“You’re trying to get me arrested.”
She snickers, then grunts, like she’s climbing off the couch. “Whatever works. Do you have a date yet?”
I put my feet back on the table and frown. “A date for what?”
“For when you’re coming home, dummy. When can I expect you on my doorstep? I’ll probably even cook for you.”
“Baked beans on toast?”
“Don’t act fancy!” she laughs. “What, you think you’re ballin’ now that you have one less mouth to feed?”
“Oh please. You’re the socialite sitting up in that Kincaid estate, drinking hot chocolate and accepting ass kisses from all the rich folks.”
“And now you sound petty.” She sighs. “Come home, Will. Even if it’s just for a visit. I need to see you for real.”
“Soon. I promise, Bubbles. Soon.”
“What are you doing?” Her whimsical sighs are replaced with anger. “Whatever it is, it’s clearly illegal. Because if it wasn’t, you’d tell me where you are.”
“It’s not… I’m not…” I drag a hand over my head and groan. “I can’t tell you. I would if I could. You know that, right?”
“Is it legal?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Is it safe?”
“Bubbles! I can’t tell you.”
“Is it in the same fucking country I’m in?”
I don’t bother saying it again.
I can’t tell her. I can’t say a single damn thing, and we have this argument every single time we speak.
Glancing up at the movement in my peripherals, I nod at my summons, then turn back to the view laid out in front of me. “I have to go, Bubbles. But I’ll probably text you tomorrow.”
“Probably?” she whips back. “I didn’t realize your love was probably.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groan. “Drama. I love you, Bubbles, and you damn well know it, so don’t sit over there and go through your manipulative, teen angst phase now.” I stand from my chair and grab my beer as I move. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be at the studio most of the day,” she murmurs. “Soph’s working us triple time to get ready for the show.”
“Yeah, well, she always was a hardass who pushed her dancers, wasn’t she?” I step back inside my apartment and set my beer on the corner of the coffee table. A silver gun sits atop a pile of magazines – the reading kind – and beside that, the remnants of a pack of cookies I tore through last night. “You asked for this, Bubbles. I seem to even recall a comment where you actively hoped she’d be an ass who worked you hard. Something about not wanting things to be too easy for you.”
“I told you so is an unattractive thing to say, William.”
I snort, then nod when my companion lifts an impatient brow. “I seriously have to go. Love you, baby sister. Catch you tomorrow.”
“Love you too,” she pouts. “Whatever it is you’re doing, be safe. You owe me one healthy, intact, emotionally undamaged brother. We had a deal.”
“Doing my best.” I stop by the doorway, and slowly shrug into my coat. “Sleep well.”
“You too.”
As soon as the call disconnects, I slide my phone into my pocket and glance up to a man who goes by the name Echo. The name his mother gave him trends toward something much less cool, but no one ever uses that name. “Why are you here?”
He lifts his chin and turns back through my door. “It’s almost time to finish up, pup.” He stops in the hall and waits for me to follow him out. “You’ve gotta work for it until the end. No shortcuts.”
“Boss said I wasn’t working tonight.”
Echo turns back and grins as I follow him into the hall. “Boss lied.”
Will
Homecoming
Eleven months, twenty-seven days, and twenty-ish hours after I left my sister on her boyfriend’s doorstep and instead took a phone call that would once again alter the path my life would take, I drive back into town in a semi-beat-up Ford Ranger. With my hat pulled low to combat the glare from the descending sun, I sit back and open my legs wide as I cross over the train tracks that somehow, despite having spent a mere two weeks here my whole life, feels like coming home.
There’s no reason for this two-bit town to feel nostalgic for me, except perhaps for the sole reason this is where my sister is. She’s my home, she’s my reason, she’s been my only purpose since I was six years old and found out my mom was pregnant, so I lounge back against the bench seat, and cruise right to the center of town, just as I was instructed to do.
I have a new purpose now, a new mission, something that leaves my sister far and away from the bad shit, but for tonight, I’m merely big brother, coming home to his baby sister.
Echo, and the rest of the crew back where I came from, weren’t happy about me leaving town quite so soon; they claim my contract doesn’t end until midnight tomorrow night. But I have two middle fingers and zero fucks to give about their twenty-four more hours of bullshit.
I have a recital to attend, a sister to hug, and an almost-brother-in-law to check in on, so I pull into the parking lot at the back of the building named for a special dancer, cut the engine, and snag my keys, then I slide out of the truck and stride across rough gravel and dirt until I round the building and make my way through the glass front doors.
This place is a dance school. A studio, with rooms full of mirrors, and dance floors that are slippery as hell. But this building also boasts an auditorium, spectator seats, stage lights; everything that my sister ever dreamed of.
I already have tickets to tonight’s show – thank you, Sophia Solomon – so I bypass the ticketing station and instead head straight for the auditorium to find my seat.
“Oh my shit! Will?”
I spin at a woman’s voice, and smile when my gaze locks onto a pair of muddy brown eyes atop a fighter’s body.
“Will!” Her grin grows, and then she’s striding through crowds and steamrolling in my direction.
“Mrs. Kincaid.” I accept her hug when she gives me no other choice, and close my eyes for just a single second when Isabelle Kincaid squeezes me tight and holds on.
Isabelle is Jamie Kincaid’s mom, and seeing as Jamie Kincaid is set on marrying my sister, I guess that makes Isabelle family.
When she’s finished hugging and takes a step back, I keep a hold of her hands and take stock of the woman in front of me. “You look beautiful.”
She snorts. “You look bigger.” She’s a full foot shorter than me, but she still manages to look me up and down from top to toe. “You found a new gym where you’ve been, huh? Geez, Will. My son is going to shit when he sees you.”
“He still a scrawny asshole who can’t keep his hands and eyes to himself?”
She releases my hands and drops her weight back onto her right foot. “That’s my boy. He makes his mommy so proud. Except the scrawny bit. He’s been eating his protein now that his shoulder is better.”
“And Quinn’s shoulder?” I ask. “How was her surgery?”