“What is it? What do you see?” Following my stare, a light bulb clicked on in her head. “Is it thegate?”
How had she learned to read my cues so easily? Of all the people who’d passed through my life, no one had picked up on the anxiety that manifested in my hands and feet, and my facial tics. They’d been quick to put a label on me: hyperactive. But it wasn’t that. It was stress and fear, misdiagnosed and then left unmanaged. Yet Grace had figured me out the first night we met. All those experts missing the signs made me wonder if they’d even been looking.
“I don’t like being locked in,” I said.
Had I already told her that trigger? I’d rattled off a few the day we got back together, but there were more where those came from. So many more. I’d omitted them to keep from overwhelming and freaking her out, but the list was long. I didn’t like walls. I didn’t like excessive touch. I didn’t like mirrors or gates or cameras. God, I was so damn weak.
“There’s a door on the right side of the gate,” she said. “You don’t need a code to get out. You’re not trapped, Rory. You can leave anytime you want.”
I acknowledged her explanation despite my senses still being on high alert. Righting myself in the seat, we drove the short distance to the house. Once she parked, Grace placed a hand over mine, squeezing the jitters out. No words, just a soothing assist.
“Sorry,” I said, willing my agitations away. “Just give me a sec.”
“Of course.” Her hand continued to hold mine tightly. “I got you, babe.”
Something in Grace’s easy vibe relaxed me. She never probed for details or made a big deal out of my quirks. Grace acknowledged the issue and moved on, proving that not everything needed an evaluation or scheduled meeting. I understood I wasn’t normal. I didn’t need a team of professionals pointing it out and slapping a label on my forehead to carry with me like a weighted backpack for the rest of my life.
I looked out the windshield, noticing for the first time a guy sitting on the porch, and did a double take.
“Is that…?”
“No,” Grace said. “Not Jake. I know he looks a lot like him. That’s Quinn, the one I told you about.”
“The overprotective one?”
“Yes. He’ll try to intimidate you, but he’s really just a big talker. You could easily take him, if it came to that.”
Whoa, hold on. She never told me to come prepared for a brawl.
“Will it come to that?” I asked.
“Um…” She hesitated. “No.”
“That doesn’t sound encouraging.”
“He enjoys scaring the guys away. It’s kind of his thing. On the plus side, it’s probably why I was still a virgin for you.”
“Okay, well, I never asked for you to be one.”
“I know, I’m just saying. Anyway, back to militant Quinn. When we were kids, he assigned himself my protector, and now that I’ve grown up, he’s having a little trouble moving on. Just don’t take his bait and you’ll be fine. Once we get by him, the rest of the brothers will be a breeze.”
As if I wasn’t nervous enough, now I had to deal with the overprotective gatekeeper who’d want to smash my face in. But Quinn gave me no choice. He stood as we walked up, blocking the path with a wide, hostile stance. I might not have been a match for Hartman, a trained heavy, but the hell if my street urchin ass couldn’t take the win against a kid who’d grown up in a castle sipping Perrier by the pool.
Remaining neutral in posture, I waited for Quinn to conduct his thorough head-to-toe scan. In the process, he frowned and squinted and cocked his head, all while formulating an opinion. Finally, he looked me in the eyes and offered a quick up-nod. “Cool. You wanna join my band?”
I rocked back in surprise, the confident smirk on his face in direct contrast to the prickly, overprotective brother Grace had spoken of. The same guy who’d threatened the lives of all those who came before me had just as easily tossed his baby sister’s welfare aside for his own selfish gain.
Now that was a front man.
“Hell yeah, I wanna join.”
* * *
“Everyone, listen up,”Quinn called out as we walked into the kitchen. A small gathering of people looked up from their conversations. “This is my new drummer, Rory. Can we all give him a warm welcome?”
There was a smattering of applause.
“He’s also the first boyfriend I’ve ever had in my whole life, all because Quinn is such a misogynist asshole,” Grace said, to no applause at all. “No? Okay. Apparently finding a quality drummer is more important to this family than finding lasting love.”
