I tried to quell the hum vibrating all along my skin when my oldest brother said this. I wasn’t sure how I wanted Will to take care of me: Did I want him to just be my brother’s friend, helping me find more balance? Or did I want to get a grown-up look at the object of my filthiest fantasies?

“Hanna,” Dad pressed. “Did you hear your brother?”

A waiter passed with a tray of full champagne flutes and I swapped out the empty one for a full, bubbly glass.

“I heard him. I’ll call Will.”

Chapter One

One ring. Two.

I stopped pacing long enough to pull back the curtain and peek out the window, frowning up at the sky. It was still dark out, but I reasoned it was bluer than black and starting to smudge pink and purple along the horizon. Technically: morning.

It was three days after Jensen’s lecture and, fittingly, my third attempt to call Will. But even though I had no idea what I would say—what my brother even expected me to say—the more I thought about it, the more I realized Jens had been right: I was almost always at the lab, and when I wasn’t, I was home sleeping or eating. Choosing to live alone in my parents’ Manhattan apartment instead of somewhere closer to my peers in Brooklyn and Queens didn’t exactly help my social options. The contents of my refrigerator consisted of the odd vegetable, questionable takeout, and frozen dinners. My entire life to this point had revolved around finishing school and launching into the perfect research career. It was sobering to realize how little I had outside of that.

Apparently my family had noticed, and for some reason, Jensen seemed to think the solution to saving me from impending spinsterdom was Will.

I was less confident. Much less.

Our shared history was admittedly scant, and it was entirely possible he wouldn’t remember me very well. I was the kid sister, scenery, a backdrop to his many adventures with Jensen and his brief fling with my sister. And now I was calling him to—what? Take me out? Play some board games? Teach me how to . . .

I couldn’t even finish that thought.

I debated hanging up. I debated climbing back into bed and telling my brother he could kiss my ass and find a new improvement project. But halfway through the fourth ring, and with the phone clenched so tightly in my hand I’d probably still feel it tomorrow, Will picked up.

“Hello?” His voice was exactly how I remembered, thick and rich, but even deeper. “Hello?” he asked again.

“Will?”

He inhaled sharply and I heard a smile curl through his voice when he said my nickname: “Ziggy?”

I laughed; of course he’d remember me that way. Only my family called me that anymore. No one really knew what the name meant—it was a lot of power to give then-two-year-old Eric, nicknaming the new baby sister—but it had stuck. “Yeah. It’s Ziggy. How did you—?”

“I heard from Jensen yesterday,” he explained. “He told me all about his visit and the verbal ass-kicking he gave you. He mentioned you might call.”

“Well, here I am,” I said lamely.

There was a groan and the whispering rustle of sheets. I absolutely did not try to imagine what degree of naked was on the other end of the line. But the butterflies in my stomach flew into my throat when I registered he sounded tired because he’d been asleep. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t technically morning yet. . . .

I chanced another look outside. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” I hadn’t even looked at my clock, and now I was afraid to.

“It’s fine. My alarm was about to go off in”—he paused, yawning—“an hour.”

I bit back a groan of mortification. “Sorry. I was a little . . . anxious.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can’t believe I forgot you lived in the city now. Hear you’ve been holed up over at P and S, pipetting in a safety hood for the past three years.”

My stomach flipped slightly at the way his deep voice grew husky with his playful scolding. “You sound like you’re on Jensen’s side.”

His tone softened. “He’s just worried about you. As your big brother, it’s his favorite job.”

“So I’ve heard.” I returned to pacing the length of the room, needing to do something to contain this nervous energy. “I should have called sooner . . .”

“So should I.” He shifted, and seemed to sit up. I heard him groan again as he stretched and closed my eyes at the sound. It sounded exactly, precisely, and distractingly like sex.

Breathe through your nose, Hanna. Stay calm.