Page 5

I’m almost at the top of the stairs when Yale calls my name, and I turn, hoping my cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel.

I swallow hard. “Yep?”

“Happy birthday,” they both say, and I wonder if they mean to time their winks as they head back into their rooms.

Chapter 2

Zayden

Bullet is on the front porch as I step outside. He wags his tail in lazy, slow sweeps when he hears me, but remains focused on the street. Coffee cradled in one hand, I sit on the steps, looking out across the lawn and the other houses.

“Spotted any murderers?” Bullet lets out a huff, his breath fogging, as if unimpressed with my joke. “Well, it’s still early.”

As kids are bundled into back seats and cars back out of driveways, I wonder how I found myself back in a place similar to where I grew up. Sure, our house was a hell of a lot bigger, and we had a gated driveway inside a gated community with other rich kids, but this isn’t far off. After escaping my childhood home, I thought I’d never go back to a place like it.

But this house called out to me, and Silence liked it, too. Yale didn’t seem bothered by the similarities to our upbringing, so he was happy to be here. Xavier expressed his annoyance by purposefully buying a bachelor pad a town over, but he’s been at Yale’s most of the time anyway.

“It isn’t too much to ask that you jerk off in the shower like a normal human being.” Yale’s voice reaches me, and I look to my left as he steps over the property line. He’s in a suit, glasses balanced on his nose, dark hair neatly brushed back, longer than mine. He likes the length; I don’t. His beard is trimmed, also a little longer than mine.

Xavier is clean shaven, as always, and dressed in dark jeans and a T-shirt, snake tattoos peeking above the collar and curling around the letter X on his neck. We all have tattoos of our initials on our necks—a dare from Silence after a night of drinking. Silence has her Q tattooed in a place far more hidden. I’ve run my tongue over it many times as she’s unravelling beneath me, clutching at the sheets.

Her dream comes back to me, and I place down my coffee. The three of us sharing Silence has come up before, but in jest. She’s always reacted the same way, claiming even all of us couldn’t handle one of her, and she’d rather die than give Xavier a second of joy. His response was that he’d rather introduce his nose to a wall at high speed than kiss her.

“God, you look like Dad,” Xavier remarks as he reaches the porch. He grimaces as he says it, as if he wasn’t the best man we knew until he was gone. “Morning, Bullshit.”

Bullet stands and nudges Xavier’s palm, pressing his head into it before wiggling over to Yale. My youngest brother crouches and grins, stroking his head. The dog is as attached to Yale as he is to Silence, as if he can sense their innocence.

“Please tell me I get to kill someone today.” Xavier jogs up the steps and into the house. “I’m in a bad mood.”

Yale stands. “Why are you in a bad mood? You’re living in my house rent free, getting jizz on my fucking towels!”

Xavier’s cackles drift from inside the house, and I smirk. “It’s your own fault for letting him stay.”

“Can’t exactly kick him out, can I? Why can’t he live with you?”

“Because Silence would have a coronary.”

Xavier and Silence’s rivalry is a fucking mystery. The first night in Vegas, they were fine. As time ticked on, Xavier started teasing her, and she gave as good as she got. Eventually, those cute moments became full-blown arguments during which Silence has threatened, on numerous occasions, to feed him his own balls.

Bullet follows us into the house, and I close the door just as it starts to rain again. Xavier is already in my office, sitting on my new brown leather couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table.

“Get your fucking shoes off my coffee table.” I punch his boot as I pass him, and he wrinkles his nose before doing as he’s told.

Yale takes a seat in front of my desk, and I sit behind it.

“You’re not unpacked,” Xavier says, flicking the lid of an open box beside the couch. “It’s stressing me out.”

“Why unpack when you’re still looking for our missing fucking boxes?” I hit back, and he rolls his eyes. “You said you had it under control. If you don’t find those photo albums, I’ll kick your ass, and so would Dad if he were still here.”

“Wow. Playing that card? Really? As if I don’t have enough on my plate.”

Yale drops his head back. “Again, with the stress. You have the easiest fucking life.”

“I’m unpacked. You’re unpacked. Why can’t he unpack?” Bullet hops up beside Xavier, panting in his face. “I bet even Bullet’s unpacked.”

I hold up a manilla envelope. “Will you shut up if I give you a politician?”

“Yes.” He sits up, eyes brightening. He holds his hands out, wiggling his fingers at me. “Gimme.” I toss him the envelope, and he tears it open. “Please be that prick Givens, please be Givens—” He whoops. “Fucking finally! Can it be messy? Please say it can be messy.”