First to Fight Box Set: Books 1-5

by Nicole Blanchard

  Of course, I didn’t tell him that at the time, so I just shrugged and brushed it off.

  “We’d better get back,” I grunt. “Maybe we can make plans sometime this week?”

  “Sounds good, man.”

  I turn and bump into Sofie, the change in momentum causes her purse to fall off her shoulder and spill out of her grasping hands to the ground. Papers, pens, and a lone Chapstick scatter over the floor.

  I kneel down to help her gather up her things when my eye catches on a familiar logo, one I’d been dreading.

  Damian fades to the back of my mind once I catch a glimpse of Sofie’s face.

  Present

  Sofie

  Another summer storm beats at my windshield, but this time, I don’t begrudge the rain. It keeps me camouflaged as I watch the funeral proceedings from a distance. After getting caught by Jack, the last thing I want to do is run into him again.

  Even though I can’t hear the reverend’s speeches or the consoling words from friends and family, I can feel them. Pressure builds in my chest until it feels like I’m being pressed into my car seat by a huge boulder. Tears burn my eyes and blur my vision, turning the world around me into one giant teardrop.

  Shame makes my ears and throat grow hot. Shame for waiting all this time. For not explaining to her the reasons why I had to leave and why I couldn’t face coming back. For not being a better daughter. She deserved so much better than what she got. At least my younger brothers were good kids. Rebellious, like most Varano’s, but good, for the most part. I’m happy she had that while she could, and that they had her.

  Twin drops crest over my cheeks and drop onto the simple black jersey dress. I wipe the wetness away with a hasty finger and inhale deeply to soothe the tingle that signals more are to come.

  My phone vibrates next to me and I smile when I see Livvie’s name. I let it go to voicemail, though, because I know she’s only going to try and convince me to come out, but I can’t. Wouldn’t dare risk it.

  The ceremony over, guests begin to depart, but I can’t quite make myself leave just yet. It’s been a long time since I’ve caught a glimpse of my brothers and I can’t leave until I’ve seen them at least once. Like a total fucking stalker.

  Once the crowd disperses, I spot Jack’s tall, powerful body immediately and God, does he look good in a suit. But even more appealing than that is the protective way he slings an arm around each of my brother’s shoulders. My fingers tighten on the material of the seat in a white-knuckled grip.

  Rafe is so tall now. He nearly reaches Jack’s chest, and Donnie is in the awkward teenage stage where everything seems a little too long. The last time I really spent any time with them Rafe was three and Donnie was one. Even when I did come to town, and those times were few and far between, I kept our visits short and sweet. I’d essentially lost out on their whole lives.

  Last year when Jack’s sister Olivia—my best friend—called me in the middle of the night to tell me her son had been kidnapped was the last time I’d been to Nassau. I checked in on my brothers and Mom and left soon after Livvie and her son Cole settled with her now-husband and Jack’s best friend, Ben.

  In front of me, Jack ruffles Donnie’s hair and Donnie looks up at him with such blinding admiration that I reach for the passenger’s seat and snag a wrinkled tissue to dab at my running nose. It would be so much easier to stay away if Jack weren’t such a good guy. He really is, down to his core. He can snarl at me as much as he wants, but he only does that because he cares so much. Only a man with a heart of gold would step up to play role model to his ex-girlfriend’s younger brothers. Especially if that ex-girlfriend is me.

  I wipe my eyes and manage to pull my gaze from the trio and sit up in alarm when I realize they’re the last ones in the cemetery. The tissue goes flying somewhere in the backseat and I hastily belt myself in, cranking the engine and peeling out of my hiding spot behind a grove of cypress trees.

  The line of cars snakes over a quarter mile and I thump my hands against the steering wheel in frustration. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. I glance in the rearview and even across the distance I can feel Jack’s eyes on mine. A shiver courses through me and I fidget in my seat whispering, c’mon, c’mon, at the cars creeping along in front of me.

