So Kaycee and I had dated before, big whoop. We'd been friends much, much longer than that teenaged relationship had ever lasted, and the friendship we’d built during those years was what mattered.

At least that's what I kept telling myself.

I'd dreamed of her, after she'd come into my bed late the other night, despite my best intentions.

Hey, she's a sexy girl, ok?

So when I knew she was there next to me, my subconscious brain took over and gave me heated dreams, the kind you can't scrub from your mind in the shower the next morning.

I think I played it cool enough to maintain a nice, platonic distance that morning, though. Cause when Kaycee came back at the end of band practice, she was more herself. Definitely more calm than she had been with all the break-uppage, beer, and Gilmore Girls.

Maybe that was the issue: don't combine heartbreak over cheating and a super-sweet girly show about mother-daughter relationships. That's bound to end in tears.

Who was I kidding? Anything with heartbreak was bound to end in tears no matter what.

I wanted to be there for Kaycee, to help her through this. It had been great spending time with her over the past few years, but Greg was right about one thing: girl was busy. Guess the life of a fancy family lawyer, even if you're a junior contract associate, often comes with some serious long hours.

So I thought the next night, I'd treat her to some old-school Kaycee and Winston fun: we'd take a walk, buy a shitload of penny candies, and watch bad horror movies until she had to go to bed like a responsible adult. Maybe that kind of night would help her feel less alone in the dark. Hopefully it wouldn't make her cry anymore, because I couldn't stand seeing her sad like this.

One advantage to being a successful rock musician is that your schedule is pretty much yours for the making. Sure, Stevie liked to remind us to press the pace a little recording this album so we could tour properly, no distractions, but each and every day was open when I woke up. For now, at least.

Today, I would use that to the fullest. I went down the hall to the spare room where Kaycee had put her bag before leaving for work, and I shuddered to think when I last cleaned it. She deserved better.

So I took as many boxes as I could from the garage, plunking the crap sitting around in the spare room into box after box until the space was much more human. There was even a visible carpet. I washed the window, wiped the baseboards, vacuumed, laundered some fresh sheets, and made the bed.

Now Kaycee had her own room. Not just a corner in some storage wasteland I'd set up without considering anyone other than myself. Major downside to living the bachelor rock star lifestyle: you got pretty damn selfish.

At least now I had something to think about other than myself. When I checked the time, it was nearly two hours later than I thought it was, so I raced to the kitchen to start on some pizza dough. Homemade pizza might not be the salve that soothes all broken hearts, but it certainly didn't make them worse.

Once the pizza was in the oven, cheese bubbled and delicious oozing smells wafted out into the kitchen. I sat down, because Kaycee would be home any minute now. I drank a bit of beer, stretched, and then set the table. I was a little surprised by how excited I felt. It had been a long time since I last did something nice for someone.

And no one deserved something nice more than Kaycee. I mentally kicked myself for not having done nice things for her before she had her relationship smashed to smithereens. For all of my brothers' jokes about me being in love with her, I could be a pretty distant friend sometimes. Even if she was busy and I was busy, we made time to talk. But when had we spent much time together recently?

Life sure had a way of getting crazy.

My beer finished, I sat down again. It was getting later.

Where was she?

I contemplated texting to ask when she'd be back, but I didn't want to seem needy. Kaycee didn't need a reminder of Greg right now, and that's precisely what that would be.

No, better to make it a surprise. I could picture her face: sparkling eyes surveying the table, her face breaking into a smile as she realized what was in store. I could even imagine the way she'd close her eyes to take in a deep breath of the cheesy smell greeting her. And when she went to bed, the room would be a thousand times more comfortable. She could stay here while I was on tour; she'd be basically doing me a favor by keeping an eye on the house.

While I pictured Kaycee's delight at the night I had planned for her, the cleaning I'd done to make her more comfortable, the sense that she was more at home than before, my face split into a huge grin. I couldn't resist the buoyant feeling that I was finally doing something less selfish.

I knew she'd be grumpy initially, probably make some comments about how I shouldn't have, but underneath the grouchiness would be a layer of joy I couldn't wait to witness.

If I wasn't mistaken, there was a noise at the door that sounded like a key turning. Kaycee was home. I checked my reflection in the shiny veneer on the microwave, assuring myself I didn't look disgracefully slobby, and then went to the front entranceway.

To my surprise, it wasn't Kaycee I saw when I rounded the corner. It was another young woman dressed like a lawyer, visibly tipsy and a little dishevelled at the edges from pushing up the sleeves of her blouse.

"Hey! Winston!" she said to me, her voice loud and tone familiar, as if she'd met me already.

She hadn't, right?

Kaycee was behind this woman, taking off her shoes with an audible sigh of relief. She smiled at me when she saw me looking at her, and something inside me stirred. A twinge of...I'm not sure what.

"This is Freddie," she said to me. "We went for a drink after work tonight when she heard I'd been dumped."

"That bastard," Freddie said, giving me a look of angry commiseration. "Good on you to take care of our girl."

"Just doing what any old friend would," I said. But something about the way Freddie's eyes lingered on me made me squirm. I went to the kitchen to add a place setting, trying not to let disappointment overpower me.

"Something smells good in here!" Kaycee said. She, thankfully, was not drunk. If anyone had over-indulged in the happy hour they'd just been at, it was Freddie. Kaycee's face wore the exhaustion of extreme emotional times, though. It was palpable around her like a cloud.

"Homemade pizza," I said. "Thought you could use some cheering up," I said.

"Awww, isn't that sweet?" Freddie said, leaning over the pizza with widened eyes. "That's so sweet."

"Yes, thanks, Win," said Kaycee.

