by Lucy Lennox
I nodded and turned away as if to ready my supplies, but really I needed a chance to catch my breath. Their raw intimacy cut through me, exposing parts of myself I never cared to examine very closely. I’d never been one to get close to others. In fact, my friendship with Griff was really the sum total of the close relationships I’d had in the past fifteen years with the exception of one selfish prick I’d been stupid enough to fall for when I was a teenager.
It felt nice to be appreciated for something I was good at. And it was especially good to hear the compliment from my best friend’s mouth. It had been a while since we’d had a moment like that. It wasn’t that I begrudged my best friend his happiness with the man he loved, it was just that when Griff found Sam, he no longer needed me the same way as before.
I’d spent many years thinking Griff was the man for me. We’d lived together on the streets as teenagers and been tight as teeth ever since. But when Sam came along, things changed. Griff was no longer mine, and the loss of that imagined future together had left me feeling particularly lonely and set adrift.
I quickly shook off the feeling of self-pity and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I didn’t need what they had. I’d been more than fine for years doing my thing—embracing independence and letting random hookups meet my needs. No one was worth keeping around for longer than a good lay. I’d learned that the hard way years ago. Physical satisfaction from one-nighters, emotional satisfaction from friends and clients. It had worked for me for years. I didn’t want the ridiculous, sugar-sweet nonsense with another person, so there was no need to be affected by this.
And screw melancholy in general. No one wanted to spend time with the mopey downer in the group.
“Who’s first?” I asked as cheerfully as I could. Griff tilted his head and cocked a brow at me. I gave him a smile of reassurance and gestured for them to follow me back to a private room, leaving my cell phone under the front counter to avoid any interruptions.
By the time the tattoos were done, I felt a strange combination of tired and antsy. The guys asked me to join them for a drink afterward, and we headed to one of our favorite clubs.
“I didn’t think you old men would have the energy for dancing anymore,” I teased once we found a table with our drinks in hand.
“We don’t. We’re just trying to pretend so you don’t think we’re losers,” Sam said honestly. Griff barked out a laugh.
“He’s right. We only wish we were still cool club types,” he agreed. “But now that we’re here, I’m definitely going to get Sam’s sweet ass out on the dance floor. C’mon. You too, Nico.”
Griff took a long pull of his beer while I threw back the two shots I’d gotten. I knew by the itchiness I’d felt earlier at the shop that I needed to find someone to blow a little steam off with once Griff and Sam were gone.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I said, standing up and turning back to hold my hand out to Sam. “Dance with me. It’ll make Griff jealous,” I said with a grin.
Sam’s face morphed into a mischievous smirk as he took my hand. “Sounds good.”
Without looking up from his beer, Griff spoke loudly enough for us both to hear. “You think it’ll make me jealous, but all it will make me is horny as hell.”
Me too, I thought.
When we found a spot on the crowded dance floor, Sam pressed up against my back and put his arms around my waist and his chin on my shoulder. His deep voice slid into my ears, making me shiver. “As if he’s not horny all the time as it is.”
I turned slightly so he could hear my response. “Oh please, you guys have been together long enough. Surely things are getting old and boring by now.”
He chuckled. “Hardly. What about you? Any prospects? Are we looking to get you laid tonight?”
“Yes please,” I said quickly.
“A cute twink, right? Twinkier than you anyway?” Sam teased in my ear as Griff joined us.
I rolled my eyes. Griff and Sam had only ever seen me with little guys, but that night I was in the mood for something different. Something I rarely let myself have.
“No. I’m thinking tonight I wanna be manhandled. Couple of bears oughta do it.”
Griff danced in front of me with his hands on my hips, making a Nico sandwich with his husband. At my words, his eyebrows rose up high enough to disappear beneath his curly mop of hair.
“The hell?” he asked.
I shrugged, taking the opportunity to preen back against Sam like I was marking him with my scent or something. Griff growled and pulled me closer to him and away from Sam. I heard Sam chuckle and saw his hand come up in front of me to cup Griff’s cheek.
