A Brother's Secret

by A. J. Downey

  I stopped by the club. I’d let her eat breakfast and had swapped my SUV for my bike before we’d taken off, back for Indigo City. Unfortunately, the plan had been to spend one more night at the club but I’d deviated, so while she was at home with no car, her shit was here. I went through the club’s front door and was stopped by Dragon in the common room looking up over his paper and saying, “What the fuck you all dressed up for, boy?”

  I smirked. “Meeting with a client in the city this morning,” I told him and he raised an eyebrow. “What? Got to look respectable and shit sometimes when charming the citizens.”

  “Mm, what about your girly girl?”

  “Back at my place.”

  “Thought you were supposed to come back here.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I went over. He was being awfully chatty, and since he opened the door… Well, I could use the unsolicited advice that was burning in his gaze. Okay, maybe it wasn’t advice that was there, at least not yet, but the curiosity was and Dragon was always good for some pretty sound advice when it was called for.

  I dropped into the chair across from him and waited for the inevitable leading question. He and I were always good for a game of mental chess over any given situation and, I think, it was one of the reasons we appreciated each other. I know I was one of very few men that could, on occasion, out-fox our president. It made me both useful to him and gave us a unique friendship outside of some of the other guys, including, every once in a while, his own son. Although, the rift in their relationship had been steadily healing over the last couple of years.

  “Stopping by to pick up her stuff?” he asked and I nodded, not breaking eye contact. His teeth showed white in his salt and pepper beard, despite how heavily he smoked. “Right,” he nodded, “I’ll cut the bullshit this time.”

  “Appreciated,” I said.

  “How’s she doing? What’s got you worried?”

  I sighed, “I don’t even know if I should be worried. I’ve seen Mali go through some shit before and she’s always bounced back pretty hard and pretty fast, coming back better than ever but…”

  “But?”

  “But she’s never given up, not once, not ever…”

  I told him about her admission in the tattoo shop to Lexi’s ex-lover, because, let’s face it. She may have been boning that guy, but he didn’t have the first fucking clue as to who or what kind of woman Mali really was. I was dead certain I was the only one privy to that information and selfish me, I didn’t mind keeping it that way for the time being. Not that I wanted to keep her to myself completely. Not that I wanted her some kind of dependent on me… it was just nice to have that specialness back. At least, for right now.

  I hoped, that eventually, she could feel and be herself around at least the club. She needed badly to expand her world, but I also didn’t want to push her past her comfort zone too fast or too fierce. Mali burned hot; she was a pressure cooker of emotion and wildness, and right now, to me, she felt like she was on a tightwire, striking a fine balance in this major life transition of hers. If she took her eyes off the prize, she was going to slip and I was going to lose her to the void… forever.

  I sighed and looked at Dragon plaintively, “I feel like we’re in this wild, dangerous place where the call of the void isn’t just some whisper out of the dark. It’s a fucking siren’s call and that scares the shit out of me, D.” He looked somber and nodded.

  “She’s been through a lot of shit, that’s for sure, brother; but now she can’t run from it. It’s the end of the line and it’s got her backed into a corner and she’s got to deal with it.”

  It was a grim proclamation, and one I had expected. Still, I was none too happy to hear it. We’d been apart for so long, we’d lived separate lives, and now I wasn’t sure if I knew what to do. I said as much.

  “Take it a step at a time,” Dragon suggested. “Definitely do not deal with it all at once.”

  “Jesus, there’s so much, I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Best you don’t start at the beginning. Maybe start with the here and now and work your way back. You feel me?”

  I nodded slowly. “Get her set up and stable, that way she feels secure.”

  “Right. Gotta give her the high ground, make the teeming horde bottleneck and work their way up to her, so’s she can cut ‘em down one thing at a time.”

  “She lets herself get overwhelmed,” I said.

  “So, use the dick god gave you and distract her with it.”

  I laughed. Couldn’t argue, it had worked last night, even if it had been a short reprieve and sex was a great stress reducer.

  “Thanks,” I said getting up.

  “No problem.”

  I got up, and shook the man’s hand out of respect, and went to collect Mali’s things. When I got back to the house, I found her right where I’d left her, racked out and exhausted in my bed. I stood there for I don’t know how long, just staring at her. She was like a dream made flesh. Everything I had ever wanted, everything I had ever wished upon stars for, or prayed to whatever god, whatever powers that be – fate, karma, the universe – fuck. I didn’t know what was out there, but whatever it was, I had begged and pleaded with it for her and here she was.

  Who said dreams didn’t come true?

  Of course, I’d been a realist about it. I knew she wasn’t going to come back to me completely undamaged, completely unbroken. She’d always been the stronger of the two of us on the day to day, but I guess now it was my turn to really hold her up and hold her together. I’d relied on her plenty of times growing up to take care of shit I was ill equipped to deal with… Feelings weren’t always her forte, so I guess it was time for a bit of a crash course.

  One thing at a time… I reminded myself. Baby steps.

  I set her things off to the side and quietly stripped bare, going around to what I guessed would be my side of the bed from now on, and slipping between the sheets. I cuddled up to Mali’s back and drew her into the curve of my body. She stirred and mumbled something unintelligible.

  “Shhh, go back to sleep,” I whispered.

  “Mm. Mm-hm,” she murmured and her breathing evened and deepened. She was exhausted and I couldn’t say I blamed her. I was pretty much right there with her. So I closed my eyes, breathed her in, and slept right along with her.

  28

  Amalia…

  It was night when I woke again. I vaguely remember Kyle coming home and curling back up with me, but now I was finally awake and not only did I need to pee, I was fucking starving. I was also alone in the room, but not in the house. Don’t ask me how I knew. Practice? A sixth sense? Who knew, but I knew he was somewhere in the house with me, down below.

