I take a deep breath and glance at my brothers. I could tell them about being the Darling Dog, and they’d go apeshit and start another fight. Someone would get hurt, and the cycle would continue. I’m not about to lose another of my brothers.
“Same,” I lie. Whatever the Darlings do to me, it won’t hurt worse than what they’ve already done. I can take it. The only thing I can’t survive is the loss of my family. I would trade anything in the world for Royal. If they leave my brothers alone, I’ll take every bit of their wrath, play their sick games, endure the shame and humiliation.
I can feel King’s eyes on me, the cloud of doubt around him, but he can’t read me like Royal can. And Royal’s not here to tell him.
“Did any of them say anything to you?” King asks.
“Yeah,” I say with a shrug, like it doesn’t matter. “They were assholes, but I handled it.”
“You handled it?” Baron asks, looking skeptical.
“Yes,” I say, widening my eyes at him. “Believe it or not, I can do some things without you holding my hand.”
“Like jerk off Devlin?” Duke asks.
Baron reaches over and pops him on the back of the head with a scowl. “Too soon, dude.”
“Sorry,” Duke says, grinning at me. “If you don’t want us to treat you like our little sister, and you’re one of us now, you’re going to have to take the abuse.”
I smirk at him. “You want to hear about Devlin’s dick?”
“No!” comes a chorus from all three of my brothers.
I can’t believe I’m capable of laughing, but the next second, I’m joining Dolly and Dixie as they giggle at our banter. My brothers glare.
“I’m older than you two, anyway,” I say to the twins. “Which makes you my little brothers.”
They groan in unison. “Trust me, sis, there’s nothing little about me,” Duke says, slinging his arm around Dolly. “Is there, sweetheart? Tell her who’s the big man on campus.”
“I thought you didn’t want to hear about Devlin’s dick,” she says.
This time, we all crack up so hard that people turn to stare. As I wipe my tears, I see Devlin watching, his eyes dark and a frown creasing his brow. I swallow hard, and guilt twists inside me. I can’t help but wonder if I’m dying laughing while my twin is really dying.
nine
Crystal
There’s a say by Confucius that goes, “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” I know I might get hurt, but there’s something Confucius didn’t take into account. And that’s what happens if the person you’re seeking revenge against has already dug your grave. There’s nothing left to do but lie down in it. And fuck if I’m going to lie down in my grave before there’s someone lying in that second grave, too.
When the door to the six-car garage slides open, all the spots are filled. A tiny, cherry red convertible with rental plates sits in Duke’s spot.
“What the fuck,” he mutters. “Dad brought his girlfriend over when Mom’s home?”
“Daddy doesn’t have a girlfriend,” I snap. But my mind returns to all the long nights, the nights when he hasn’t come home at all.
Because he was at the office, though. My father would never cheat.
Baron snorts, but he shuts up when I cast a glare at him. We park and climb out, entering the house through the garage.
“Who the fuck took my parking spot?” Duke yells as the three of them tromp in like a heard of wildebeests.
“Shut up,” I hiss, elbowing him. “It could be the mayor or—.”
“Who the fuck’s using that language to their beloved grandmother?” says a voice so heavily accented with Italian bravado that there’s no mistaking it. Grandpa Dolce steps out of the kitchen with a spatula in one hand looking like he’s ready to raise hell—and welts on all our thighs for using that language around his wife. Ironically, his cussing would put a ship full of the saltiest sailors to shame.
“Nonni,” I say, running forward and wrapping my arms around him. He’s as tall as dad, though his shoulders are now stooped, and his hair is steely grey. Ten minutes with him, and it’s easy to see where the mafia rumors came from. Trade the full head of hair for a mustache, and Grandpa Dolce could have taken Marlon Brando’s role inThe Godfather.
“My little sugar crystal,” he says, wrapping his strong arms around me and squeezing. Though he’s no bigger than the other men in my family, I feel small and protected in his arms. His aura is larger than him, larger than life.