Lexi Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 25)

by Faleena Hopkins

“So happy for you, Lex,” smiles Sam.

  “Thank you guys. I am over him. I can’t believe it took me this long but it feels so great! I don’t know what I ever saw in Brad. He’s seventeen years older than I am, totally afraid of commitment, doesn’t want kids. So what if his mop is adorable and he really knows how to keep me on my toes? So what?!”

  “You can do so much better, Lexi,” Zoe smiles.

  Sam agrees, “Of course you can. You’re amazing. And I am behind you whatever you decide.”

  “Thank you, guys.” We hold up our glasses. “To never seeing Brad again!”

  “Lexi!” comes a shout through the front door, followed by a frantic knock. “Lexi!”

  “Brad?!”

  “Lexi!!!”

  I jump up, dash-limp over as fast as I can, fingers fumbling to unlock it, “Brad!?”

  “Lexi!!”

  “Brad!!”

  “The deadbolt,” Samantha says, “You locked the deadbolt.”

  Twisting my whole body with it, I swing open the door. “You drove all the way over?”

  He pulls me into his arms. “I’m so sorry!”

  I melt, “I’m sorry, too!”

  “I should never have called you Alexis!”

  “It’s okay, I forgive you!”

  My sister mutters, “Zoe, hand me that bottle,” but I don’t even hear her as I’m showered with kisses and dragged back into the wicked dance.

  Willingly.

  Chapter Three

  LEXI

  T hree Months Later.

  O n a deliciously loud Saturday night at The Local on Ponce, we’re splitting a pitcher of craft-brewed Orpheus IPA, awesomely titled “Transmigration of Souls.”

  Zoe, Sam, and I, are wearing ultra-tight jeans, super stylish boots, and blouses that match our varying personalities.

  Hair styled like we mean it.

  The Local has a large projection screen for movie nights just inside the door, which music videos are playing on silent tonight.

  The old wooden bar carved into and stained by decades of well-spent time spans half of the building’s west wall, bathrooms beside it two unisex doors, then a back exit with loads of uneven parking.

  Every table is occupied tonight from the wooden booths to the two, four, six, and eight-tops.

  Out front, the patio is ridiculously crowded, however the conversations are less loud so noise complaints don’t come in. There are houses behind this old haunt.

  We Atlantan’s may be rowdy, but we’re respectful.

  We’re from The South where manners are a must, if your momma and daddy ‘taught you right.’

  Unless you’re drunk.

  Then…well…

  You might get on the wrong side of a fist.

  On the east wall I am crushing this game of darts, and my second bullseye inspires Samantha to throw her toned dancer-arms high in presumed defeat. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

  My ass sways as I stroll to the board, hitting each syllable of, “Ha ha HA!” as I point at my winner, “Look at that!”

  Sammy rolls her eyes, “Why am I so bad tonight?!”

  “You’re buying the next pitcher if ya lose! It’s between you or Zoe.” I whistle and stroll back, “Whoever shall it be?”

  We realize our cousin isn’t with us, and discover her being chatted up by a hipster guy with a medium-length, black beard and dirty-looking flannel shirt half-tucked into torn jeans. Cute boots though.

  My sister’s amused gaze locks onto mine and holds. We raise our right hands, fingers counting down until our thumbs complete five.

  Zoe starts, blinks down, reaches into her back pocket, and pulls out her phone, screen lit up, and mutters, “Oh, excuse me,” texting with speedy precision.

  Side-by-side Samantha and I stand, trying not to laugh.

  Hipster-iffic is wholly unaware of us. His useless hopes are set on Zoe being single and that not being some huge boyfriend texting and occupying her night.

  She doesn’t have one.

  But…

  It’s close.

  Equally forbidding.

  Maybe even moreso.

  On the other end of that text is a Cocker and he’s either a cop or a firefighter, because the stock broker is too busy with Madison and Lucky to keep pulling this shit.

  Slender brown eyebrows tangle up as Zoe sighs, saying over the music, “I’m sorry, just a second. It’s my brother, Nate.”

  Under the same cloak of Classic Rock, I whisper, “Poor Zo. With their radar, she’s gonna be fifty before she gets laid.”

