“I remember.”
“What do you drink, Toren?”
He blinked hard, like he’d almost forgotten we were at a bar, that he’d been the one to say he wanted to go for drinks. “Whiskey.”
I glanced up at Riggs who said, “A beer is fine.”
Before he could argue with me, I slipped out of the booth and went to the bar, ordering their drinks.
“Anything for you?” the bartender asked.
“Wine,” I said before I could think better of it.
Wine had always been my drink of choice because it had been Marshall’s drink of choice. I’d tried other things, small acts of rebellion meant to separate me from the man, but I’d—unfortunately—found wine was what I most enjoyed drinking.
The bartender slid all three drinks toward me, and I managed all of them in one trip without any spillage. Riggs took a huge drink of his beer, and Toren finished almost half the whiskey in one swallow.
“I’m very happy to stay,” I said carefully, “but if it’s better that I go?—”
“No,” Riggs said at the same time Toren said, “Don’t.”
A buffer then. I could do that.
Riggs had done so much for me, it wouldn’t cost me anything to be that for him. But, Jesus, what would Marshall do? How would my brother talk the man he loved through this situation? Finn would joke himself out of it, and Hunter would probably brood himself through it. Marshall had never been that kind of communicator, though. He was confident in himself, sure of his words. He spoke and moved with assurance, and up until that very moment, so had I.
It made sense that Marshall left me when I needed him most, through in retrospect I realized, I always needed him. My oldest brother was the closest thing I had to a father figure, and the only reason I turned out the way I did was because of him. I’d only been brave enough to be with Riggs because of the lessons my brother had taught me.
Shit, I did really need to talk to Marshall.
But that would have to wait because I was sitting in a dirty vinyl booth with the man I loved and his ex-brother-in-law and the two of them needed to dig out of the mess they’d let bury them both over the four years that had passed since Evander, since Ev, had died.
“Do you live around here?” I asked.
“San Diego.”
“I have a brother in San Diego,” I said, wincing as the words left my mouth.
Toren laughed under his breath. “It’s all right. You’re allowed to have brothers.”
“Until very recently, I thought I had too many,” I admitted.”
“How many is too many?” he asked.
“It’s complicated, but I have four brothers.” I thought about Donovan on the dating app, the cookie cutter of Marshall. “Maybe five. Probably more.”
“Maybe? Probably?”
“My dad was not great.”
Toren flashed a smile, and it gave me a look at a completely different version of him. “Mine was.”
“Until your brother died?”
Toren nodded.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s…I can’t imagine.”
“It sucks,” he said, looking up at Riggs. “I lost…everyone.”
