“We’ll find her,” Aspen vowed. “I promise you.”
Birdie glanced between us, not saying anything as she reached for the wine and poured out three glasses—draining the entire bottle.
She held hers aloft in front of her, and Aspen and I grabbed our own glasses and met her, clinking them lightly together.
“To strong women,” Birdie said before sipping.
Aspen and I echoed the sentiment and followed her lead.
We made ourselves comfortable, Aspen and I were on one side of the massive sectional with Birdie in a chair across from us.
Seemingly desperate to steer the conversation away from the losses we’d all suffered, Birdie said, “So Aspen, how’s wedding planning going?”
Crew, who had appeared in the archway leading into the den, turned on his heel, attempting to sneak away.
“Not so fast, young man,” Birdie said, snapping her fingers and pointing at the spot beside Aspen. Head hanging, though not seeming too put out to cuddle up with his girl, Crew took a seat.
Finn entered next, beelining for me and taking up a similar position on my other side. I didn’t balk at him slinging his arm along the back of the couch and curling it around my shoulders, or the way he tugged me closer so we were pressed together, his warmth seeping into me.
The rest of the brothers filtered in and took spots on the opposite side of the couch. Nobody else in the room seemed tothink anything of my and Finn’s position, as though curl up together like this—like a couple—was the most natural thing in the world.
“How’s Aria?” Birdie asked Finn.
“She’s okay. I talked her off the ledge…for now at least.”
“I’m disappointed in you,” Birdie said with a glare at Trey, Lane, West, and Crew in turn.
“That’s fine,” Lane said. “As long as we’re all in agreement Aria isn’t moving anywhere.”
“We’re definitelynotin agreement.”
All eyes in the room swung to the man with his arm around my shoulders.
twenty-two
. . .
FINN
“We’re definitely not in agreement.”
My brothers’ eyes found me, widening or narrowing in varying degrees of surprise and irritation.
I wasn’t going to stand down on this, though. Aria deserved to have one of us—actuallyallof us—go to bat for her.
For as long as I could remember, my little sister wanted to be a singer. Almost like her name had been a self-fulfilling prophecy. She was insanely talented, and that talent deserved to be displayed somewhere outside of the Swallow every weekend.
“What do you mean?” Trey asked.
“I mean she’s twenty-four. An adult. If she wants to move, there’s not a single fucking thing any of us can do to stop her. Not to mention,” I continued, “as herfamily, we should be encouraging her to chase her dreams, not holding her back under the guise of protection.”
“We just want to keep her safe,” West muttered.
“And right now, you’re suffocating her. Why do you think she spent so much time at my guest house? Because it’s away from your overbearing asses, who show up here and act like your word is gospel when it comes to how she lives her life.”
Next to me, Reagan gasped, realizing she’d taken over Aria’s safe space. I settled a hand on her thigh, squeezing gently, letting her know it was okay.
I’d been indulging in similar touches all evening, unable to resist the feel of her smooth, golden skin beneath my palms. Her fucking legs went on for miles in her little black shorts, and it had taken everything in me not to grab a handful of her ass when I’d walked up to greet her, Mama, and Aria out front earlier.