  Samantha says, at normal volume, “They’re worse than Max and Caden!”

  We walk over to our beer pitcher on a wooden ledge carved with initials of lovers and narcissists, pouring the tiniest bit that’s left of our brew into mugs that lost their frost an hour ago.

  I frown, “Runnin’ empty,” admiring its amber stream no matter how meager the flow. “I’m a li’l tipsy.”

  “Same.”

  “Better finish the game.”

  Sam’s brown eyes flit to the unlucky twosome.

  “Ahem!” I cough, and shout less subtly, “Zo! Yo Zo!” jogging my thumb to the board. “Your turn! It’s down to you and Sam who buys next.” I turn our empty pitcher upside down, making a sad face as stray drops fall from it like tears. “Time’s a-wastin’!”

  Hipster-iffic begins to walk over to us with her, which surprises Floaty-head. She offers her unlucky suitor the sweetest I’m-sorry-but-you-weren’t-invited smile. “My brother’s on his way.”

  “So?”

  “He’s a firefighter.”

  “I like firefighters.”

  “He won’t like you.”

  Coveted beer spits from my mouth, making the table near us flinch and cower.

  Didn’t hit them.

  Weenies.

  Samantha laughs her ass off, albeit from behind her hand.

  Zoe has zero-to-the-zip clue how funny she was.

  Nobody likes to be laughed at, but we weren’t at him. It’s our cousin who surprises us all the time.

  Hipster-iffic sneers, “Fuck you guys then!”

  “Hey!” I shout at his back, “Don’t swear at ladies you flanneled ass-wipe!”

  He flips me off and disappears into a sea of people having a much better time than he is.

  Samantha mutters, “He didn’t have to tell us to fuck off.”

  As Zoe aims her dart, she agrees, “Did his momma not teach him right?”

  “You’re lucky Nate interrupted.”

  I hit Sam’s arm. “What?!”

  “Well, in this case she is!”

  A red-tailed dart flies through the air and hits a poster of the band Phoenix, one we’ve seen play live here in town a million times with our cousin Eric and his wife, Wren.

  Zoe covers her mouth. “Oh no!” Dropping her hands, she looks at us. “I hit Ginny in the forehead! That’s not bad luck is it?”

  “See! I wouldn’t wear my hair straight,” I point to the mass of perfectly symmetrical ringlets flying like a halo around Ginny’s head, “if my hair curled like hers!”

  “You always say that,” Sam smiles.

  “It’s true!”

  “Nice shot, sis!” Nathan squeezes through like he was birthed by the crowd.

  I cross my arms, breasts propped on them. “Nate, what the hell are you doing?!” At his sneakily proud smile I grunt in annoyance, “Zoe, did he warn you he was coming?”

  “I guessed he would after I told him we were at The Local.”

  “Loosen your leash, boy!” I poke his grey Henley shirt with our empty pitcher. “And get us a refill!”

  “The second command I’ll do.”

  “Give the first a shot, too!”

  He smirks, “Nope,” throwing Samantha a wink, “Hey Sammy, good to see you.”

  “You off duty, Nathan?”

  “Just now. Been a long couple of days. Which beer?”

  “Choose your favorite.”

 
Zoe gives him a big hug, “I don’t mind you being here.”

  Squeezing her just as tight, he locks eyes with me over her shoulder, “See?! She doesn’t mind I showed up.”

  As he reenters the birth canal, I shout, “That’s because she doesn’t know what she’s missing!”

  Samantha swats my arm. “Stop.”

  “It’s true!” I walk to grab our darts, yanking them out as I explain. “This is a truism passed down through the ages: Sex is awesome. Okay, I might’ve dumbed it down a bit. But if the word ‘awesome’ wasn’t so overused people might see that it actually does apply to sex.” I reach for the one in Ginny’s head, tug it out, “With the right person,” and spin around, smiling as I add a flirty, “Or…people. Let’s not forget Marion and her two hot lovers!”

  Zoe blinks at me from under long eyelashes. It’s not like she complains about still being a virgin. She’s kinda okay with it.

