“Took you fuckers long enough to get here. I wasn’t sure how long we were going to stay. Grace hasn’t been feeling well,” Carter says, sipping at what is also likely a scotch.
“Seizures or pregnancy?” Oliver immediately asks, a note of concern in his voice. Grace is epileptic, though controlled, but I know Oliver worries about her, especially now that she’s pregnant and can’t take a lot of medications should she need them.
“Shhh. No one else knows yet, asshat.” Carter glances over his shoulder to find the coast all clear before turning back to us. “Pregnancy. Do you think if Grace were having seizures I’d be standing here with a drink in my hand telling you she’s not feeling well?”
“I’d fucking hope not,” Oliver growls.
“She’s fine,” Carter placates. “She’s in the kitchen with Sophia, who’s making her eat.”
“You need to tell everyone already. At least tell Mom.”
Carter shakes his head. “Grace wants to wait until her twelve-week ultrasound, so we know everything is okay with the baby before we do that. Both of us being OBs is a blessing and a curse. We know everything that can go wrong. Soon, though. Only another few weeks.”
Dropping his arm over my shoulder, he drags us to join Luca and Kaplan on one of the many chairs out here on the vast porch. Kaplan lights his cigar, then uses his lighter to help Carter do the same with his, puffing on it as thick plumes of cloying smoke drift up into the air. The rest of us find seats, except me. I sit on the railing of the porch, my eyes cast out to the dark grounds, illuminated only with the soft glow of in-ground lighting and the occasional lamp. Off in the distance, I catch the faintest sound of gurgling water from the fountain in the side garden.
“You have a good weekend, Landon?” Kaplan drawls, though I can tell by his tone there is nothing casual about his question. A point he proves when he follows that up with, “I heard you finally got your dick wet.”
I flip him off without answering, making him chuckle as he and Carter puff on their cigars.
“You went out? To the bar?” Carter questions, and I only nod, still not bothering to look at any of my brothers or Brecken. “I would have met you for a drink.”
“Same,” Brecken says. “Rina was working nights all weekend.”
I don’t reply, but I don’t have to.
“That’s not why he went out,” Luca answers for me.
“I got that, asshole, but I could have met up with him before he met up with whatever lady came onto him,” Brecken finishes.
Only, Elle didn’t come onto me. I came onto her.
Something I never do. Usually, I just sit at the bar and wait, and it happens for me.
Not with her, because she was different from the start.
I don’t have it in me to tell my brothers anything about that night. About how I met someone who is rattling me if for no other reason than we had chemistry in bed, and she now lives next door.
“Was she good at least?” Kaplan persists, and this time I don’t bother with flipping him off. I just ignore him altogether. “You’re broodier and more miserable than usual, which means she must have been.”
And fuck. That… That right there. That fucking hurts.
Because me being fully mute means I’m stewing, and me stewing means I’m so emotionally broken that I can’t handle having good—let alone great—sex with a woman who isn’t Reese because the guilt I feel about that overwhelms me. And everyone here knows this.
I don’t want to be like this.
To still feel this perpetual guilt. A guilt that goes so far beyond grieving and heartache, it should have its own category and special name. But I don’t know how to stop it either. My wife is dead because of me. Stella doesn’t have a mom because of me.
There’s no reconciling that, and there’s no getting over it.
I stopped pretending to smile through it years ago, and now they accept that this is just how I am and what you see is what you get. Well, they accept that most of the time. But Kap’s right.
I’m broodier and more miserable than I typically am.
“Back off,” Luca clips out.
“You twinning up on me? Does that mean I can’t give him the speech?” Kaplan presses.
“No.”
That’s Oliver.
“Absolutely not.”
That’s Brecken.
“Definitely not from an asshole who’s never loved and lost and looks like he’s Stella’s younger brother,” Carter teases Kaplan, who looks the youngest of us despite being the oldest.
“Fuck off with that already. I look my age.”
“No, you don’t,” Luca and Oliver say in unison.
“I have T-shirts that look older than you, brother,” Luca finishes.
“Bullshit you do. Besides, you’re in no place to talk about anything when it comes to age. How much younger is Raven than you? Eleven years, is it?”
Luca chuckles. “That was lame. Not even a good comeback.”
“Whatever, twatwaffle. I want to hear more about this lady Landon refuses—”
“Speaking of Raven, I heard you’re stalking her again.” Carter shifts to Luca, interrupting Kaplan while kicking his feet up on the coffee table.
I guess now we’re even. I gave Carter advice when he came to me after getting Grace pregnant, and now he’s saving me by obviously changing the subject.
“She’s not even home yet, and you’re already all over her. Didn’t you fly to New York to see her perform?”
“I’m not answering that,” Luca dismisses, but the way he says that finally has me shifting my aimless gaze away from the garden over to him. “She’s moving back home soon, and then I’ll be able to see her whenever I want.” He’s frowning, and I have to imagine the reminder of the one he let get away coming back home isn’t something he wants right now.
“Did she return your flowers? Again?” Oliver asks.
“What flowers? No clue what you’re talking about. If you listened to her interview, she never names who sends her those with every performance.”
Oliver rolls his eyes. “You think stalking her around all over the world is a good idea?” Oliver continues. “I hear women really love it when you do that. Especially scorned women who are likely to kick you in the nuts if they see you.”
“Fuck you, fucker. Stalking as we all unfortunately know is often violent, and nothing I’m doing is violent.”
Unfortunately, we do all know because Rina was stalked when she was in college, and it did turn violent. Violent as hell.
“Yeah, how about we don’t talk about stalking?” Brecken grits out, thinking about the same thing we all are.
“Agreed.” Luca nods, staring down at his tumbler as he swirls the liquid in his glass. “Besides, if Raven didn’t still love me, she wouldn’t still be scorned.”
I can’t help the minuscule smile that quirks up the corner of my mouth.
“Is that what she told you? Because last I checked she wants nothing to do with your ugly ass,” Kaplan smarts, blowing smoke rings up into the air before dipping the end of his cigar in his drink and bringing it back up to his lips.
“And you talked to her?”