“I heard someone did something to someone in our family, and Oliver took care of the guy,” Brax answers.
“That all you know?” Zoey asks.
Brax nods. “It’s all cryptic. I could use more specifics, but it’s a need-to-know basis and I guess I don’t need to know.”
“It was me,” Zoey admits as she wraps her fingers around one of the shot glasses. “He was protecting me.”
Brax stiffens and straightens. “You could’ve come to me, Zo.”
“Why?” she asks, slamming back the tequila as Brax and I watch her. She doesn’t even wince. “So you could’ve been the one arrested instead?”
“Well… I…”
“Oliver was there when Zoey came to my place, Brax. We didn’t keep you out of the loop on purpose, but I’m glad you’re not involved.”
“I’ve always helped,” he replies.
I roll my eyes as I grab a shot glass. “Only a man would be upset that he didn’t get to help and be arrested.”
Brax gives me the middle finger.
“I know you always have our back, cousin,” Zoey says to him, touching his hand that’s resting on the bar. “I promise I didn’t keep it from you on purpose.”
“As long as you know I’m here.” He smiles at my sister, always wanting to be the hero.
“It’s not like we could forget,” I tease, sticking out my tongue at him when he looks my direction.
Zoey reaches for the second shot before I’m over the burn of my first.
“Feel better?” I ask her.
“Totally.” She smiles, lifting the glass to her lips.
“Do I want to know?” Brax asks, ignoring the regulars who are staring in our direction because they need refills.
“You don’t,” I tell him, tipping my chin toward the other end of the bar. “Looks like you have some thirsty customers.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, peeling away from us.
“He’s nosy,” I tell Zoey.
“We all are,” she says and chuckles. “It’s our family curse.”
“Is it, though?”
She grabs a tiny red straw from the container and sticks it in her mouth. “I wouldn’t have it any otherway. And hey, for as much as everyone talks, Brax didn’t have all the details about what happened with Oliver and Mark.”
“True,” I whisper. I don’t know how that tidbit of information didn’t work its way down the family chain.
“I’m sure Dad didn’t want anyone knowing anything unless I said it was okay. It’s not the kind of information you share.”
“You’re right,” I say to her, grabbing the bottle of tequila to refill her glass. “More?”
“I think we better pace ourselves.”
I giggle. “Seriously?”
“What?” she asks with a straight face.