  It drives me crazy!

  Samantha switches subjects.

  Well…kinda.

  “How’s Brad?”

  I smile, “Good,” swinging my hips to Janis Joplin’s Bobby McGee as I hand her our darts. “I wish he were the type of man who’d come with us to a place like this…but you can’t have everything.” Mouthing lyrics I only half-know, I check my phone for a text and see one from him:

  Hey sexy girl. I’m thinking about you tonight.

  Sweet tingles of happiness.

  He’s thinking about me.

  Nothing better than that!

  I text Brad back:

  You earned a huge smile just now. We’re having fun. I’ll call you later, k?

  Tucking my phone into my back-pocket, Sam and I look at Zoe as she searches for her brother. “Every time I see him I’m glad he’s okay.”

  We cock our heads, say in unison, “What?!”

  Zoe faces us to confess, “Ever since Nate decided to be a firemen, I’ve been scared.”

  My voice is gentle, “Really, Zo?” because we’ve got three brothers, too. Samantha and I love them madly despite their refusal to mind their own business.

  If anything happened to them…

  Can’t even think about it!

  God, when Cadan went to Chicago it tore me up so bad I couldn’t even face it. I ditched the family dinner as soon as it was over, feelings too intense for me.

  I keep that shit in check.

  Sammy touches our cousin’s arm. “I didn’t know you were scared of Nate being out there.”

  “Well, remember Nicholas was in that house-fire and when he ran back in to save Lucky, his hair was singed! That’s how close the flames were! Nate does that for a living!”

  Okay, We Are The Champions by Queen is a really weird soundtrack for this moment, and I shake my head to forget I’m hearing it, focus on her instead. “Yeah, but Nathan is trained. He’s a hero.”

  Zoe frowns, gaze cast down, “Yeah.”

  “And Nicholas was a scammy player out to wet his knob.”

  Their heads snap to me, and they both start laughing. “Lexi! “Lex!”

  “What?” I grin, holding up my palms in an offering of, “It got way too fucking serious in here. We’re out for some fun, right?! Getting drunk! Saturday night! The stuff dreams are made of! And if we’re gonna be party crashed, at least it’s by a hero, right? I mean, am I right?” I drop my hands, adding, “Not bad!”

  Zoe’s smile gets punctuated by a single, grateful nod that says the subject is over and she’s ready for fun.

  Samantha, grinning, sifts through our darts by color, “You’re green…” almost ready to hand over mine.

  “I’m going to kick your asses again!” I stand on my tiptoes to search the bar. “Where is Nathan with our pitcher? Has he found some girl to pick up on? Oh there he…is.” My eyes widen at the sight of Brad, and narrow at the blonde he’s talking with. He leans in, whispers in her ear, and my skin goes cold as he lingers.

  Samantha asks, “What is it, Lexi?” and rises on her toes, much better than I can. “Oh my God!”

  “What?” asks Zoe, “What?!” She looks over.

  I’m already passing her and pushing through the crowd. “Excuse me.” My throat is on fire. “Excuse me!”

  Nathan and I lock eyes as he picks up the pitcher, ready to return. Instantly, by the look in my eyes, he knows I’m out for blood and, since he has no clue why, searches for my probable target.

  He’ll never guess Brad.

  My lover is handsome, but he’s also a bit of a geek in a too-intelligent-for-his-own-good sort of way.

  Also my ex-professor, he’s much older than my brothers would approve of. That’s why he’s always been a fucking secret. Pun perfect.

  My cousin Nathan is younger than both me and Zoe and will therefore see Brad as ancient.

  This is the very first time anyone other than Zoe and Sam have seen Brad.

  If I weren’t so furious I’d care.

  But I don’t.

  “Who the hell is this?!” I snap, before he even knows I’m here.

  Brad locks eyes with me, his in shock. He jumps off the barstool. “Lexi!”

  “Who is this?” I look at her and she’s scared. “Who are you?”

  Samantha says, “Uh, Lex?”

  “What?” I look to where Sammy’s finger is pointing at a yellow hair tie.

  Zoe gasps, “Oh no!”