I wasn't sure how to process the fact she'd brought Freddie over. Did she feel she needed a buffer between us after last night? Was she uncomfortable around me? Could Kaycee tell that there was a growing sense of longing in me that I wasn't sure how to understand?

Though Kaycee looked sad, and understandably so, she didn't behave differently around me. Didn't flinch when I accidentally brushed against her while cutting the pizza, and didn't avoid eye contact with me. If anyone was being strange, it was Freddie.

"You make pizza this good every night?" she said, her big brown eyes widened dramatically as she chewed. "If so, I might have to move in too!"

This girl had no sense of boundaries. I could see why she'd be a good lawyer: bold, talkative, completely self-assured. But it was strange to have her in the house.

"Not at all," I said. "Mucho bachelor lifestyle at my casa."

"Single, hey?" Freddie said, her expression changing in an ineffable way as she surveyed me in a new light. "That might be even better."

"Knock it off, Freddie," Kaycee said, laughing but guarded. She'd started tapping her fingernails on the table, a sure sign she was stressed.

"But he's so cute," Freddie said, tilting her head to the side. She was beautiful, don't get me wrong, but not my type. Too polished, too glamorous. Impersonal. Yet I knew, like many hot-blooded American men, that I liked the attention anyway.

"You're just saying that cause I've plied you with pizza and you're already tipsy," I said, leaning in to her and lowering my voice a tone.

She laughed, eyes fixed on mine. "Maybe."

"Yeah, you probably wouldn't like him much if you got to know him," said Kaycee. "Perpetual bachelor type."

Which I guess was true, technically.

"Shame," said Freddie. Though she was gregariously focused on me, she sensed the tension in Kaycee's voice and dropped the issue. "I'm sorry, Kaycee, what was I thinking."

There was a quiet, charged pause where I had no clue what Freddie was apologizing for. It wasn't for hitting on me, right? That would mean Kaycee didn't want her to, and...

"You're the newly single, freshly dumped one around here. We need to find you a rebound guy!"

Kaycee rolled her eyes at Freddie, taking another huge bite of pizza. With cheese still filling her mouth, she mumbled "no thanks."

“Aw c’mon, K,” said Freddie, a new light filling her, propelling her through the conversation with dizzying energy. “When I broke up last time, I spent a few weeks just, you know, playing the field, and it really helped. Like a palate cleanser, you know?”

“Get the bad taste of Greg out of the way?” I said, chuckling, though my stomach was doing bizarre somersaults. Maybe too much cheese on the pizza.

“Yeah, exactly,” said Freddie.

“I don’t think that’s what I need,” said Kaycee. Her voice was thick with the stubborn nature I knew was as much a part of her as her red hair and drive to succeed.

“Couldn’t hurt, though, right?” Freddie said. She reached for her phone and opened up a neon-colored app. “Here, just take a look at what’s out there. See if you find anything you like.”

“Anyone, you mean,” I said. Not sure why I felt the need to correct her. Just the phrasing bothered me. I shrugged. “Dehumanizing.”

“I’m sure guys say ten times worse,” said Kaycee. “You know, like ‘gonna torpedo some babes tonight!’”

“Oh my God, honey, no, no one talks like that,” said Freddie. She stifled a burst of laughter. “See, he’s cute!”

She passed the phone to Kaycee, showing a profile picture of some guy flexing in front of a gym mirror. Though the photo wasn’t as high quality as I’d have expected, he did have impressive abs. I had to give him that.

“He looks like a real donkey,” I said, crossing my arms. I went over to the side of the island where Kaycee and Freddie were hunkered around her phone. “See, he’s got one of those barbed-wire tattoos, like it’s still 1999.”

“Tattoos are permanent, you know that, Win?” said Kaycee.

Great, now her stubbornness was directed at me.

“He’s got a point,” said Freddie. “Next!”

She swiped and found another guy, this one more coiffed. He was wearing a tightly fitted suit and gripping a pint glass in some lounge downtown. Even I had to admit he was an attractive man.

“Oo,” said Freddie. “Him?”

Kaycee paused, her eyes fixed on the man’s face. I felt my stomach clench, willed myself not to make more mean comments. It wasn’t fair to Kaycee.

“A ten on the douche-meter, hey?” I heard myself saying. Kaycee’s head swung round to glare at me.

“I like him,” she said.

And something inside me clenched, a sibling of the pangs I’d felt earlier, but much stronger.

“Go for it! Say something to him,” Freddie chimed in. I could barely hear her through the buzzing in my ears.

What was going on with me?

I had to face the facts: being this close to Kaycee again was stirring up old feelings. Or knowing that she was single again was doing a number on me. I don’t know. Sometimes it was difficult to sort that kind of thing out.

Whatever it was, I couldn’t sit by and watch them gleefully going through more dating profiles. Kaycee had started a message thread and was hesitating over the phone keyboard about what to say. I knew that it was within her rights to flirt, hell, to sleep with whomever she wanted.

I just didn’t have to be there watching it happen.

“I’m tired,” I said. “Going to call it a night.”

Kaycee glanced back at me with concern in her eyes, but she let me go down the hall, saying she hoped I had a good sleep. She and Freddie resumed their fun, laughing as Kaycee flirted with the suit guy.

I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it, sighing.

I had to confront something, now, I hadn’t realized I’d be dealing with.

I still wanted Kaycee.

Wasn’t sure how, or in what way, but there were definite, concrete ways my body was responding to her presence that I had to acknowledge. And her foray into online dating for a rebound was grinding at me in a way I hadn't anticipated. Maybe all those years of jokes my brothers made about how I still held a torch for her weren't entirely off the mark.