by Emilia Finn
“Does she know you’re here?”
He points to the ground. “In this auditorium? Or this town?”
“This town. Does she know you live here?”
He snorts. “She and I ate breakfast together at the gym this morning while Jamie trained.”
I whip my eyes to Jamie and narrow them. “Really? She’s on timeshare with other men now? I don’t seem to recall that detail in our agreement.”
“For fuck’s sake. You’re as dramatic as she is, you know that?” He turns away and shakes his head. “Timeshare, my ass. Sit down, Will.” He points toward the stage when the lights begin to flicker to announce the show is almost ready to start. “Sit by me and you can continue to bitch even while she’s dancing.”
“It’s not front row.” I step away from Reid, away from Iz and Jimmy, away from Evie and the boulder-baby. Instead, I stop where Jamie stops, and glance down with a lifted brow. “This is third row.”
“Front row seats were already bought out.”
“So we go to the front row,” I explain slowly, “we lift the fat asses who thought they could buy those seats, and we place those people here where they belong. Problem solved.”
He only laughs and drops down in his seat. “Yeah, and a new charge on the ol’ rap sheet,” he smarts. “Sit, Will. You know she’s gonna kick your ass if you create a scene.”
“Down in front, please. We’re trying to see.”
My heart jumps, my breath catches, and my neck wrenches as I look to my right and meet the bright blue eyes of Olivia Conner herself. Fourth row, right behind me, right beside that fucker I was introduced to last month.
Olivia wears a dress tonight, one of those wraparound kind with the tie at the front, which means the way she’s sitting – one leg crossed over the other – causes the split in her dress to ride up and expose a fuck load of creamy white thigh.
The dress is red and white, her skin pale – too pale – her hair black as night. She’s a study in contradictions. A study in all the things guys like me can never have unless we steal.
But hell, nobody ever said I was opposed to theft.
“Olivia Conner.” I sit, but twist my torso and rest my arm on the back of the seat so I don’t have to look away. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I’d have brushed my hair or something.”
She smiles and reveals a perfect set of glistening teeth. “I could say the same about you; well, not the hair thing. No one mentioned Quinn’s brother would be back in town so soon.”
Quinn’s brother.
Not the love of Olivia’s life. Not the handsome rogue she’s been dreaming about for years. And not William, the one who holds her heart…
I simply get the throwaway title, to show me where I belong.
When the douchebag on her left clears his throat and bumps Olivia’s arm with his elbow, she jerks forward with surprise, and blanches at his look of expectation.
“Oh, shoot. How rude of me.” She turns a little to face her date, and places her delicate hand on his knee. “Brenten, um… this is William Quinn. Quinn’s brother.”
The guy narrows his eyes, grinds his jaw, and when Olivia makes to pull away from his leg, slaps his hand down over hers to keep her prisoner. He looks to me with an air of derision and, well, snobbery. “William Quinn…” he ponders with a fuckin’ sneer, “is Quinn’s brother?” He looks between us with a lifted brow that doesn’t indicate curiosity, but intolerance. “So Quinn’s name is… Quinn Quinn?”
I say nothing. I look away and ignore his very existence, and instead, I study that split in Olivia’s dress, even when everyone in a six-foot radius knows I’m doing it. Maybe she’s the princess in her family, the naïve, protected one. But she’s not a child, and she owns curves only a woman could possess.
Which makes her my mouse, and me, the tomcat.
“It’s a long story,” Liv says when I continue to stare in silence. “Super long story that’ll eventually end with Quinn’s last name becoming Kincaid, so…”
I smile and glance up when she squeezes her thighs tight. “Moot point. How are you, Olivia?”
She looks past me to the stage. “I’m actually trying to watch a dance recital, so if you could—”
“I like your dress,” I cut in. “And your hair is shiny as hell. New shampoo?”