  A shadow that has nothing to do with the rumbling storm clouds darkens my window, and I have to take a few deep, unsteady breaths before I look up. Jack’s face fills my line of sight, one arm braced above the car door, the other already reaching for the door handle.

  “I thought you weren’t coming,” he says.

  I look away, my hands still gripping the steering wheel, even though the precession of cars has come to a complete halt. The words I want to say bubble up and lodge in my throat. I never should have come back.

  He sighs. “Fine. We can play it your way.” I see him straighten out of the corner of my eye. “Whatever you were looking for the other day? You didn’t get all of it.” He doesn’t even have the decency to gloat when I jerk back toward him. “I’m not going to get into your business, but if it’s important enough that you’ll break into your mom’s house to get it, I figure you must need it pretty bad.”

  My voice is thick with emotion and unshed tears. “Can I come get them now? Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Yes,” he says, “with one condition.”

  “What?” Apprehension knots my stomach.

  “Come by the house in about an hour. See your brothers. Talk to them. Then, if you still want to leave, I’ll give you the papers and you can go.”

  Even the thought of him touching them causes bile to rise to my throat. I choke it back down. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  He studies me for a moment, his face unreadable, then he raps the top of my car with his knuckles. “If I’d known it was this easy to bribe you I would have tried it a long time ago.”

  “Are you done?” I bite out.

  “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I’m done. I’ll see you in an hour. Don’t be late.”

  An hour later, I return to my mother’s house and it looks completely different in the daylight. Under the cover of night, I couldn’t see the warping front steps or the peeling paint. As I unfold from the coupe and reluctantly walk to the front door, my eyes catch on a gaping hole on the far side of the porch. My chest tightens and my eyes burn. Pull it together, Varano.

  Around me people buzz with conversation and I can feel their eyes on me. Whispers follow me through the front door and into the living room. It’s been cleaned since I was here last and I wonder briefly who did it. I can’t image a big, bad former Marine like Jack wielding a mop and duster. Then again, I couldn’t have pictured him as a business owner either.

  I guess a lot of things have changed.

  A lady I don’t recognize clears her throat behind me, and I move out of her way, like a stranger in the place I used to call home. Familiar faces mill about the living areas, bringing trays of food to the kitchen counter. More dishes cover the dining room table. Someone had the forethought to bring dozens of plastic lawn chairs and most people sit outside balancing paper plates of baked chicken and a variety of casseroles.

  Hovering in the office doorway, I clutch my purse in front of me like a shield to hide my shaking knees. Coming here at night was different. The shadows hid memories I’d much rather forget. Being here in the daylight only draws my mother’s absence to the forefront.

  She would have loved having all these people over. She adored house parties and entertaining. Holidays were a big deal in our house. Any excuse to break out her wedding china and make an elaborate meal, really. Food was the way she expressed her love. And my mom had a lot of love to give.

  Fingers brush against my arm and I look down to find a masculine hand cupping my elbow. I follow the arm to a bare throat, where a dress shirt has been unbuttoned, a tie hanging limply on either side of the lapel. Without my heels, he’d dwarf me, and even though I’m wearing my tallest ones, my eyes are only level with his bare throat. />
  Jack tugs at my elbow and I go without complaint, feeling pleasantly numb. He leads me past the throngs of mourners and up the stairs to one of the spare rooms we used for relatives when they stayed over for the holidays. I follow him inside and he closes the door behind us.

  The sheets and comforter on the bed are mussed and there’s an open suitcase with men’s clothes in it. “You’re staying here?” I ask dumbly.

  He tugs his suit jacket all the way off and tosses it on the foot of the bed. His tie follows soon after. “Yeah. What did you think I was doing the other day?”

  “Anything to piss me off,” I say, but it lacks heat. My libido is too distracted by him undressing in front of me.

  He ignores that and says, “I promised your mother I’d look after the boys and get this place cleaned up to sell.”

