Kat’s blue eyes sparkled as she nodded. “First question when I walked into the kitchen.” She scrunched her nose up at Ream. “And he bolted.”
Ream shrugged. “I’m not the issue here.” He put the tray onto the patio table, snatched a cracker and stuck it in his mouth.
Kat raised her brows, crossed her arms and looked at Logan. “No, you are.”
Logan chuckled, putting his hands up. “Hey, Mouse wants a big winter wedding, I’m giving her one.”
“Yeah, next February,” Ream said. “And Kitkat won’t get married until after you guys. Some girl bullshit rule.”
“Logan asked Emily first.” Kat objected. “They get married first.”
Ream took a sip of his beer. “What’s the big deal? Tell Eme to pick a place and do it.”
Kat smacked Ream in the arm and there was a mild twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Logan reached for the cheese knife and cut a slice of cheddar. “She wants the whole deal at our farm with Clifford pulling a sleigh and we can’t do that until the place is finished. I’d marry her tomorrow at city hall if she’d let me.”
I laughed. “Wouldn’t that screw over the reporters? Lead singer from Tear Asunder, marries his girl at the old city hall in jeans and t-shirt.” I slapped my knee.
“Logan Theodor Evans, don’t you dare.” Isabelle came up behind Kat and handed my dad the tin foil-wrapped garlic bread to go on the BBQ. “I want a beautiful wedding.” She lowered her voice. “Emily deserves that.”
Before shit could get all sappy, I jumped to my feet. “Hey, Mom.” I snagged Isabelle around the waist and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. She loved that we all called her mom. Isabelle was majestic with long blonde hair that she kept tight in a bun most of the time and had angelic features. She was quiet and refined, but underneath, the woman had guts. She’d risked her life to get away from Logan’s father, who had been some drug and sex trafficking asshole in Mexico.
Isabelle’s long slender fingers cupped my cheek. “Nice to see you, Vincent. You riling up the boys?”
I raised my brows, smiling. “Damn right. They both need a kick in the ass to get their girls to the altar.” I winked at her. “If it was me, I’d have thrown my girl over my shoulder and plopped her on a plane to Vegas and married her kicking and screaming.” But Haven wouldn’t kick or scream. Shit, I doubt I could get her over my shoulder without one hell of a fight.
“Yeah, any chick would be kicking and screaming if she had to marry your ass,” Logan said and tossed a piece of cheese into his mouth.
“Not marrying my ass, she’s marrying my dick.”
“Crisis,” my dad warned in his disappointed tone. The one where you felt like total dirt after you did something he disapproved of.
Ream huffed. “Bro, no chick is marrying that over-used diseased thing.”
I snagged my beer off the table and raised it in the air. “Hey, I’m a religious wrapper.”
“Good to hear, Vincent,” my mom said, coming out onto the patio with Emily. “But why don’t you try keeping it in your pants?”
“Fuck, Mom. I am.”
“Yeah, fuckin’ right,” Ream said, laughing at the absurdity of the idea.
“Language, boys.” My mom used ‘that tone,’ and no matter how old we were, that tone would never lose its effect. Just one of those things a son never outgrew.
Except for the constant niggling of wanting to jump in my car and go get Haven, the evening settled down with Ream at least accepting the fact that I wasn’t moving out of the farm anytime soon. It was likely the fact that Kite stated that the closing date wasn’t for six more weeks and until then, Emily still legally owned it.
Guessed I owed Kite one.
Six weeks. I wasn’t thinking of how long that was to find another place. I was thinking about how long I had with Haven. Most chicks it took me six seconds to get their undivided attention. But Haven . . . I wanted more than her undivided attention. I wanted her to trust me enough to place her shattered pieces in my hand.
I WOKE UP to my phone buzzing on the nightstand. I rolled over and put the pillow over my head. My leg muscles ached from my run last night, having pushed myself farther and longer than usual. The wind had been strong, trying to unhinge me with each step. I refused to give in. I’d win this fight. I’d kill the monsters. I’d watch them bleed until they no longer lived inside me.
But they did. My last few episodes proved that.
Buzz.
I sighed and tossed the pillow aside.
“Pick up your phone,” Crisis called through the door.
Oh, my God. “What are you doing outside my door?”
“Pick up your phone and find out.” I heard a thump on my door.
I reached over and snagged my phone.
Move it, Ice. We’re taking out the big tractor.
I scrolled.
Don’t ignore me, baby.
Third text.
I made coffee.
Fourth.
Okay, maybe not yet, but I will.
Fifth.
I’ll just sit outside your door until you get your ass out here.
I glanced at the time on the screen. Nine. “It’s Sunday. I’m going back to sleep,” I called, then tossed my phone aside and rolled over, tucking the sheet under my chin.
The door burst open and quickly shut again. Crisis leaned against it, his lips pushed together with that familiar crease between his eyes. “Our brother is a fuckin’ Terminator. I swear he has radar in his head that goes off every time I talk to you.”
My eyes narrowed in on him; he was so full of crap. “Crisis. Get out.” My brother wasn’t—
A light knock sounded on the door. “Sis?”
Shit. I sat up, making certain to keep the sheets covering me because I was wearing a pink silk negligee with skimpy spaghetti straps and it barely covered my breasts. Kat had bought it for me when I first came to live with them, along with a drawer full of panties and bras. She said, ‘every girl deserved to have beautiful negligee next to her skin.’ At first, I balked, internally of course, wanting nothing to do with anything sexy. But after a few months feeling the soft silky material on my hands as I pushed them aside in my drawer . . . I tried one of them on.