by Finn, Emilia
“Here.” Riley Cruz lifts up his driver’s license, which shows an address that is strangely on this very street, and then he presents a second ID card that clearly states Checkmate Security right beside a picture that is half smile, half scowl. “Spencer installed your system. Kane took your first call. I was closest when Bishop called the job, and so here I am.” He looks over my shoulder and glares at my guests. “I can remove one or all of them, or I can come inside and play visitor too. Your call.”
“Wait. You would…” My brows pinch together. “You would come inside and hang out? What kind of service have I paid for?”
Finally, his eyes come back to mine, and his smile notches up. “Checkmate means we’re gonna keep you safe, no matter what. I already heard a lot of what was said through the door, which means Uncle David can fuck right off.”
Riley comes through my doorway with his stick, but to my eye, there’s no limp, no need for assistance. He stops in front of my uncle, broadens his chest, and does his job in a really sexy way. “You’re gonna walk, or I’m gonna boot you out. Your choice.”
David lifts his chin, pride and arrogance in one. “My niece. None of your business.” He backs up to the seat he’s been guarding since he arrived, stops when his calves touch the front of the chair, then he lowers himself down into it and tempts fate when the whole thing groans under his weight. But it holds.
I’m impressed as hell when it holds.
“Move me, cripp,” David challenges.
Riley’s jaw tenses. “How about you join me in the cripp life?”
Before I can parse his implication, Riley slams the stick against David’s shin so hard that I hear the crack. I’d like to think it’s the stick failing under such a harsh blow, but my stomach says it was bone that gave way, and not the titanium walking assistant.
David’s cries echo through the room, and the girls scream from surprise, and perhaps a little shock.
“I heard a lot of shit about you mooching and cheating on your woman.” Riley grabs the front of David’s shirt, and yanks him out of the chair with one hand. “I’m not the kind of guy who’s gonna let that slide. And it just so happens I have it on audio that Nadia asked you to leave. Therefore, you’re trespassing.” He shoves David toward the door so fast that I have to jump out of the way with a squeak, then he tosses him, Captain-America-style, off my porch and onto the grass, where he lands with a splat.
Smiling and kind-eyed, Riley looks back to me. “And the other two?”
“Er…” I look to Drew, to Arlo. “Your choice, girls. We can talk, or you can leave.”
“I’m leaving.” Drew bounds to her feet and snatches up her designer purse. She skitters across the room in heels too high for today’s errand, then squeezes between me and my security, and out my front door to race to her daddy.
Turning back to Arlo, I lift a brow and wait.
“I… uh…” She looks somewhat like me, with the blonde hair, the green eyes. She’s half an inch shorter than me, several years younger, and has ears bigger than mine. But she was also the quieter of her pairing with Drew. The more thoughtful. The more curious. “I’m going to stay, if that’s alright with you, Nadia.” She stands from the couch, but remains all the way on her side of the room. “Um… I’m not… I don’t want to fight, and I don’t want to contest anything in the will. I just…”
“New direction in life?” Riley questions with a crooked grin. “Perfect.”
Threat gone, he turns to me and lifts a brow. “We good?”
“I… uh… sure, I guess.”
My heart continues to race. My adrenaline is high, which started because of my fight with Mitchell, our breakup—it was a breakup, right? My stomach says yes—and ratcheted up at the arrival of my newest visitors: David, Arlo, Drew, and Riley. My uncle is crying on the lawn, my cousin is trying to help him stand, but failing when her heels sink into my grass, and my other cousin, the baby of the family… is staying.
“Can you guys see everything I do?” I ask Riley quietly. “Will you see me walking around naked?”
His cheeks blaze. He blushes! I made him blush. “Yeah, if you dance naked in the living room, we’re gonna see.”
“That’s, uh… probably something I should have discussed with Spencer before he left.”
“There’s an instruction booklet here somewhere,” Riley murmurs for me. “Spence would have left it somewhere handy. Read it, it’ll explain how to turn your system on and off, how to turn some on, and leave others off, and it’ll explain what happens if you hit the panic button.”
My eyes widen. “I have a panic button?”
“You do,” he chuckles. “Did you even ask what you’re paying for?”
I shake my head and bring a hand to my cheek. Now I’m blushing! “I just needed a little extra security, and word around town is Checkmate is the best. I, uh… had other things on my mind while Spencer was here.”
“I heard all about that too.” Smiling again, Riley grabs the screen door and studies my family out front. “At Checkmate, we make it our business to see all. To know all.”
“So you all know about… me and Mitchell?”
Riley shrugs. “We do.”
“And are you aware of Spencer and Abby’s… thing?”
He merely nods.
“If Spencer snitches to Abby about me and Mitch, then I’m dead meat. And if he doesn’t snitch and she finds out, he’s dead meat. I don’t want to be the reason she gets mad at the first man who’s ever made her look twice.”
“Why don’t you take care of your business, and don’t worry about anything Spence says or does? He won’t snitch, because that’s just not who he is. And he can handle any heat Abigail tosses his way. I kinda think he’s smitten, which makes her bad temper his problem.” Chuckling under his breath, he moves through my door, only to glare when David makes his way to my curb.