  And of course, I just happened to break in one of the nights he was staying here. “She always liked you,” I say softly.

  He leans against the dresser and crosses his feet at the ankles and his arms over his chest. “I’m glad you came today.”

  I turn away, walking to the window to look down at the people milling about in the yard. “Can we not do this?”

  He sighs. “Right. The boys are in Rafe’s room. They weren’t up to seeing all the people and I figured you guys would probably like the privacy.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to do here.” I want to give in to the need to curl up to his heat, his comfort, but I hug my arms around my waist instead.

  “You don’t have to do anything, just talk to them. It really is the least you can do.”

  “They’re not going to want to talk to me,” I hedge.

  His sigh wreaking of disappointment fills the room. “Stop stalling.”

  Might as well get it over with, then, because Jack’s implacable responses are no help whatsoever. The short walk down the hall feels like it takes an eternity. I reach Rafe’s door and knock. “Come in,” one of them shouts from the other side.

  Not wanting to betray my reluctance, I boldly step through. Two identical looking boys swivel their necks in our direction and I freeze in their familiar gaze.

  Both of their faces look like little miniatures of our father. Even more so now that they’ve grown and matured. My heart beats double time in my chest.

  I swallow my fear and worry back and offer Rafe and Donnie a small smile. “Hey, guys,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “Long time no see.”

  Rafe sneers and continues playing his handheld video game, but Donnie returns the smile with one of his own, though he looks back and forth between me and Rafe.

  “You guys chat for a bit,” Jack says. “I’m gonna go check on the food. Behave.” He directs a hard look at the boys before slipping out the door and leaving me alone with them.

  The moment he leaves Rafe turns to his brother. “You dipshit, that’s my 3DS.” Rafe stalks across the room and snatches the handheld from Donnie’s stunned hands.

  “Dude, that’s mine!” Donnie sputters.

  Rafe ignores Donnie’s protests and stuffs the 3DS in his backpack, then turns back defiantly.

  Donnie’s mouth opens and closes and his cheeks turn red. When his eyes gloss over with tears, I look away, feeling a shame burn on my own face. Like a peeping tom who has no business interfering. My eyes fall to the floor and I spot another 3DS tucked halfway under an unmade bed. My eyes shift to the two boys having a stare-down and then back at the 3DS.

  I get to my knees and fish it out from under the bed and wave it around. “Is this one of yours?” I ask them. Petulant faces turn to me, both affecting a look of shock at my presence, as if they’d already forgotten I was there. I smother the responding hurt underneath a shaky smile.

  Donnie wipes his nose and glances away, but Rafe snatches the 3DS from my hands and gives it to Donnie, both having suddenly forgotten their tiff to focus their irritation on me. Great.

  “Who asked you?” Rafe says, then brushes by me. If he had shoulder checked me I wouldn’t be surprised, but he doesn’t, he just strolls down the hallway and out of sight.

  I curse my mother, Jack, and every other trick of fate that landed me back in this godforsaken town. When I turn back to Donnie, he flicks his eyes up at me and then follows his brother without a word.

  Some family reunion.

  Jack

  She lasts longer than I expected she would. The boys rush by the kitchen door and out the back, their shouts loud and angry. Sofie follows close behind, her face a crumbling mask that does little to hide her volatile emotions.

  “What was the point of putting us through that?” she whispers vehemently, her brown eyes flashing. “They barely even know me and what little they do know, they can’t stand.”

  “They’re teenagers. They can’t stand much of anything.”

  Sofie lifts her hair off of her shoulders and shakes it out. “Now that we’ve concluded this entirely pointless excursion, will you please let me have my stuff so I can get out of here?”

  “I have some things to say first and then I will.” I hold up a hand to stave off her tirade. “Just shut up and listen.” Her eyes widen and I continue, “Those boys may not be able to stand you, but what you seem to forget is you’re the only family they have. What do you think is going to happen to them when you leave here, huh?”