She’s trained well. Perhaps she went to a boarding school for princesses or something, because instead of the boot to the face my sister would deliver to a guy for this behavior, Olivia merely readjusts her posture, and turns toward her date. She smiles for him – more powerful than any kick Quinn has ever delivered – and wraps her arms around his. “I’m certain he’ll turn away once the music starts. How was work today?”
“Turn around, fool.” Jamie grabs my shoulder and spins me to the front. “She’s protected, and you already knew she had a man.”
“Did I ever tell you the story about the Mona Lisa?”
He snorts and relaxes back into his seat. “No, you didn’t. What about it?”
“Bulletproof glass, security cameras, sneeze shields… protected.” I grin and glance back over my shoulder to catch her eyes. “And yet, that beautiful painting is stared at all day long.”
“That may be so,” he murmurs and yanks me back when the crowd hushes and a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound woman steps onto the stage in tiger print and six-inch heels. “But the bulletproof glass remains, and there’s another man sitting beside her tonight. Get ready;” he nods toward the stage, “Q’s coming on first with the babies. She wanted to lead them out while Bean stays back and prepares for her parts. Also, Ben’s coming.”
I let my eyes move to the door to the side of the stage as Ben Conner and his best friend Mac Blair step through together and head toward the first row. “Bulletproof glass? And those motherfuckers got first row?”
Jamie grins. “He’s the only protection she’ll ever need. Move along, Will. Find something else to look at.”
Two hours, one intermission, one super-sleuth episode of diving for cover and not letting my sister see me watching her show, and only six thousand glances over my shoulder so I could check out the raven-haired beauty sitting just two feet behind me – she looked, every fucking time – the lights come back on at the end of a dance recital that, if I said the dancing didn’t leave me misty-eyed, I would be telling a bold faced lie.
The show was so beautiful, so elegant, so fucking choregraphed and perfect, and, according to the little booklet that I may or may not have pocketed a dozen of for keepsake memories, all my sister’s doing.
Because I’m an idiot – because I didn’t think ahead – I forgot about the tradition of giving dancers a bouquet of flowers at the end of a recital. I was more concerned about seeing Quinn that the thought of flowers didn’t even cross my mind. But Jimmy Kincaid has my back, because as the house lights come up and the crowd begins to move, he carries two massive bouquets down the aisle and thrusts one against my chest as he passes by. “One for my daughter.” He flashes a wicked grin. “One for yours.” Then he keeps moving until he joins the line of family who want to see the dancers and feel some of the magic that they wield on stage.
I haven’t seen my sister in the flesh for an entire year. The last time I saw her, it was literally a case of dump and run. Tears, adrenaline, fear, and panic. It was the choice I wasn’t sure I’d ever truly be able to make, but the choice I knew in my heart was right. It was me speeding into the distance, squealing tires, cops chasing, dead guys laying on studio floors, and a smoking gun in my hand.
The last time I saw my sister face to face was the day I killed a man. The day I knew it was time to let her go.
But now it’s time I come home again, to try to find a new normal, get a job, fulfill a few promises.
I join the line of Kincaids and stand beside Jamie while we wait, but I remain hidden, fold my neck to stay lower, and stand behind some of the older fighters. The younger generation – my generation – aren’t quite as big as their daddies, so I
stay behind Bobby Kincaid and inch my way closer.
“She’s gonna cry,” Jamie murmurs. “She thinks she’s so fucking badass, such a thug,” he rolls his eyes, “but she’s gonna blubber all over you when she sees you.”
“Good,” I grunt out as the crowd thickens and folks start bumping into each other. “She owes me a hug.”
“She’s probably gonna cuss you out for not telling her you’re in town.” He bumps my shoulder with his. “She was mad before the show, because you hadn’t called her yet today and you knew it was a special day for her.”
“She’ll get over it.” My heart pounds as we inch forward. My hands turn sweaty. The perfume coming from the flowers damn near turns me woozy. But I stay in line, I remain standing, and my stomach almost drops out when Jamie steps toward his sister and pulls her in for a hug.
“You did good, Bean.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, and hugs her around the flowers their father gave her. “You’re getting better every time.”