Riley’s eyes come back to mine and soften. “Don’t sweat Spence. He’s got his life under control. And just for the record, any guy who is good and decent, who maybe has some control issues, needs the most forgiveness. He’s doing his best not to let his world explode, and those he tries to control most are the ones he loves the most.”
“You’re taking up arms for Mitchell?” My eyes itch from tears that want to fall, but my lips manage to quirk up to hide my vulnerability. “I know you mean well, but what you said could be quite dangerous to a woman who doesn’t know better. He tries to control you because he loves you. Forgive him. That’s terrible advice.”
Riley steps through the doorway with a smile. “And you know damn well we’re not talking about random controlling pricks. I preceded my statement with the bit about being good and decent. I know you know the difference—I heard you shouting it at your piece-of-shit uncle.”
Letting the screen door close, he stomps his way to the edge of my porch and watches on as David and Drew dive into their car, and the engine starts with a scrape of the gear box. Then they’re gone, and so is he.
Sighing, I turn to Arlo and wait for her to lift her head. Face me, you coward. Own up to your mistakes, or own up to being a conniving bitch. “Why are you here?”
“Do you remember that time we camped in my mom and dad’s backyard?” Her voice crackles, and her fingers twine together and telegraph her nervousness. “It was summer, but somehow still a little cold.”
My lips twitch, despite my wariness. “Drew couldn’t hack it.” I remember back to that night; the fun we had, the smiles we shared. “Too cold, too scary, too many bugs.”
Arlo nods, and lets a small smile creep along her face. “I stayed out all night with you. We talked until the sun came up.”
“Then Aunt Tracey rubbed calamine lotion onto all of our mosquito bites.”
Giggling, though it comes with a distinct edge of desperation and grief, Arlo turns away and makes her way into my kitchen. “I miss her, Nadia.” She runs her fingertips over my green counter, perhaps remembering the thing I said about green sheets.
“I got caught on the wrong side of the divorce.”
“You chose wrong.” I stop by the doorway and fold my arms when she makes her way around the counter, past the oven I installed with my own hands, and past the instruction manual I’ll have to make time to read.
Despite Riley’s visit today, my security system isn’t here to catch my intruders and have Checkmate Security come and kick them out onto the grass, but rather, to aid me in a fact-finding mission. I want to know who’s here. How many of them. Why.
“Arlo?” I wait for her eyes to come back to mine. “You made your choice, and you chose easy, lazy, and mean. You broke your mother’s heart these last couple years.”
Tears fill my cousin’s eyes, spill over her lashes, and track their way over splotchy cheeks.
Still, I forge on. “You chose wrong. All she ever wanted was for you to appreciate what you had, and to be a good person.”
“Hence the stipulations,” she murmurs. “The doing good deeds, the being a good person.”
“She’s not asking much, ya know? It shouldn’t have been such a fight between the three of us.”
“Dad won’t leave it alone.” She brings a hand up and swipes beneath her eye. “He acts like there’s a huge conspiracy and the world is against us. He convinced us you’re the monster.”
Surprise, surprise. “And I have zero desire to defend myself to someone whose opinion I do not value.”
“I want to try,” she whimpers. “I want to do the things in the will.”
“For the money?” I sneer.
I know that’s exactly what the will says; nevertheless, it makes me angry that there’s financial gain for being a decent human being.
“Not for the money,” she answers quietly. “You don’t have to pay out. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t for now.”
Curious, I glance up and meet her eyes. “Huh?”
“Save it for me. Hold on to it. Let me do this because it’s the right thing to do. And maybe later, when I’ve got my priorities straightened out, I’ll use that money to buy a forever home. Something to settle into.”
“That…” I let my heart race away with me. My smile. My hopes and wishes. “Sounds perfect. Did you bring anything?” I look toward the living room, though I know she arrived here with nothing but the clothes on her back and her purse. “Luggage?”
She shakes her head and leans a hip against the counter. “Nope.”
“Wanna borrow a pair of sweats and eat bad food for the rest of the afternoon?” I step toward the counter and snag my instruction manual. “I just broke up with a guy my heart bleeds for, I have homework to do, and my hormones demand fat-girl sweats and a movie afternoon.”
“Well…” She forces a smile and tries to stop the trembling of her lips. “Pretty sure I just broke up with my dad and sister, I’m somewhat homeless, definitely carless, I have no clothes, and I’m standing in a room with the girl I once idolized and considered my best friend, even though you didn’t think the same of me in return. We’ve been fighting for too long, and I don’t wanna do that anymore. So sure,” she nods. “Sweats, ice cream, and a little wine would really help me out right now.”
“No wine for you, you’re not old enough. But you can pour for me and help me bid good riddance to this shitty fucking day.”
* * *
I should be crying about the fact I sent Mitchell away, and he’s neither called me, nor have I received a murderous call from my boss about sleeping with her brother. I should be freaking out about my cousin being in my space, knowing my troubles, and being in the perfect position to fuck me up from inside my own home if she wanted to do so. And truly, I should be screaming about the Post-It note I find on my fridge when I wake the next morning, hungover and dehydrated, while Arlo continues to sleep off our late night.