  She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off with a hard look. “Hate me, hate this place, your life, I don’t give a fuck, but they should not pay for your bullheadedness.”

  “May I talk now?” she cuts in.

  I gesture with a hand.

  “They will be fine,” she says. “They can go live with Aunt Marci. Mom always said if anything ever happened to us, Marci would take care of us.”

  “Baby, your Aunt Marci has advancing Alzheimer’s. She can’t even take care of herself right now.”

  Sofie stumbles backward, catches herself with a hand on the edge of the breakfast table. “So what…what are you saying here exactly?”

  I let her work through to the obvious answer. She starts shaking her head. “You can’t mean that I’m supposed to take care of them.” A hollow laugh explodes from her chest. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Look, Sof, the truth is, there is no one else. They’re not going to give two kids to someone who isn’t family. I’m a single guy who lives above a gym. I do okay, but no court will give me custody. Your parents don’t have any other able-bodied, living relatives. If you don’t take them, they’ll go into foster care.” I let that sink in for a second. “Do I need to have Livvie explain to you why that’s not a good idea?”

  “Jack, I don’t know a single thing about taking care of teenagers. I live in a loft in the city. I don’t keep regular hours. I’m a hacker, I never go out. I have my laundry done for me. You remember how bad my cooking was! If they give those boys to me, they’d have food poisoning within a week!”

  “It’s not about you. It’s not about me,” I say gently, recognizing the panic in her eyes. Even though I curse myself for it, I cross the kitchen and do something I haven’t done in a long time. I pull her into my arms and rest my chin on her head. “Think about it, okay?”

  “They’d probably be better off with a nice foster family,” she mutters into my shirt.

  “You and I both know that’s not true.”

  “You might.”

  With effort, I step back and put a good three feet of space in between us. “Whatever made you leave Nassau before doesn’t matter. There are two kids who have no place to go. If you decide not to take them, then you’re going to be the one who tells them, because I’m sure as hell not going to be associated with such a shitty memory.”

  Her shoulders slump and she glances out the kitchen window where the boys are chasing each other. “When do I have to decide?” she asks.

  “Their social worker is coming to finalize everything next week, so you have this weekend to make up your mind before they place them in foster care.”

 
“How do you know all of this?”

  “Your mother placed me as executor of her estate.”

  “Jesus.” Sofie peers around the room. “What about the house? What’s going to happen to it?”

  I wait until she turns back to face me. God, she looks just like she did when we were younger. Her game face is gone and even though she’s costumed up in a dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, I can see her vulnerability shining through the façade. “She left the house to you,” I say.

  Her hands ball up and press to her stomach and she doubles over like she’s in pain. I take a few tentative steps in her direction, but she holds up a hand, sniffling. “I’m all right,” she says, but her voice is shaky at best.

  I go to the fridge and get a jug of tea someone made up and left. I can’t find any cups so I grab a mason jar from the dish drainer and fill it to the brim with ice and tea, then hand it to her. She accepts the cup with two hands and brings it to her lips for a long gulp.

  “She told me to tell you that if you wanted to sell it, that she wouldn’t mind.” Sofie takes that like a blow, staggering back against the kitchen table. “But she said if you wanted to keep it for you and your brothers, there will be enough money from her life insurance to fix it up again.”

  Sofie holds up a hand. “Stop.” Her voice is faint and it cracks midway through the word.

  She staggers out of the kitchen and down the back hall to the back door. I follow silently behind as she throws open the door and damn near falls out of the house onto the porch. She manages to make it to the steps where she buckles on the top step and leans against the railing.

  Not wanting to push her, knowing the pressure will only make her draw away even more, I keep silent. We sit there for a while in a companionable silence, the sounds of the people in the front yard filtering back on the warm afternoon air. The rain stopped as soon as the funeral ended, which I thought fitting. Sofie’s mom was all about the sunshine and I know she would have wanted it to shine here for her kids and loved ones.