“Simmer down, Foxy,” he warned. “You know Nico’s not my type.”
Regardless, Sam moved around to dance against Griff’s back, shooting me an apologetic smile. I winked at him to let him know there were no hard feelings. They both knew I respected the hell out of their marriage and would never do anything to get between them. We’d gone out dancing a million times before, and the two of them learned that they loved using me as their plaything on the dance floor, not only to turn each other on but to convince other men to pay attention to me. It was a game the three of us had gotten used to playing, and we’d discovered it benefited all three of us equally.
Griff’s hands came up my chest until they rested on either side of my neck. “Bears? As in multiple big guys?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I like to mix it up sometimes.”
“You know you’d have to bottom, right?” Griff asked with narrowed eyes. “You don’t bottom. Ever.”
Sam grumbled something about not wanting to know how Griff knew what I did and didn’t do in bed.
“Not true,” I corrected. “And stop asking questions. Just find me two big guys. I don’t care if they’re bears or not. I want muscles.”
“What’s going on with you, Nico?” Griff asked. “You have a death wish? Why won’t you let us fix you up on an actual date? You know, like with someone you can actually forge a relationship with rather than a one-and-done?”
“Never mind. Jesus, forget about it, find me a little guy.”
Sam brought a hand up to cover Griff’s mouth. “Don’t listen to him, Nico,” Sam said. “If you’re in the mood for a bear tonight, we’ll make it happen. What about that one over there?” He nodded in the direction of a rough-looking man who looked to be about ten years older and fifty pounds heavier—all of it muscles.
“Yes please,” I said, trying not to whimper.
“What the hell?” Griff mumbled. “That guy will chew you up and spit you out.”
One can hope, I thought.
Sam maneuvered us over to where the man was dancing by himself. I turned my back to Griff, allowing him to dance against my ass as I crooked my finger at the older guy. He joined the three of us, dancing face-to-face with me long enough to encourage Griff and Sam to break away and dance on their own.
“Well aren’t you adorable? Love the ink,” the man grumbled in my ear. Normally, being treated like a twink drove me up the damned wall. I tried hard to be the dominant one in all my hookups because I never wanted people to think I was small or weak. I’d had enough of being treated as small and weak to last a lifetime. But when it came right down to it, in the dark of night and only to myself, I had to admit that I really did want to be manhandled by someone bigger than me sometimes. I also wanted to be taken care of and have someone to treat me like a spoiled princess, but that was a secret I barely admitted to myself, much less anyone else.
“Thank you,” I said to the man, leaning into his chest farther and wrapping my arms around his waist. “What’re you looking for tonight?”
“Whatever it is, you’re it.”
“You have any friends?” I asked, hoping like hell the answer was yes. I couldn’t do one-on-one. It was too much, too intense. I didn’t want to be anyone’s sole focus this evening.
“Sure do. See that guy at the bar with the leather vest?”
I looked over and saw the man he gestured to. A smile appeared on my face like the Cheshire cat. The man looked like he could pound the hell out of my ass and shove my face in the mattress while doing it. The perfect combo for my current mood. “He with you?” I asked.
“My husband,” he said proudly.
“No kidding? You think he’d be okay with a third tonight?”
“I know he would, sweetheart. Come with me.”
Several hours later when I found my way home significantly more relaxed and retrieved my forgotten cell phone from behind the reception counter of the shop, I noticed a missed call and voice mail. It was an attorney from a long-forgotten lake town in Texas named Hobie, calling with a message that Adriana Salerno had died, leaving me sole custody of her baby daughter.
My stomach turned over violently, almost causing me to vomit all over the newly swept floor of the tattoo parlor. I hadn’t seen Adriana in what seemed like a million years but was really just fifteen. Since I’d left Hobie for good and sworn I’d never look back.
Oh god.
I replayed the message to see if I’d heard the name correctly. Sure enough, the message said Adriana Salerno.
