Page 52 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

"I'm pairing up with Alexia." He doesn't look at her. He's still looking at me. "Just tell us what we're doing."

"Wait," I say to her. "I can find another group, I'm sure Rhys is too busy to join in." I lower my voice again and say to him, "You don't have to rescue me. That's not your job."

"That's not what I'm doing, Alexi," he says. "Now be quiet, we're about to miss picking our assignment. Wouldn't want to get stuck having to run a workshop on successful relationships building or something. Not unless we want to be to blame for the entire department blowing up."

My hand comes up to cover my mouth before the guffaw slips out.

The lanyard woman claps once, delighted, already moving on. "Perfect! Honestly, perfect, because we still need someone to take charge of the staff outing in October! I think Rhys and Alexia will be perfect for that. And this year's theme is—" she runs her fingers down the clipboard "—Ah! Excellent. It's effective communication."

Our eyes instantly meet in a look of pure horror.

Well, shit.

TWELVE

Zachary

The till drawer sticks on the way back in, same as it has since we bought the damn thing three years ago. I give it the half-hearted shove it needs and close it out for the night.

On the floor, Priya's stacking chairs onto tables, muttering under her breath about why she hasn't met a billionaire sugar momma yet, while Dev mops slow, resentful circles near the pool table like he's picturing the faces of tonight's worst customers.

"That's the last of it." Priya drops the final chair with a clatter that makes Dev startle and aim the mop in her direction. "Rough one tonight."

It was. Someone started a fight over a bet on a pool game on the TV, a bachelor party turned into a live version of Love Island complete with a cheating scandal confession between the groom and one of the bridesmaids' brothers, and at one point I had to physically remove a patron, one of the local volunteer firemen, from behind the bar because he was "just showing Priya how to pour a drink."

"So, boss, you coming to Marilyn's with us?" Dev calls over from the storage closet, letting the mop clatter against the wall. "Levi's saved us a spot and he's got the first round."

I check the clock above the door. Two twenty-eight. Feels like two hours later than that. Though I'm sure that's got nothing to do with me watching the clock since...well, since I arrived. "Nah, I'm right, mate. Heading home tonight. I'm knackered."

Priya lets out a noise between a scoff and a laugh, elbowing Dev in the ribs, delighted with herself. "Pay up. Told you, boss has stood us up for the last two weeks. Reckon he's got someone stashed somewhere."

"There's no one stashed anywhere." It comes out harsher than I mean it to. I grab the food container waiting for me on the back bar bench, wrapped and still faintly warm, and tuck it under my arm. "I'm just tired, guys."

"Sure you are." Dev's grinning now too, the pair of them united in a rare show of solidarity. "You're allowed to have a life, you know. Outside of us."

I sling my jacket over one shoulder and head for the door before either of them can dig further.

"Night, check the stove before you lock up," I say. My standard farewell. There are plenty of ways disaster could strike one of our bars, but a forgotten stove isn't going to be one of them.

The drive home takes eleven minutes, same as always, and I spend most of it with the radio off, the container sitting beside me on the passenger seat.

The sensor spotlight flashes on when I pull into the driveway. But it's the window on the right side of the house that I'm looking at. And tonight it's dark.

I sit in the car a beat longer than I need to, keys jingling already in my hand, staring at that black square of glass, wondering if it'll change. It doesn't.

For a second I think about turning the car around, finding the others at Marilyn's, showing up as their friend for once instead of their boss. But I'm not up for it. Not up for being away from the house lately. Even if...it's completely dark.

So I get out of the car.

The house is quiet when I let myself in, quiet enough to hear the fridge hum, and I stand in the hallway, ears straining for any other sign of life.

Not a peep. Marcus passes out by ten most nights lately, stuffed full of pasta. Rhys has developed a love for his bedroom. But I'm surprised even Alexia isn't about. Two weeks in, and she and I usually cross paths in the kitchen in the small hours. I don't usually mind the silence. It's just that tonight, I like the implication of noise.

That maybe I get to spend a few minutes with my best friend's little sister.

I quietly make my way through the hallway, sliding the container next to the fruit bowl and head to the bathroom for a well-earned shower.

The water's still drying on my skin when I come out, towel slung low around my hips, and that's when I see it — a thin gold line under her door. Not the desk lamp. Not a laptop. Probably her phone.