“Proud of you, bro,” Tucker says. He exhales a laugh when I jump on him, wrapping him in a hug so tight, we both grunt. It took a while. Some hard talks and even harder truths, but Tucker is now one of my best friends. “Love you.”
“Love you too, you big sap. Fatherhood has made you soft.” He chuckles when I let him go and grins at Delaney who makes her way over with my newborn niece tucked into her arm.
I press a kiss to her cheek, and she squeezes my arm. “He's a lucky man, Kit,” Delaney says, nothing but love in her eyes.
We gathered under the white tent set up in the yard. We laugh over dinner and dance under the stars.
The perfect day.
When Bowen finally backs me into our bedroom, hands only leaving me long enough to shed our matching black suits, it's well after midnight.
The cabin is quiet. The air smells like cedar and him. Me. It smells like us.
It's home, and I never want to leave.
Bowen groans when I back up, laying myself out on our sheets.
“I love you, Kit.”
I smile.
“I know.”
Brett
Age 16
They're sickening to watch.
Truly.
Sweeter than the frosted donut I stuck Sour Patch Kids on twenty minutes ago. Sweet enough to make your teeth ache and so. Damn. Clueless.
Kit is writing in his birthday journal. Every year, he adds an entry in the same brown leather-bound book that Bowen got him for his tenth birthday.
His pale cheeks are rosy, and he keeps peeking up at Bowen through his lashes, chewing on the end of his pen.
And my big ol’ dumb brother? He walked over here a second ago and stopped a little in front of Kit in the grass. When he looked down and realized the sun was still hitting Kit's face, he looked back out to the lake and just…casually stepped the two and a half steps up and one over.
Kit doesn't even realize he's shaded now. He's too busy making goo goo eyes at my big dummy of a brother and probably drawing little K + B = love hearts in his notebook.
A couple of years ago, Bowen would have put sunscreen on Kit's neck and cheeks and brushed his hair out of his eyes long enough to ask him if he needed water. Now, Bowen flexes his fist in his pocket because we have well and truly entered his ‘repressed and clueless’ era.
“Kat-boy, make sure you add how much you love me in there. Oh, and don't forget the bit about how you have a crush on that one guy.” I smirk around the handful of Cheetos I shove in my mouth. Bowen, man. He's too damn easy to rile up.
His head snaps down to look at Kit, and Kit looks up to frown at me. “What guy?”
I roll my eyes obnoxiously. “Oh, come on. That guy with the dark hair that you were drooling over last week.”
Kit's frown deepens. He's probably trying to remember if there are actually guys that exist other than my twin.
It was Bowen. He was wearing tight athletic shorts the last day of school, and I'm pretty sure I clocked the exact moment Kit saw them and had heart palpitations.
“Was it Jude?” Bowen asks, careful and easy. Like his jaw doesn't tense. Like he's not suddenly standing stock still. I wanna boo and toss my chips at him for being so dumb.
“Oh, wouldn't you like to know?” I tease. Bowen shoots me a narrow glare, and I smile.
“Jude,” Kit says, like he's wading through every faceless blob in his head. Trying to figure out which non-Bowen one is Jude. “The guy with the big d—”
