Today is not the day, or any other day for that matter.
Ryan unknowingly saves me from myself.
“Brought food. Steaks. And whatever else Camille cooked and stuck in here,” he says, lifting a cloth grocery bag.
“Damn, man. Your girl let you hit it, then sent you to hang out with your boys with food she cooked for us?” Cannon shakes his head in disbelief and takes a long pull from his beer. “That’s the kinda woman every man needs in his life. Know where I can find a girl like her? I want that.” He tips his bottle toward me. “Don’t you want that?”
“Nah, brother. I’m good with the single life.”
Despite knowing how I feel about relationships, they both look at me like I’m full of shit. I’m not about to have this conversation, so I cut it off before it even gets started.
“I’m gonna fire up the grill, then I wanna talk to you guys about something.”
Standing, I head over to do exactly that. I hear, but ignore Ryan’s muttered words, “Sounds serious.”
I’m quiet as I grill the steaks. Both Ryan and Cannon sit back and let me be, knowing this is how I get when I’m stuck in my head. They don’t take offense to my silence, don’t push me to talk. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more grateful that my boys know and understand me so well. I haven’t told them about any of the information I got from Jake. Knowing that I had him searching is the extent of their knowledge.
Once we’re all sitting down, plates piled with food and cold beers in our hands, I decide to rip off the band-aid.
“I have a brother.”
Ryan’s eyes shoot to mine and Cannon stills, fork halfway to his mouth.
“Well...a half-brother, but you know technicalities don’t mean shit to me. Blood is blood.”
“Back up a minute. What about your father? Did Jake find him?” Ryan asks.
“Yeah,” I say, still unsure of how to feel about knowing he’s dead.
Leaving nothing out, I give them a rundown of the information Jake has given me so far. I even tell them that he’s fairly sure I have another sibling, but I haven’t heard anything more on that front.
“Noah? Bartender Noah? He’s your brother?” Ryan asks, a contemplative look on his face.
“I have no fuckin’ clue who Bartender Noah is.” This from Cannon, who sits back looking confused.
Ryan looks at me closely and slowly starts to nod his head. “I can see it. I can’t believe I didn’t notice the similarities before.”
“Never really had a reason to look.” I point out.
He nods his agreement.
“I missed too fuckin’ much before I came up here. Who is Bartender Noah? And do we like him?”
Count on Cannon to take the seriousness straight out of a situation. Ryan and I both laugh, giving him the answers he so desperately needs, but not without a healthy dose of teasing since he’s so out of the loop.
“I’m guessing you haven’t talked to him about this yet?” Ryan asks.
“Got it in one.” I blow out a heavy breath. “I don’t know how, man. I don’t know how to approach him with this. I mean, it’s fucking crazy to walk up to him and break it to him like I did with you two.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend that approach, but you need to talk to him. He’s good people. I don’t know him well, but Camille’s whole family loves him. Hell, he’s got Holden’s respect, which is pretty much the best stamp of approval someone could have in this town.”
He chuckles, but I know damn well he’s right.
Holden Sterling is the man in Blackwood.
I haven’t met a single soul in this town that doesn’t know and respect him.
Having that respect in return? It’s like wearing a badge of honor, which is why Noah gave me a warning when he saw me watching Presley. Holden isn’t someone you want on your bad side.
“I gotta figure out how to handle it. I don’t know his life, or his relationship with our father—if he even had one. I’m excited at the prospect of getting to know him, but at the same time, it’s a...delicate situation.”
“You’re right, but you’ll figure out the best way to get it done. And you know Ryan and I have your back. Hell, I’ll be right there to hold your fuckin’ hand if that’s what you need me to do.”
This ridiculous motherfucker.
Laughing, I reach across the table and slug him in the arm.
“Ouch. Fuck!” He rubs his bicep, practically pouting.
“Suck it up, pansy,” I joke. “And I don’t need you to hold my fucking hand. Get outta here with that bullshit.”
Ryan laughs at the two of us, then starts teasing Cannon for being such a pussy.
I sit back, beer in hand, and watch the two men I consider brothers.
Grateful as fuck to have them in my life.
ELEVEN
Presley
“Derrick, no! I swear...I will kill you if you post that one!” I shout through breathless giggles, trying to snatch my phone back from him.
I miss, and we tumble to the couch in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
I finally jerk my phone from his grip, but the force of the motion sends me sprawling to the floor. I land on my ass with a loud thud. Derrick gasps and the room goes silent. His eyes meet mine and we burst into laughter again.
Laying back on the floor, I try to calm down and catch my breath.
Seems the two glasses of wine we drank have gone straight to our heads.
Fine.
Bottles.
It was two bottles.
Derrick showed up a couple hours ago on a mission. Armed with a few bottles of wine, he was ready and determined to convince me to create a new Instagram account. I couldn’t bring myself to ruin it for him by telling him I’d already decided to start one.
We cracked open a bottle of wine.
I feigned a little resistance.
Eventually, we managed to get a username that wasn’t already taken, and now he’s insisting on posting the first picture.
A picture from my boudoir session.
A picture of me without a bra, my back to the camera while I look over my shoulder.
My eyes are lidded, cheeks tinted from blush, hair in disarray.
I still can’t get over how I look in the photo.
Hot. A little naughty. Freshly fucked.
It’s one of my favorites from the session, but despite Derrick’s insistence, I’m not ready to take the plunge yet. Soon, but not yet.
“Fine!” he huffs, eyes rolling. “We’ll choose a PG picture to start but let the record show that I think you should post something sexy.”
He stands, holding out his hand to help me up from the floor.
“I’m totally out of my element, D,” I say softly. “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing with this, no idea what I should be posting.”
We curl up together on the couch, Derrick scrolling through the other pictures on my phone.