Lexi Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 25)

by Faleena Hopkins

C herry’s looking at me with those bright green eyes of hers, “Of course I really want to know,” and all I can think is that I don’t want her smile gone.

  It’s been a great night so far. An adventure I hadn’t expected when I’d gotten ready to pick her up. I was showering, shaving, getting dressed with no notion we’d be chowing down in some ancient structure whose echoes even echo.

  I wipe my mouth with a paper napkin, and blink from the food to the virtually empty space, procrastinating.

  Feels too big

  For something so new.

  I grumble, “I’ve never been the type of guy for chit chat anyway,” giving in.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I go deep.”

  A smile flickers at the sexual joke she wants to make. It makes me grin for a second, but we lose the smiles.

  I hold her patient gaze. “We forgot the beers, Cherry.”

  “Oh!” She digs them out of the bag, hands me one bottle to twist open, and takes care of the other for herself. “To going deep.”

  I repeat the toast, “To going deep.”

  The clink pings off walls and returns to us. Staring at each other, we take a drag. She holds her bottle and I set mine on the old metal desk we chose as our table. Licking my lips, I exhale, inhale, and say what I haven’t said aloud to myself or anyone all week. “This is the one year anniversary of my sister’s suicide.”

  Shocked tears jump to Lexi’s green eyes. “Oh my God, Gage, no!”

  “Afraid so,” I rasp, setting the bottle down, glass on metal echoing, too.

  Lexi turns off her speaker, staring at it as tears fall down her cheeks. Wiping them, she explains, “I’m so close to Sammy, just the thought of losing a sister…”

  My ribcage tightens.

  Lungs burning.

  Her emotion pulls mine.

  I don’t want it to.

  Can’t go there.

  It’s too easy to stay.

  Rising slowly, Lexi gazes at me as she walks up and bends to move my legs away from the desk, straddling my lap and embracing me.

  I bury my grief in her neck, breathe in her sweet-smelling hair and kindness.

  “I’m so sorry, Gage.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  She tightens the hug, and I do the same, sitting together like this for who knows how long.

  When we pull back to look at each other, Lexi stays here with me, hands on my triceps, mine on her hips as she asks, “What was her name?”

  I grimace, “Heather,” adding, “I haven’t said her name in months. Makes it fucking real.”

  “I’ve always loved that name,” Lexi offers, voice soft.

  “Mom and Dad wanted a boy and a girl. They had our names picked out before either of us were even a glint. They liked how Heather and Gage sounded together. Two syllables and one. Nice balance.”

  Lexi smiles, “They do have a nice ring.”

  I release her left hip to rub my eye. “Yeah…”

  “Why did she do it? Do you mind my asking? We don’t have to talk about it more if you don’t want. I mean that.”

  Dropping my hand I stare at Lexi’s necklace, a tiny rose-gold outline of a heart. “She struggled with depression. Didn’t believe she was all the things I told her she was. Heather kept comparing herself to other people — even fucking strangers. She couldn’t…couldn’t… I don’t know. I’m not a fucking psychologist.”

  “Strangers?”

  “Social media.”

  Lexi whispers, “Oh.”

  I lift her off of me, “Let’s eat before it gets even colder.”

  “You want to listen to music?”

  I nod, hook my index finger around the top of my beer and take a sip, staring at the desk as Lexi swipes through playlists. “That’s what you meant by a rough week.”

  “You took my mind off it.”

  She winks at me, smile tender, “I’m good for that.”

  I lean back in my chair, metal surface sturdy despite its years. “You sure are.”

  With her head down she whispers, “Sorry I made you talk about it, Gage.”

  “No, all good.”

  She meets my eyes. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I inhale and watch her push the button on her speaker again. “Just don’t wanna wallow in it.”

  “That’s right,” Lexi smiles, green eyes warm. “How about some Bee Gees?”

  “Bee Gees?! No!”

  Chuckling to herself, she turns on the better speaker, taps on her phone, and watches me recognize Led Zeppelin’s Over The Hills and Far Away.