“It felt good.” She pulls back and angles in my direction. It’s a natural instinct when surrounded by bodies and hugging arms, she’s merely making her way from one to the next. But then her eyes come to mine, and she stops with a squeak. “Oh my god.”
I grin and open my arms for a hug. “Hey there, Lucy.”
“Holy shit.” She steps in and presses her cheek to my chest for a beat. “She’s going to lose her damn mind.” Then she pulls back and holds my arms as she does a weird tip-toe jig. “She’s going to squeal.”
“Finger’s crossed she’s happy to see me.”
Lucy swipes a hand under her eye. There are no tears there, but I guess she’s preparing. “She’s going to lose it. When did you get back?”
“About twenty seconds before the show started.” I release her when the next set of arms pull her in for a hug. But her eyes remain on me. Her smile.
“You guys did an amazing job,” I continue. “Your song choices are always awesome.”
“Yeah, well,” she laughs. “I was raised on Eminem, not The Wiggles. It was inevitable I would choose something a little heavier now that I’m doing this for a living.”
“Makes watching these things a little more bearable.”
“Oh please,” she snorts. “As if you don’t watch Soph’s legs and salivate.”
“I watch your legs too, Luce.” I smile for her, and chuckle when her cheeks warm. “There ain’t a man in this place who doesn’t.”
“Watch yourself.” Jamie smacks my chest. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”
I turn to him and sneer. “You’re dating my sister, motherfucker. You don’t get to lecture me on this.”
“You and I could probably talk, though.” Mac Blair – Lucy’s man – steps forward and offers a hand. “My girl, my legs. You want me to lecture you?”
I pull him in and slap a hand to his back. “I had no clue I would miss you people. I swear.” I step back and grit my teeth when I realize all this hugging is crushing my sister’s flowers. “She put on an awesome show.”
“She always does.” He pulls Lucy under his arm and presses a kiss to her temple. “But Quinn’s on a tear. She’s pissed you didn’t call today.”
I laugh. “I figured she’d dance better if she had some anger to go with it. Like transferring your passions to the stage, or some such thing.”
He snorts. “She’s gonna transfer her passions to your face via her fist if you keep that shit up. Oh.” He clears his throat, and stands taller when she comes into view. She hasn’t seen me yet, but I sure as hell see her. “Stand tall. Make yourself presentable.”
“Why the fuck am I nervous?” I reach up and touch my throat, as though I’m wearing a tie and need to loosen it. My hair… is it neat? My shirt… is it straight? “What’s up with that shit?”
“It’s been awhile,” Jamie murmurs and stares at my sister in a way that pisses me off. “It’s normal for you to feel nervous. Fuck, she’s pretty.”
“Eyes to yourself,” I growl. “She’s my baby sister, which means you have to mind your manners.”
She looks to him first. The love of her life, her other half, her soulmate, yada yada yada. It’s natural she would seek him out in a crowd. But then her eyes stray a little to the left and stop on mine.
From smiling, to a quivering jaw. From eyes that danced with happiness, to eyes that now shimmer with tears.
“Will?”
She moves slowly past folks who want to step in and congratulate her. She brushes hands away, and lets silent tears fall. She doesn’t do the ugly cry, the messy cry, the loud, attention-seeking stuff. No, it’s worse. Because she really is the martyr. Silent tears track over her cheeks and onto her lips. Tears fill her eyes to bursting, but she only lets a few fall. She presses her lips together to try to lessen the way they shake, and she clasps her hands together… again, with the shaking.
“Is this… are you…” She draws a breath. “Oh shit.”
“Your show was amazing.” I step toward her and offer the bouquet with shaking hands and a throbbing heart.
I kind of expected her to run at me for a hug. I was hoping for some kind of Hollywood-type reunion, with squealing glee and happy tears. Instead, she watches me the way a young woman might watch a thug in an alleyway. I’m dangerous, untrusted, unpredictable.
“The… uh…” I hold onto the flowers when she looks at them but doesn’t make a move to accept them. “The thing Lucy did, with the way she flipped into the air… that was cool.”
