anthony blinked. "Well... it worked."
We stood in silence for a moment, the air thick with things unspoken. Rain still battered the windows. Thunder rolled distantly, like a warning, or maybe a blessing.
"I'm sorry," he said finally. "For letting it get to me. For doubting."
"You didn't know," I said softly. "I probably would've done the same thing."
why did he let it get to him ?
He chuckled, voice low. "I doubt that."
We stood there a moment longer, just breathing. The air between us buzzed—electric, like the storm had crept inside.
"I should get out of these clothes," he said eventually, his voice rough with hesitation.
I brought these they are my brothers not my Tyler's I teased you two are about the same size
The Bathroom on the left up the stears
He nodded and turned to head up the stairs, his wet clothes leaving faint footprints on the floor."So he hadn't been interested in Lana "
I watched him go, heart still racing, chest warm with something that wasn't guilt or fear or confusion.
It was relief.