  On a grin I admit, “You got me.”

  She walks over and plants a kiss that grows, coaxed by the opening guitar riff and eventual lyric — Hey lady. You got the love I need. You got more than enough…

  Lexi releases me, backs away, holding my gaze with a look that tells me to keep watching. She begins to dance, making use of the cavernous space in this erotic, sensual way, Zepplin’s classic harmonies guiding every trained movement of her body.

  It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen. She abandons herself, becoming the song like there’s no separation. It’s breathtaking, and I shift in my seat to follow her. When she runs the length of the warehouse, and does near-splits in the air, my own legs flex with tension. But she gracefully lands, spins twice without effort.

  Swaying her torso, eyes closed, she turns, and breaks into this graceful run in the other direction, back from where she just was. My spine straightens to watch her leap into a somersault flip through the air. She lands like a damn superhero, fingertips touching the ground, one knee higher than the other, panting and blinking hard as the song ends.

  Lexi stands up, shakes dust off, rakes back her hair and grins, a rush of adrenaline in her gasped, “Oh my God!”

  Leaning back, I shake my head in awe. “That was amazing.”

  “I didn’t know if I could still do that leap!”

  “The whole thing, Cherry! That whole thing was amazing.”

  Her smile softens, head tilting, cheeks flushed. “I only ever dance alone in my room these days, Gage. And you haven’t been in there, but…” she laughs, “There’s nowhere near this kind of space to really let go like that.”

  “You should’ve been a dancer!”

  “I don’t like being judged for it. I only dance alone like that now, for myself. But…” Lexi pauses, looks at her right foot as she points it like a ballerina and sets it down like a normal girl. “I did it for Heather.” Meeting my eyes, she adds, “And I did for you.”

  Kicking back my chair, quick strides bring me to where she’s waiting. Cherry grabs my zipper. I dig out protection. She pulls her panties down, shoves them into my pants pocket while I drag the condom over my girth, pants dropping over my knees.

  She climbs me.

  I dive into her.

  Our lips lock.

  Moans sync.

  We fuck away our pasts and futures. When the heat becomes powerful, Lexi murmurs against my panting lips, “Cum for me, Gage.”

  And I do.

  But not before thanking her for this night, that dance, and every smile she’s given me that’s removed pain from my mind, by taking her with me all the way to ecstasy and back.

  Man, how these walls echo.

  Chapter Eighteen

  LEXI

  Samantha’s lazily curled up on our sofa watching some movie, a jug of ice cream her companion. “Didn’t expect you back ’til morning!”

  I smile, “Yeah well…” dropping my keys and red handbag while heels get kicked off and abandoned. My bad-ass heels I did a flip in tonight like a damn pro. But I’ll keep that special moment to myself. Sammy has a tendency to push me about giving up dancing. Little mentions about how I should’ve stuck with it. Not in the mood. Ever. “I like to keep you guessing.”

  “And you always do,” she smiles, “Wanna watch a movie with me?”

  “Which one?”

  “Does it matter when I have this?” She tips the j
ug to display creamy caramel, vanilla bean swirl. “And guess what’s even better than this?”

  Convinced nothing is, I demand, “What could possibly be better than that??!”

  “I’ve got an extra spoon right here because I figured Zo’d be home by now. Lucky you.”

  I start running. “Make room under that blanket!”

  She yanks up the faux fur splurge we’ve never regretted investing in, and I jump under it, surprising my sister with a heartfelt hug. “What’s this for?”

  “I just love you.”

  Sammy’s voice softens on a sincere, “I love you, too, Lexi!”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” I pull away, making her laugh.

  We dig into the most scrumptious dessert ever available at a moment’s notice while Sam searches the Internet for our blessed entertainment.

  Up and to my right, Sally Ashes sleeps atop the sofa’s back cushion, grey body stretched in a pose only a cat can comfortably maintain.

  Our other kitty — the cottonball that breathes — is passed out opposite us in a chair we discovered at an estate sale.