She watches me. Studies me.
Are we really strangers now?
“Um… and I know she was the one who did the flip…” I clear my throat. “But you choreographed that, right?”
Another tear spills.
To my left, Olivia steps up, and stops to watch my world crumble.
“Bubbles?” My voice cracks. “You, uh…”
“You didn’t call me this afternoon,” she croaks out and lets her gaze flicker back to the flowers I hold. “I was mad, because it’s dance night, and I was really nervous. I thought I was gonna puke.” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder, like maybe she really did puke, stage right. “I was shaking, and pukey, and you said you would call me.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” I rasp past a scratchy throat. “I was here.” I do the same thing she did, and point a thumb over my shoulder. “Third row, since fuckface over here,” I nod toward Mac, “bought up all the first-row seats.”
“You watched the whole thing?” She takes another step forward. Shaky and hesitant, but at least she’s not moving backward. “The entire show?”
“I got here a couple minutes before the cougar came onstage to announce the dances were starting.”
She looks to Jamie, tilts her head a little, and furrows her brows. “You knew he would be here.”
He grins. “Maybe.”
She looks back to me and lets another tear fall loose. “Are you home now?”
I swallow my nerves, then nod.
“Forever?”
I nod again.
“Will you live with us?”
I look to Jamie and recall the last time I spent the night in the same home as them. I found my sister’s discarded panties on the living room floor, then as I made my way upstairs, I heard them fucking and had to control the Hulk-like rage that insisted I kill a certain guy who stands beside me now. Maybe time heals most wounds, but I don’t forget that shit. I’ve tried, but those sounds have been burned to my brain for life.
“Um… For a night or two,” I concede. “But then I’m out. I’ll get an apartment in town and stay close.”
She shakily accepts the flowers and peers down into the bouquet. “Do you promise?” she asks. “To stay here?”
“Yeah.” I test her out with a single step forward. “I promise. Forever.”
It seems everyone in the auditorium stops their own celebrations, and instead holds their breath as we await Quinn’s final decision. Acceptance, or rejection?
Tension hangs thick in the air, emotions are high, and my sister could easily break my heart with a callous shake of her head. But then she throws the bouquet at Jamie, herself at me, and wraps her arms around my neck with a sobbing howl that releases a hundred people so they can exhale that sigh of relief they were holding on to.
I take my baby sister in my arms and squeeze extra tight when she cries against my chest. She’s not one for public displays of emotion, so she buries her face in my shirt and tries to hide her tears.
“I missed you,” she sobs. “Dammit, Will. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.” I press a kiss to her hair. It’s tied up in a bun, and sprayed to a rock solid mass at the top of her head, which leaves a funky taste on my lips, but despite that, I press a second kiss to her hair, a third. “It hurt me to stay away, Bubbles. I swear, it hurt.”
“Why’d you stay gone?” She pulls back and swipes a hand under her eye to clean up messy mascara. “The police said you wouldn’t be arrested for what happened. You didn’t have to leave me, Will.”
“I did have to leave you.” I cup her face, and slide my thumbs beneath her eyes to wipe away more tears. “First of all, you needed to learn how to be you without me being on your heels all the damn time.”
“Maybe I like having you on my heels,” she counters on a cry. “I didn’t mind it.”
“You needed time for you, Bubbles. You needed to work and function and love and be a family like a normal person. Our codependence wasn’t healthy, so I needed to give you that space.”
“Sounds like a convenient excuse for you to ditch me,” she argues tearfully. “Say it was for me, but really, you wanted a little alone time.”
I shrug, and let my hands fall until I hold hers. “It was for you, and it was for me. It was for a million different reasons, and it was important. But now I’m back.”
“Do you have a job?” She searches my eyes. “I could help you find something. This is a small town, and after a week, you’ll have met everyone at least once. The Kincaids know people, Soph and Jay and them know people; between us all, we’ll be able to find you something that pays well and keeps you out of jail.”