Beau shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be so sure. And why’d you have to ruffle her feathers?” His eyes narrow. “If you somehow mess things up between me and Kirsten, Iwillkill you. Youknow that, right?”
“I’ll help,” Luke adds, dunking his Nashville hot wings into a tub of ranch.
Beau flexes his biceps by resting his elbows on the table. “I won’tneedany help.”
“You guys think I can’t take on a bunch of old-timers? We’re not kids anymore.” I grin, matching Beau’s posture so my biceps bulge as well. “I’m in my prime, baby, and you guys are nearing the days of hearing aids and toupees.” I’m exaggerating, of course, but the truth is, Beau, Luke, and Liam are in their forties, while I’m a young thirty-three years old.
“Don’t worry, brother,” I say, “I’ll keep it strictly professional, just like you asked.” I pop a brow. “No matter how bad she wants me.”Or how badly I want her,but I don’t add that part.
Beau groans.
“You don’t know women as well as you think you do,” Luke says before taking a bite of his chicken. Ranch oozes down his fingers.
Luke’s twin, Liam, shivers. “Can’t believe you can eat it with that much sauce. That’s not natural.”
My confidence might be heightened by sheer desire to see Maggie again. To show her exactly what I can do with that place. Maybe then she’ll understand my frustration over Nobly’s outdated approach to the job.
“Hey,” I say to Luke. “You saw the design I came up with. Doyouthink she’s going to swallow her pride and have me do the job or not?”
I’m looking for affirmation because this is one job I do not wantto lose. Luke’s the best source since Jackie, his oldest daughter, is the one who transforms the blueprint into a three-dimensional online experience. Potential clients can practically do a walk-through of the space before I even start. Jackie is dang talented, and I’m lucky to have her while she’s working toward her degree.
Luke shakes his head. “Nah, she won’t pass it up.”
Liam pipes up. “What if Maggie takes your design and has someone else do the job for her?”
The idea hits me like a kidney punch; I hadn’t thought about that. “I’d be ticked,” I admit. “Not that anyone would do it as well as I would.”
My older brothers, who all work in the same building doing different jobs, meet for lunch regularly. I join them when I’m able, which is usually a couple of times a month. It’s nice being with all of them, of course, but I can’t deny the Blaine-sized hole I sense every time we’re together. That ever-present awareness that someone’s missing.
It’s been a long time since we talked about Blaine, but after hearing about the worksite incident this morning, I can’t help but imagine what it’d be like if Blaine were still here. If he’d never got sucked into the vacuum of addiction. I try to imagine him working a white-collar job like Luke, Liam, or Beau. I canalmostsee it, but it’s easier to picture him building houses with me and my crew. He’d prefer more of a physical job like that, working with his hands and breaking a sweat. That one’s almost too easy to picture.
In fact, the image quickly becomes dagger sharp and molten hot. It moves from my mind to my heart in a blink, shooting throughout my body like the steel sphere in a pinballmachine, triggering old wounds, buried memories, and a sense of loss that could paralyze me for days. Blaine was close to my age—just two and a half years older. When we were kids, we’d defend one another against our older brothers, even if it was just for play. Them against us—the Goliaths against the Davids.
“Has anyone else been thinking about Blaine a lot recently?” I barely mean to speak it, but a part of me is dying to know. I can’t be the only one reeling from recurring waves of grief.
“Yeah,” Beau says first.
“It’s worse this time of year,” Liam adds. “Reminds me of the nights we drove around looking for him, hoping to drag him off the streets.”
“I remember we took him that specialty sleeping bag when he refused,” Luke adds, plunging more chicken into his ranch.
“Which he probably just sold for drugs,” I say.
“Then you went and built him that tiny home fit for a king in Mom and Pops’ backyard,” Luke says. “You alwaysdidhave a bleeding heart.”
I ignore the bitterness in Luke’s tone. He still resents the fact that Mom and Pops spent part of their nest egg to put Blaine through a sobriety program, something Luke was certain was a lost cause.
“You were good to do that for him,” Liam says, his face thoughtful.
“Yeah,” Beau agrees. “You were good to Blaine. The fact is, he just didn’t know how to be good to himself.”
It goes quiet as I turn my gaze out the window. Birds soarover the pier, the blue sky at their back, their echoing cries carrying beyond the glass.
“This is a crap topic,” Luke says. “Getting back to this mock-up you did for the caboose…Jackie says it’s her favorite design yet. I’m sure she’d agree with you that Maggie won’t be able to turn it down. And,” he adds, cleaning his fingers off with a napkin, “while I don’t like admitting this, my ex-wife can’t stop talking about how wonderful you are for giving Jackie this chance to work for you while she’s going to school.”
Why Luke insists on calling Meg his ex-wife rather than just using her name is beyond me. She was once part of the family, after all. “Jackie’s awesome,” I say, addressing the comment about his daughter first. “I used to get eighty-five percent of the jobs I’d sketch up for potential clients. But with her digital, 3D displays, I get every one of them.”
“Which is why you’re so sure you’ve got this one with Maggie in the bag?” Beau asks.
