“I dunno.” I shrug, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth. “I guess I just feel like I should remember more of that time in my life, you know? Especially since it seems like such an important time. If I really do have a brother, and we somehow got separated, you’d think that would be the kind of thing I’d remember forever.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean. You don’t remember any of it?”
As he speaks, Theo brushes a lock of hair out of my face. Then he drops his hand to my chest, resting his palm between my breasts as his fingertips trace the line of my collarbone. I’m plenty warm in my tank top and shorts, but goosebumps rise on my skin anyway in response to his touch.
I sigh, making his hand rise and fall. “Not really. Mostly in dreams like this one. I mentioned it once to the therapist I saw for a little while after my amputation, but she didn’t seem to think it was all that surprising. My childhood wasn’t exactly easy, and she said it’s not that uncommon for the brain to block out unpleasant memories or shit that’s hard to deal with—and losing my brother would definitely fit under those headings. So maybe it’s not that weird. But I still hate it. It feels like…”
I trail off, clearing my throat.
“Like?” Theo prompts. His face is gentle and open as he looks down at me, and I know if I don’t answer, he won’t push.
“It feels like I’m letting him down,” I say quietly, clenching my jaw against the emotions that try to rise up with my words. “Like I forgot those things to protect myself, but in doing it, I didn’t protect him. If I just knew where he was, if I knew what happened to him, maybe I could help him. Be a real sister to him. But I can’t fucking remember.”
“Hey, now.” Theo’s brows drop low over his eyes. “That’s not fair, Rose. You didn’t forget on purpose. It’s not like it was a choice you made. You were a kid. It’s not your fault. None of it, no matter what happened to your brother.”
I draw in another breath and let it out, my chest shuddering slightly under Theo’s palm. “I know. Logically, I know that. I just wish I could’ve helped him, you know? Hell, I still wish I could help him, if he’s still alive.” I grimace. “I used to have this stupid fantasy of the two of us reconnecting. Of tracking him down and starting over again, building a real brother-sister relationship.”
Something curls in my belly, and I can’t tell if it’s regret or embarrassment. I drop my eyes, looking down at the sheet that covers our lower halves. “I think I mostly had that fantasy because I was really fucking lonely. I wanted someone on my side. In my corner.”
Theo shifts our positions, settling between my legs as he braces his elbows on either side of my head. From this vantage point, I can see how serious his expression is as he gazes down at me.
“That’s not stupid. I always used to want a sibling when I was growing up. My dad was always busy with work and shit, and my mom? I know she loved me, but she was all wrapped up in my dad, in trying to keep him happy and support him as he built his empire. They loved me, but their love always felt… theoretical. I wanted someone who would love me with no strings attached. Whose love I could see and feel.”
I nod, hooking my legs around his waist. The weight of his body on mine feels like a security blanket, grounding me and banishing the last echoes of the nightmare.
“It took a little while,” he adds, “but I found that eventually. With Marcus and Ryland. That was when I realized that blood doesn’t have to define family. Family can be whatever you want it to be. And I found mine with them.”
“I’m glad.” I smile softly up at him, trailing my fingers up the thick muscles along his spine until I reach the short hair at the base of his neck.
His eyelids droop a little as I drag my nails gently over his scalp, but he blinks and refocuses on me. “For the record, I found it with you too. And so did they.”
My thighs tighten around him, pinning our bodies together as a little thrill runs through me.
Family.
That’s what these men are. And I’m a part of that now.
It won’t make me stop looking for my brother, but Theo is right. Family can be anything we want it to be, and I choose to make mine this. Three beautiful, damaged men who’ve been betrayed by their own families. The three men who were once my shadows and now exist in every part of my life.
Sliding my hand up a bit farther, I palm the back of Theo’s head, bringing his face down toward mine as I lift my own head to meet his kiss.
He kisses me back, his dark cherry and oak scent warm and familiar in my nostrils. And as his hand slides down my body, tracing over the stump of my ruined arm and down the curve of my waist, I melt beneath him, giving myself over entirely to his touch.
The terrifying despair of the dream fades away, replaced by something brighter and so much better.
Happiness.
Hope.
Sunlight is peeking around the curtains on the windows when I open my eyes, filling the room with a dim, warm light.
I stretch and yawn, lifting my arms over my head as I arch my back.
The other side of the bed is empty; I could feel that as soon as I woke up. I’m so attuned to these men that I’m pretty sure I would know if Theo was beside me even if he wasn’t touching me—although maybe the real reason for that is because if he were by my side, he’d definitely be touching me.
Since I showered after my training session yesterday afternoon, I forgo one this morning, sliding out of bed and throwing on a pair of yoga pants and a fresh tank top. I’m sure Ryland will want to spar with me again today, putting the home gym the guys have to good use.
As I pull down the hem of the tank top, I grin slightly at the soreness in my body. My muscles are still a bit stiff, especially in my shoulders, and my ass is a little sore from fucking Marcus in the shower.
I’m not complaining though. About any of it.
All the aches and pains in my body are good ones, as far as I’m concerned. They’re reminders that I’m alive, and—in their own ways—reminders of how much the men I’m living with care about me.
And maybe I’m developing a vicious streak, but I find myself looking forward to my training sessions with Ryland. Waling on a pair of mitts or the heavy bag makes me feel less helpless, even if it doesn’t directly help us solve our problem of what to do about Luca.
I pull my hair up into a rough ponytail and slip on my sneakers before heading for the door, and I roll my shoulders lightly as I start to head down the stairs to the first floor.
But when I’m about halfway down, I stop.
Voices are floating up from somewhere—the living room, I think—and I realize almost immediately that they’re not all voices I know. I recognize Marcus’s deep timbre, and I catch a voice that sounds like Theo’s. But there are two others that are unfamiliar, one male and one female.
I debate about whether to go back upstairs, but the guys never told me anything about keeping my presence here a secret. So after a moment’s hesitation, I keep walking, slowing my steps a little as I strain my ears to pick up more of the conversation.
It’s not until I’m on the first floor and heading toward the living room that I begin to catch more of the actual words being spoken. When I do, my heart thunders in my chest.