  I’m convinced our felines believe that this home belongs to them. We humans exist merely to pay their rent, feed them a growing variety of wet food and kibble, and clear away their poop every damn day. And for this they allow us to pet them.

  I reach over to greet the nearby Sally with a few loving strokes while I call out to his Highness, “Hi Ralphie.”

  One eye opens.

  Momentarily.

  Sal only stretches.

  That’s all I get.

  From both cats.

  Meh.

  I’m fine with it!

  Movie titles, pics and trailers get brutally shredded. “Too serious.” “That looks dumb.” “I’ve seen it a thousand times.” “I don’t like war movies.” “Great cast, though.” “Not in the mood for suspense.” “Great cast, though.” “Too serious.” “Great cast, though.”

  Search abandoned, Sammy asks me, “Was the date bad?”

  “No. Why would you ask that?”

  She looks at me, paused menu lighting our faces. “Because you’re home.”

  “Oh…” Spooning a small bite’s worth, I stare at it. “It was a hard day for him. He just came out to get his mind off of something.” I lock eyes with my sister. “You remember what Mom used to say about personal stuff?”

  “Some things are meant to remain private to those who endure them.”

  It’s one of the many reasons Sammy and I don’t gossip. It’s Gage’s tragedy and if he wants people to know, he’ll tell them. Including my sister. Not that she’d ever tell anyone — but that’s not the point.

  Licking my spoon, I stretch a leg. “I was going to stay at his place but when we were driving over to Virginia Highlands, I uh…” His mother had called, and Gage let it go to voicemail. Only because of me. It didn’t feel right. I was sure they wanted to talk to one another. “I asked if he wanted to be alone.”

  She nods, understanding his answer was yes. “You like him?”

  I shrug, “It’s just a casual thing,” turning back to the screen. “Let’s find a comedy.”

  She’s staring at me, so I side-eyeball her.

  “It’s just casual?”

  I insist, “Yes! Trust me, it is,” and begin searching for films without waiting for her. Under my breath, I finally add, “You know I don’t get serious about guys.”

  “Brad?”

  “Brad?! That was a game! One long stupid game!”

  “The kind where you leapt into his arms and took him back time and again.”

  “Thrill of the chase. Give me that!” I snatch the tub of ice cream, spooning the last of it with an annoyed glance cut her way.

  “I was done,” she lies.

  “You wanted this.”

  “Nope. I was done.”

  “Yeah right.”

  The sound of Zoe’s key unlocking the dead bolt catches our attention.

  She and Ryder Hamilton walk in, laughing about who the fuck knows what.

  Our eyebrows fly, both of us wondering how they ended up together on a date night. I look at Sam and she gives a tiny head shake. No clue.

  He’s been Zoe’s ginormous crush since our cousin Emma married his uncle, Tanner. The marriage brought Ryder and his mom to Atlanta from California, happily installing them as honorary family members. She promptly met someone, but Ryder has remained single.

  During every single infamous Cocker Family BBQ since their move east, Zoe has mooned over Ryder and yet somehow we’re all uncertain of his knowledge of her crush.

  He’s fond of her.

  How could he not be?

  But Sam and I have never seen romance behind his eyes.

  Save for one night.

  It was when Logan visited Atlanta to celebrate Caden’s return, months before the Broadway show left for Germany and took Logan with it. Ryder came back to our place with him for what ended up becoming a very dramatic evening for my poor Samantha.

  And a dreamy one for our Zo.

  Ryder had flirted with her.

  Complimented her.

  Then left.

  She lived off of it.

  For months.

  So what the hell is happening here?!

  She grins, “Hi guys,” jogging her thumb to her handsome, dark-haired crush.

  He tips his chin. “Girls.”

  Sam’s surprise is concealed well. “Hi Ryder!”

  Mine isn’t. “Where the fuck did you find him?! One of your better dreams?”

  Zoe blushes.

  I yelp as Sam pinches my hip under the fuzzy blanket.

  Ryder smiles, “Thanks Lex. I’m not used to you giving compliments.”

