Fucking Preston.
“Great timing,” I grumble as Preston and his four brothers enter the crowded foyer. “I thought you were all coming over with Sylvie later?”
“We were, but Shep and Cooper were wrestling and broke her newest favorite vase, so she kicked us all out. She will meet us here in a couple of hours,” Preston’s youngest brother, Ashton, tells me.
“Don’t you guys ever grow up? How on earth she made it this long with all you animals is beyond me,” I tell him.
Preston howls at the ceiling, “You guys are part of the pack too, don’t forget that. Sylvie has eight boys as far as she’s concerned. And you had better shave that scruff off before she gets here or you’ll never hear the end of it, you cheap fuc—”
“Preston!” Dexter and I yell, interrupting the f-bomb he was about to drop in front of Tate. “Come on, Pres, language. When are you going to remember that?”
Preston ruffles Tate’s hair as Easton, yet another Westbrook brother, grabs Tate and hauls him onto his shoulders, “Sorry, little dude. I’ll do better,” Preston tells him.
At least he sounds sincere.
Absentmindedly rubbing my hand over my unshaven face, I wait for Dexter before picking up a bag and carrying it out to the garage.
“I have an extra razor in the master bathroom,” he tells me, and I laugh. He knows I won’t want to disappoint Sylvie—none of us do. She has been a mom to us for years now. “Hey, Trevor?” he asks when I turn to grab another bag from the house.
“What’s up? You okay?” I ask, realizing for the first time just how terrible Dexter looks. Usually considered one of the more handsome among our group, he has big black circles under his eyes and his skin looks sallow. Immediately, I’m on edge again. Dexter and I are always there for each other. My stomach turns at the thought of not being able to help him when he needs it most.
He leans against his car and hangs his head, “Tate stopped talking, almost completely. The twins will be here before you know it and I can’t even handle one kid, how am I going to take care of three?”
“What do you mean he isn’t talking? Have you gone to the doctor?” I ask, already knowing he probably has them on speed dial.
“Yes, the pediatrician said it’s his coping mechanism with all that is going on. I mean, what the fuck, Trevor? How could she leave Tate the way she did? Not to mention that she is pregnant with twins. My twins, my daughters, and she wants nothing to do with them as soon as they are born. This is the bullshit he has to deal with now? I’m failing him, Trevor, I don’t know what to do,” the pain he is feeling makes his voice raw with emotion.
Walking to stand next to him, I weigh my words. Do I promise him I will always be there for him and these kids I already love so much, even though there is a genuine possibility I’ll never return home? Or do I appease him? This friend that has been my brother for over twenty years… do I do that to him?
His wife ripped his life out from under him, leaving him to pick up the pieces alone. In some ways, I guess my father has done the same to me. It is this realization that spurs me into action. I know at this moment that I will never let Dexter, Loki, or the Westbrooks down. They are my family, not the asshole who shared my DNA. I will do whatever it takes to keep us whole.
“You keep living, Dex. You keep giving him and showing him a happy, healthy home. Love him when he needs it, hug him often, and never give up on him. We are not giving up on any of you. We are your strength when you need it, and together, we will get through this.”
With his signature smirk in place, Dex replies, “When did you turn into a Yoda loving hippie?”
“Fuck you,” I say, but I laugh along with him. That was some serious self-reflection, even if I can’t admit it to him.
“You ready for Boston?” he asks me, “Your app will kill it, man, you have nothing to be nervous about.”
He mistakes my guilt for fear. I had to tell him I was going to sell an app, not some secret cyber-security software the military has already retained. I’ve never lied to him before, I hate that I’m doing it now. I have to remember, it's for his own safety.
“Thanks, Dex. I’m sorry I have to leave in the middle of this.”
Dex sighs and I can feel exhaustion rolling off him in waves, “After today, it’ll all be over. I probably won’t even have to see her at the birth of the girls. She has it all planned out. They will take the girls straight from labor and delivery to me in the maternity ward.”
“I’ll only be gone a week, Dex. When I get back, I’m here for you, whatever you need.” For the first time in months, those words don’t feel like a lie.
Leaning in for a one-armed man hug, Dex tells me, “You will kill it up in Boston, I know it. You deserve this, don’t worry about me, I’ll figure it out.”
With a lump in my throat, and knowing the Westbrook’s have Tate, I simply nod and say, “I’ll see you next week.”
“Next week! Pizza movie night with Tate on Friday, we are getting them in before the girls arrive, so stop by when you get home.”
Saying nothing, I nod and head outside to my car. Here goes everything.
Chapter 4
-Bluebird, Miranda Lambert
Julia
Driving in Boston is like sitting with your grandfather after a baked bean eating contest. You know he is going to blow; you just don’t know exactly when. Five hours, four middle fingers, three wrong turns, two one-way-only signs, and one speeding ticket later, I finally pull up in front of the Four-Seasons in Boston’s Back-Bay. Watch out, world, I’m going to blow.
Putting the car in park, I look all around for the valet, “Where the hell is this guy?”
As I’m packing up my crap that got thrown all over the car when Mr. Policeman pulled me over, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun starts blaring through the car speakers, sending all my shit flying once again.
I press the button on the steering wheel, “Hi, Lanes,” I sigh. “I’m here, I just pulled up to the valet but waiting for someone to come get the keys.”
“Eesh, that was a long ride. You doing okay?” The thing about Lanie is, she is always looking out for me. It makes me smile even when I’m ready to scream.
“Yeah, Lanes, I’m fine. Oh, let me call you right back. Valet is here,” I tell her.
“Sounds good. Luvs,” and she hangs up.
Grabbing the rest of my crap, I step out of the car, telling the valet the keys are in the ignition. Making my way around to the passenger side, I grab my suitcase, my garment bag, thanks a lot, Lanie, and my work bag. It is a lot of stuff, and I’m trying to maneuver it all and give the valet a tip when the guy shuts the door in my face.
“What the hell?” I screech, stepping back and tripping over my giant suitcase in the process. Before I know what’s happening, I’m sailing through the air, preparing my ass for the hard landing it is about to receive when two powerful hands grab my waist and haul me back to standing. My hair is wild, a mass of nests I didn’t bother taming today, so I can’t immediately see anything. Finally, collecting my wits and swatting at the hair in my face, I slowly turn in a circle, trying to find who caught me. All I see is the retreating form of a rather expensive suit and a very nice ass.