He loves you, the Post-It reads. Stop being so stubborn.
There are a million reasons I should be losing my damn mind and freaking out about the things that can’t be controlled, and yet, my entire being focuses on my phone screen now, while I watch security footage of my own living room from last night.
Arlo and I made a fort of sorts—blankets, pillows, snacks, and booze—and with the TV blaring while we dozed, we bonded, and grieved our own separate issues.
The issue I’m having now as I watch the feed isn’t that I was laying with a person I considered the enemy only a day ago.
No.
The issue is that a fully grown man walked through while we slept, he switched the TV off when it was no longer being used, fixed my blanket when I rolled into a ball from the cold, and then he wrote on a Post-It and stuck it to my fridge on his way out with the leftover pizza Arlo and I barely touched. He took my milk, my pizza, and a loaf of bread, and ambled out my back door, leaving it unlocked and solving the mystery of why the hell my back door was always unsecure.
Thank you, Checkmate Security for answering the question I’ve been asking since my first night here.
Luckily for me, I read the instruction manual and learned how to cut Checkmate out, so they won’t storm the castle the second they find someone inside my home.
Somehow, for some insane reason, I trust my intruder not to hurt me—and I buy extra bread and milk purely to help him out.
It’s a coexistence that confuses me. A coexistence Mitchell will never accept or understand. But it works for me. And it helps my friend; even if I’ve never met him.
22
Mitchell
Cardium… Crushed
These days, I get to see Nadia at least four days a week. Which is pretty fuckin’ decent for a relationship that imploded mere minutes after being intimate. Though decent is subjective, I suppose, considering every one of my four instances a week are chaperoned by my sister, and always take place in the shop, amid flowers, customers, Roy—the high school almost graduate—and Arlo, Nadia’s surprise houseguest, who is still here, weeks after her first arrival.
From all accounts, and I’ve poked around, it appears Abigail has no clue that Nadia and I were ever dating. It’s never brought up by my sister, and Nadia sure as shit acts the part when I’m around.
Nadia’s back to being perfectly pleasant with a side of taunting. And though I could wish the taunting was a slip on her part, a way for her to express that she’s not done with us yet, I suspect it’s more because Abigail expects it.
If Nadia doesn’t play her part, Abby will figure it all out. And right now, she doesn’t need any more to deal with.
Sadly, my sister seems to be even more heartbroken than I am. Despite my willing her to remain at home and behind locked doors forever, evidence suggests that she and Spencer had a thing going on. A thing I don’t approve of. A thing that makes me sick to my stomach. But a thing nonetheless, because now he’s traveling for work, and my sister can barely force a smile anymore.
It pains me to admit—like, hornet stings in my every pore kind of pain—but I’ve come to realize my sister may be in love, and I know this only because his absence chips away at her very soul. For every minute he’s not in town, Abby’s light dims. Her smiles come less often.
Her dinner invitations to me and the guys are as frequent as always, but her presence at the table does not mean she’s present of mind. She’s obsessed with her phone, and cries if she misses a single call. And this from the woman who hated her phone just a few short months ago.
Plus, Abby spends more and more time at the hospital visiting her sick friend than she ever did before.
A spark of hope came in the form of word from Troy, who says that not only is he in the country and not a hell of a long way away, but he’s coming home soon. Normally, this would elicit squeals and a happy dance from my baby sister, yet Abby can barely fake a smile.
So the thing between Nadia and me… What was once a secret to save Nadia’s job—and possibly her skull—is now a secret to save Abigail’s feelings, and to not make a sad woman sadder.
And Nadia… seems completely fine with all that.
I guess, in his world, the world where he’s tying the knot with the woman of his dreams, and his best friend—her brother—only hit him once for it, everything is perfect.
Luc plops down on the chair beside me while his friends laugh and make dicks of themselves at an outdoor skate park. The place is deserted but for us, and though this is a typical hangout for kids during the day, none are here right now, which means the booze is flowing, and the faceplants are excessive.
A skate park… not a typical venue for a bachelor party, but Luc’s friends are already hitched, some are already parents, and not a single one of them was tempted by the idea of a stripper and cocaine—as Kari so generously offered.
No. Instead of sex and bad decisions, we’ve all been plowed with booze, given a skateboard, and told to have fun.
Unlucky for me, since I’m the only one of Luc’s friends who can’t skate.
While the rest of them are Tony Hawk-ing it up on the halfpipe and looking like total pros, fearless even without helmets and padding—even if they’re somewhat shaky, and giggling about it—I’m the idiot who can’t stand on a board without falling, which means I long ago gave up trying.
I’d rather sit and drink without the added nonsense of wheels.
“Mitch?” Luc knocks my shoulder when I remain silent. “It’s party night, and your sour face is making my dick soft.”
Snorting, even against my wishes, I chuckle and shake my head. “Why the fuck do you want a hard cock while out with a bunch of dudes, anyway?”
“Saving it for my girl.” He smirks and looks toward his friend, the one they call Scotch, as he tears up the halfpipe and risks life and limb for the sake of looking awesome.