EVER
“What were you doing in Alexandria last Friday?”
The guys stop their conversations and glance in my direction. I set my fork down and wipe the corners of my mouth, stalling for time to come up with a good story.
More than a week has passed since I made the life-changing decision to make the drive to Alexandria. Gage was supposed to return to Dumas on Sunday, the day Bobby picked me up and we went to the farmers market and the flea market, but he stayed in Montgomery to help his grandmother.
Bobby flew into Alexandria late Friday. We video-called every chance we had. He couldn’t come down on Saturday. His business took up his time. I let him know I wasn’t upset.
Homework and work took up all my time, and when I see him again, I want to give him my full attention. He said that was fair. I smile, remembering how he had made a heart on the screen, then a smiley face wearing a crown. It was so cute, and when he smiled his dimpled smile, he was so damn sexy I blew him a kiss.
Bobby is picking up the pieces from when I lost Carlos and is putting my heart back together again, one small, forgotten piece at a time. Bobby said waiting until mid-week to see me was killing him slowly, but he understood. He’s such a good guy, but it doesn’t make the waiting any more bearable.
Deep in my thoughts, I didn’t hear Ty ask his question again. The suffocating silence is what clues me in that something is off.
Our Sunday brunch at José’s is loud and boisterous, a time for the crew to come together and catch up and for José and Ty to update the guys on what’s going on with their businesses in the International District and any trouble brewing between them and Lucas Harrington.
Lucas owns most of the buildings in the International District that businesses lease from, including Ty’s studio. José, however, owns Red Dahlia outright, which is a source of contention between him and Zeke Harrington’s dad.
“Ever, did you hear me?” Ty glares at me from across the large dining table.
“Who says I was anywhere near Alexandria?” My voice is steady, but my stomach is in knots.
I figured my brother had forgotten, since he hadn’t called or texted all week about where the tracking app showed I was at.
“The fucking app, Ever.”
“Hey, man, ease up.” José sets his hand on Ty’s arm, coming to my rescue as always. “Ever is grown. She can do whatever the hell she wants.”
“Alexandria is dangerous.”
“I don’t disagree. My brother was murdered there, remember?”
“Every day. I’m sorry.” Ty throws back a large glass of orange juice, wipes his hand across his mouth, and sets his palms on the table with his intense gaze on me.
I’m in deep shit, and he’ll ream me out later when José isn’t around to rescue me from his temper. That’s what he’s saying with his glare.
Ty is a lot like our dad. He’s hot-tempered and loud one minute and quiet the next, but it’s a silent storm rather than a raging one.
José covers Ty’s hand with his. “Thank you, everyone, for helping me celebrate the anniversary of my big bro’s death with a candlelight vigil at his gravesite. I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well, Ever.”
José is taking my word over the tracking app. Guilt washes over me for not joining the crew when they celebrated Carlos’s life. Instead, I listened to what was in my heart and lived and danced my heart out. But I also made out with a guy and promised to spend time with him in exchange for helping Gwen get closer to graduating with her nursing degree.
I paid Gwen’s tuition and mailed her a letter. She was so excited when she shared the news with us over lunch at Gigi’s Diner. What’s done is done, and I can’t take it back.
Three days. I’ll see Bobby, the bad boy of my fantasy, the villain of my fairy tales, in three days, and I cannot wait. To have his hands on me, his mouth on mine, wondering what vehicle he’ll be driving . . . Maybe he’ll bring the motorcycle again. I can get used to the thrumming of a big, powerful machine between my legs. I groan, and it’s loud.
“Ever.”
Shit. I pretend not to hear my brother and make a smiley face on my plate with blueberries for eyes, a strawberry slice for the nose, and a swirl of maple syrup for the smile.
“Ever!”
Fine. “What, Ty?”
“What was that for?” Ty asks.
“What? What was what for?”