  “I give them all the time!”

  He chuckles and casually adds, “I’m gonna help myself to a beer.”

  Zoe points to our kitchen, “Right in there!” and drops her hand. “Oh, you know where it is. I forgot you’ve been here before.”

  He faces her, standing pretty close. “It’s all good. You want one?”

  Sam and I exchange a look because there is definite chemistry. And also, do we have beer?

  “No, thank you, Ryder. But you can bring me back a spoon for that ice cream.”

  I turn it over, “Oops! All gone,” and dip my head to lick a creamy droplet before it falls.

  “Is there any more?”

  Samantha apologizes, “We need to go shopping again.”

  She shrugs, “I’ve got chocolate in my room,” and tells Ryder, “I’ll meet you back here.”

  As soon as we’re alone I whisper to Sam, “Do we have beer?”

  She whispers back, glancing behind her to make sure they’re gone. “There was some in the fridge when I got home.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought you bought it.”

  “I only drink beer when we’re out.”

  “I know! But I thought…”

  My head swings back. “You thought I was drinking to get over Brad.”

  “It was a possibility.”

  “No it fucking wasn’t.”

  She cracks up, and I smack her knee, irritated.

  Ryder walks around the wall that divides this room from our kitchen, an icy six pack of Sweetwater Ale gripped in one hand. “You know what Atlanta has that California doesn’t? This!” Setting it on our unusually clutter-free coffee table, he calls out, “Hey Zo! You sure you don’t want a beer?”

  She strolls in with a box of opened chocolates. “No, thank you. I have these.”

  Sammy says, “I’ll take one.”

  I cut a glance to her. “Oh, are you getting over someone?”

  “Stop it,” she smirks.

  “You are, though.”

  Pointing at me, Sam’s voice turns to a warning, “Stop!”

  Zoe sits on the last empty chair, and holds up her chocolate in a toast. “To us all being together!”

  The cuteness of her doing that melts the tension between Sam
and I, and it makes me stop teasing her about Logan.

  Ryder hands me a beer for our three bottles and a chocolate toast-time.

  “To us all being together!” we say in unison.

  And when Ryder leaves almost two hours and a game of cards later, Zoe walks him to the door, locks it, and leans against its sturdy wood to smile dreamily at us. “I think I’m ready to have sex.”

  Our jaws hit the blanket.

  Chapter Nineteen

  GAGE

  I n Sandy Springs, Georgia, Mom runs into my arms wearing the purple robe Dad bought her several Christmases ago over a nightgown in a lighter shade, brown slippers quieting her sprint. “Oh Gage! I thought I heard your truck pulling into the driveway! You came! I’m so glad you came!”

  With a comforting hug I tell her, “I heard your message, Ma. Thought a visit in person was better than a phone call.”

  She pulls away to see my face like she needs proof I’m standing right in front of her, eyes red from crying. “I’ve been keeping myself busy all day, but I just couldn’t take it anymore! Come in! Come in!” She ushers me into the house I was raised in, charming farmhouse decor all her doing.

  Dad had no sense of style. He was a mechanic, like me. I inherited a bit of her discernment, only in my house it translated to dark tiles, woods and deep colors throughout, rather than her pastels that surround me now.

  Heather was like Ma.

  She did crafts, painted wood.

  Ah, Heather…

  Why’d you have to leave us like that?

  Dad’s was an accident.

  But you.

  You left us here on purpose.

  As I lock the front door, Mom fiddles with her short hair. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Have a beer?”

  She apologetically shakes her head, “No, I don’t,” before offering a hopeful, “I have wine?”

  “Nah, thanks though.” My gaze slices our past framed and hung on painted walls. Too many ghosts smiling back from them. Everything has history here, and on a day like today it sucks.

  Dad’s old recliner is worn from his love of it. The plants in the bay window are ten times the size of when she bought them.

  That fireplace is my favorite part of this living room. I couldn’t wait to learn how to work it when I was too young for the responsibility.