My sister.
Chapter 2
West
If there was one thing I wasn’t expecting to see in the small Catholic church in my quaint little hometown, it was some crazy-ass, purple-and-blue-haired dude covered in tattoos and piercings. I wondered how the hell he’d transported from the London punk era to modern-day, small-town Texas. Adriana Salerno, for whom we’d all gathered, hadn’t ever left the Lone Star state. At least that’s what she’d told me during one of those long hours she’d been in labor with Pippa. So how the hell would she have ever met a strange character like that?
Maybe he was in the wrong place. Perhaps he was just passing through town on his way to an emo seminar and decided to stop in and light a candle for the loss of his ability to blend in.
I forced myself to look away. He was too far toward the back of the church for me to pick out any details besides the ink and hair color, so I tried to focus back on the casket at the front.
Adriana.
Hands down the closest friend I’d had in years besides my siblings. I still couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around her sudden death.
I looked across the group of townspeople gathered in the church and thought about how many of us had loved her. From her regulars at the bakery to the ladies at my practice who looked forward to her visits and the kids who took her volunteer art classes at the community center. Everyone recognized what a warmhearted young woman she’d become—how cheerful she was and the fact that she’d give you the shirt off her back if you needed it.
And now she was in that fucking box.
She hadn’t always been that kind soul. Years before, she’d gone through some bad shit and chosen a rough road. But as soon as she’d gotten out of high school and had to rely on herself, things had started to change. This final year, the one in which she’d gotten pregnant, had solidified the changes in her for the whole town to see. She’d done it for Pippa.
The tiny bundle in my arms squirmed and squeaked. I looked down at the perfect little face beginning to come out of the comfort of slumber, and I quickly reached into the backpack at my feet to find the bottle I’d prepared before heading to the service. I tried desperately to get the formula into the baby’s mouth in time, but I wasn’t quick enough.
A lusty wail flooded the tiny church building like the very personification of my own heartbreak. Frantic, hungry cries bounced off the walls and shocked the congregation into silence. My hands shook as I tried my hardest to shove the bottle into her little mouth before I dared lose my control and join her in her sobs. A crashing sound came from somewhere in the back of the church, but I could only focus on what was in front of me in order to keep from losing my shit.
Even though I was a family physician who’d worked miracles in the past, I wasn’t able to fix this child. To make it better for her. To take her pain away. To go back in time and save her mother. All I could do was feed her and hold her close.
I couldn’t tell the little bundle in my arms that her mama was coming back for her, because her mama was gone. Adriana, my strong, beautiful friend, had left forever.
And Pippa was all alone.
Once she had grabbed a few strong pulls from the nipple, she settled into a softer rhythm of suckling interspersed with little breathing sounds. When the short service was over, I passed the baby over to the woman next to me. Goldie was one of the senior nurses at my practice and had been able to get temporary custody of Pippa through her work as a foster parent. I’d given her paid leave as long as she needed it to take care of the four-month-old.
Goldie had spent the entire service bawling her eyes out and moaning Pippa’s name under her breath every few minutes. If I hadn’t already been dealing with a broken heart, the sounds of her grief would have broken my heart clear in half. I knew that during whatever moments of clarity Goldie’d had during the service, she’d most likely prayed to the Virgin Mary to deliver Pippa into the loving arms of the couple who was so desperate to adopt her.
Jennifer and Daniel Warner were sitting across the aisle from us in the opposite pew. I’d noticed Jenn glance over at the baby every few minutes during the service. She kept her hands either clutched together in her lap or folded inside Daniel’s larger ones between them. I had very mixed feelings about the Warners adopting Pippa. On the one hand, I knew they’d been trying for a long time to have a second child, and they were already wonderful parents to their six-year-old son Nathan. On the other hand, I felt a proprietary ownership of Pippa. I’d been there for Adriana’s pregnancy, Pippa’s delivery, and the first four months of her life.