  Nathan asks, “What’s going on? Who is this guy, Lexi? He bothering you?”

  Three months of kisses.

  Three months of lies.

  I’m thinking about you tonight.

  I croak, throat closing in on me, “This is Brad.”

  “The Brad that Caden and Max are always angry about?”

  “Yes! And that’s not me he’s with!”

  Nathan growls, “Say no more,” handing the pitcher to his sister. He chambers his punch and BAM, knocks Brad backward, teetering.

  Firefighter training has him ripped, and that punch landed!

  Brad sways, so I push him just a wee bit.

  And…

  He’s down.

  The girl had no clue I existed.

  I can tell.

  She’s sheepish, even mortified, “I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s not your fault.” My chest is ablaze as I turn to look at Brad one final fucking time. “It’s mine! You were thinking about me, huh? Every time with her were you thinking about me? Were you adding our sexcapades together in a flow chart, cackling to yourself, you mathematical prick!”

  He’s on the ground, too smart to get up.

  Four Cockers are standing over him.

  Best to stay down.

  Zoe hands me the pitcher. “Here Lexi.”

  I lock eyes with her, and turn to smile, “I told you their beer was worth the drive!” as I pour its entire icy contents onto Brad’s crotch.

  Passing the pitcher to his new date I tilt my head, “Could you please put that on the bar for me?” and lock eyes with the hot guy on her other side who’s been watching the drama play out. “Have plans tonight?”

  He frowns, “Nope.”

  “You do now.” I grab his arm and he jumps off the barstool.

  Nathan warns, “Lexiiiiiii!” drawing out the last syllable, but surprise freezes him where he stands.

  “I’m not your sister, Nate! If I were you’d have grey hair! Sam, Zoe, I’ll call you!”

  “Bye Lexi!”

  Our hands are tightly clasped as I lead the way out of here. As soon as we’re breathing Brad-free air, I ask my new date, “What’s your name, cutie?” with fire in my eyes. My chest. My skin.

  “Ira.”

  I stop walking. “Really?”

  He smirks, “No,” thick black hair hanging over eyes greener than mine. “My name’s Gage.”

  Chapter Four

  GAGE

  “G age?” she asks, cherry eyebrows hiked.

  We’re still holding hands, now dead stopped out front of the metal waist-level fence that cordons customers away f
rom pedestrians and cars heading for the lopsided back parking lot. “Your name is Gage?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You’re not lying again?”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said Ira. I was kidding. There’s an important difference called a sense of humor.”

  Sharp green eyes peer at me and, after what I saw in there, I’m not surprised she’s suspicious of me…and all my kind.

  But logic wins out — or an inability to give a shit under the circumstances — and Lexi tugs me along some more, turning the building’s corner for the back lot, cherry-red, straight hair softly bouncing on chewable naked shoulders.

  The girl is gorgeous.

  I’ll give her that.

  Anyone can see her looks.

  And be terrified of her fire.

  But I’m attracted to that more.

  Lights her up from the inside.

  Wouldn’t mind seeing if I could surpass this heat.

  Turn it higher.

  I like a smart, strong woman.

  They don’t scare me. They keep me on my toes. Challenge me. Keep me interested. But I’m waiting to see if she’s like Penny.

  My high school sweetheart seemed just that when we were little kids — sweet. And super smart.

  But as her popularity grew over the years she fed off it like a tick, ego growing as she sucked the life out of everyone who loved her. Even me.

  She’d say nice things but I’ve never met a more manipulative person before or since. Underlying everything was the message: Give me more attention or I’ll make you pay! If you loved me you’d…

  If I loved you I’d be stupid.

  And I did love her — my first love, a child’s love and a kid’s belief that Penny was just going through a phase.

  One that lasted five years and is probably still going.

  Sad day when I woke up and found myself swimming in a river called Denial.

  “Where are we going, Lexi?”

  She glances back and up at me, since she’s leading the way something fierce. A flicker of surprise that I know her name since she didn’t return the favor, but her memory clicks in. “Oh! You heard them call me that.”

  “I did.”

  “We’re going to your place.”

  I chuckle, “Oh we are, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Fine by me.”