I’d envisioned helping Adriana raise her—not as a parent, obviously, but a good friend. Adriana had been alone and had never revealed who the baby’s father was. She finally confessed the truth about her pregnancy to me the night she died, and she’d made me swear to make sure Pippa knew how much she was wanted.
Adriana and I hadn’t been close friends until she came to me for care during her pregnancy. I’d known her, of course. Everyone in Hobie had known her. And she’d been in some of my high school classes growing up. But it wasn’t until her prenatal care and subsequent delivery of Pippa that we’d become close. The long hours of her labor had been a bonding experience unlike any I’d ever known. She’d told me all kinds of things she’d never told another soul.
Once the baby was here, I’d become her support system. She was alone, and I knew there was no way a single parent should have to handle everything on her own.
Adriana had just been settling into a routine and needing less help with the baby when she’d gotten the pulmonary embolism that had suddenly ended her life. With Goldie’s help, I’d immediately taken over Pippa’s care until social services had forced us to turn her over to them. Luckily, it had only taken several hours to process her back into Goldie’s care, and I lived in fear of what it would be like when I no longer had access to her whenever I wanted.
I followed Goldie out of the church, noticing the punk dude was no longer sitting in the back pew. Once I stepped into the bright sun of the churchyard, I spotted him standing off to the side, speaking to Honovi Baptiste, an attorney in town. As my eyes adjusted to the sunlight, I noticed the man with the blue-and-purple hair was actually strikingly beautiful in a way that looked familiar to me. Well, he would have been beautiful if he weren’t sporting a scowl on his face and wearing clothes that looked like he’d borrowed them from someone’s great uncle Melvin.
Despite the ridiculous button-down shirt and khaki trousers, the man was the furthest thing from a traditional Catholic churchgoer. His hair was short and dark on the back and sides but long on top and colored a rich purple with alternating stripes of deep turquoise. He ran his hand through it in apparent frustration, which made the colored locks ripple like an animation of a My Little Pony shaking out his mane
. His ear was lined with tiny spikes and hoops, and as I walked closer, I noticed a small silver barbell through one dark eyebrow, a small loop in one of his nostrils, and twin piercings on his full bottom lip. He had tattoos peeking out from his cuffs and collar as well as on his hands and fingers. I couldn’t help but wonder what ink and piercings might be hidden by his clothes, and the thought made my dick twitch. I ground my teeth at the inappropriateness of my response to this absurd character at my friend’s goddamned funeral.
Fair or not, I blamed the asshole for my response to him. He should have stayed away from Adriana’s service and met up with his lawyer some other time. He probably needed someone to defend him from a petty crime. Maybe the outfit was meant to make him look like an upstanding citizen in court. As if that were possible.
Before I had a chance to lead Goldie to where I’d parked my truck, I heard Honovi call out to me.
“West, come over here, will you?” he said. “You too, Mrs. Banks.”
Goldie and I turned to join Hon and his client.
The punk saw Goldie holding Pippa, and it was like he’d laid eyes on a horrible ghost of some kind. Or an alien erupting from someone’s face. He looked pale and terrified. I wondered who on earth could be so afraid of a tiny baby and more importantly why someone could. Or if he was a client of Hon’s, maybe he was simply scared about his trial.
Hon reached out to shake my hand before stepping toward Goldie to fawn over Pippa.
“Weston Wilde, Goldie Banks, this is Nico Salerno,” Hon said absently as he continued to coo at the baby. My stomach flipped, and my ears began to buzz as his words started to click together like puzzle pieces in my head. Hon continued, “Adriana’s brother. He’s here to take custody of Pippa.”
My jaw dropped, and I stared at the man in front of me. He didn’t even look twenty-five years old, and he was so stiff with attitude a strong breeze could knock him over. He was the unlikeliest man in the world to make a decent father for Pippa. This was Adriana’s long-lost brother? The good-for-nothing punk who’d gotten his precious feelings hurt and taken off when he was a kid?