  I pushed myself up, body feeling stiff and abused, as much from all the riding as from the brutally beautiful and powerful lovemaking last night. Also, I think, maybe, too much sleep. I sat up and found one of Kyle’s black tees at the end of the bed waiting for me. I pulled it over my head and went into the bathroom in here, used it, and splashed some cold water on my face to wake myself up. It was refreshing, and once I’d blotted it off with a nearby towel and finger-combed my hair into some semblance of sanity, I went in search of my man.

  I found him in his dad’s old den, which wasn’t old anymore and had been transformed into something out of a sci-fi nerd’s wet dream. I leaned against the doorway and stared at him, illuminated by the blue glow of multiple computer screens as he read through what looked like emails. Only Kyle could make that shit look sexy. He sat in a super comfortable-looking desk chair in a pair of black drawstring lounge pants and a black wife-beater.

  He let out a breath in an explosive sigh and leaned forward, his long fingers playing over the keys of an ergonomic keyboard, which I couldn’t stand those damn things, no matter how good they were for your wrists.

  “Hey handsome,” I said softly and he jumped slightly, but didn’t seem too startled. He gave me a side-eye glance, finished typing his thought without loo
king, quickly checked it and hit ‘send’ before turning.

  “Hey, sleeping beauty,” he said back and I pushed off the door jamb and padded down the two steps, into the room. The carpet was light, and plush under my feet as I went to him. He reached up, hands smoothing around my waist and guided me into his lap. I put my arms around his shoulders and leaned down to kiss him and it felt like my broken shards were grinding together.

  I loved how the simple act of having his lips against mine eased the grinding ache of emotion. It soothed some of the hurt into a dull roar instead of the clamoring cacophony of an angry metal concert that it’d been since the confrontation at Indigo Ink.

  I cradled his cheek in the palm of my hand and rested my forehead against his, just soaking up his calm. Grateful that after all these years apart, he still had it. That cool, collectedness to him that soothed the crazy I almost always had going on inside. I mean, for real, no one I’d encountered before or since had such a tranquilizing effect on my inner crazy. Not like Kyle did.

  “I missed you so much,” I breathed and his arms tightened around me.

  “I missed you, too, baby,” and the way he said it was a shot right to my heart. Like he’d been missing such a significant part of his life for so long and that the missing piece was finally fucking here. The tide of guilt started rising again and I was so fucking sick of it. Just tired of it. It was mentally and emotionally exhausting and a damn near constant companion.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “For what?” he demanded gently and I let out a pent-up breath and came clean.

  “I feel like I broke us, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  He chuckled and shook his head, leaning up and pecking me on the tip of my nose. He met my eyes with his, decided the cute move wasn’t enough and kissed me gently, then deeply. I drew back and held him off.

  “I’m serious.”

  “You didn’t break us, Amalia Rose. The Boyle family crime syndicate did.”

  “I still can’t believe I murdered a crime boss’ son. That’s like the plot line of one of those really bad action movies we watched all the time as kids.”

  “You didn’t murder him, baby. You defended your deadbeat cheating huckster of a father, and I know he’s your dad and you loved him but that doesn’t change that he was a real piece of work and that he fucked you over entirely too much and entirely too many times.”

  He rushed all that out, heading me off and I harrumphed, “I want to argue with you, take up for him, but I think we’re past that now.” I wasn’t a kid anymore. I was old enough to know better, and I did. I knew Kyle was right. My dad was a piece of work. A real piece of work.

  “Didn’t stop him from being your dad, and doesn’t stop you from loving him, but if there’s anyone to blame for you being taken from me, it’s him and I’m going to be angry. I can’t not be angry… but don’t you dare try to take that shit on yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He captured my face between his hands and I ripped my eyes from where I had fixed them on his fancy, modern desk. His burned with such a fierce sincerity some of my resolve weakened and it was like a chunk of something I had no name for broke off and fell away. My soul felt slightly lighter than a moment before.

  I changed the subject. I’d never been awesome with feelings, and to be honest, I’d been punished for them so much as a kid, that it had become worth it to just bury them and ignore them for the most part.

  “Got anything to eat around here?” I asked.

  He smiled brightly and said, “Oh yeah, I’ve got something.”

  He gave me a little nudge to let him up and I stood. He followed suit and guided me in front of him out of the study, down the hall, to the kitchen. I stopped and stared at the little dining nook in the corner by the windows, by the back door.

  It felt like a real blow to the center of my chest. I mean, this had been the central hub of our childhood lives. This was the table of science projects and dinner every night. I went over to it and touched the old wooden tabletop and turned.

  “Told you it wasn’t all different,” he said softly.

  We’d never eaten at the fancy dining room table except for special occasions. Thanksgiving, birthdays, Christmas… that sort of thing.

  I sank into ‘my’ chair and Kyle smiled from across the kitchen.

  He got into the fridge and microwaved a couple of plates. Midway through the second plate, the aroma reached me. I blinked and sat up a little straighter as he grabbed napkins and silverware and brought the two plates over.

  “Made it special for you. Found her recipe for it after she died…”

  “Mom’s Mac and Cheese.” My vision blurred and I looked at him and sniffed. “Fuck you,” I said savagely and he laughed and came around, kneeling by my chair and gathering me up while I broke down in fucking girly-assed sobs.

  So many things came swarming out of the dark place I kept them and it was like I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t want to feel all of this mess, but I couldn’t stop it. I felt pitched into a storm-swept sea and I was drowning in the black, but then there was Kyle. He was a rock to cling to as the tides ripped at me and tried to drag me into their undertow.

  “I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay,” he murmured and I believed him. I trusted him implicitly and knew that if anybody had my back in this life or the next, it was him.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you!” I cried and it was true. It killed me that his parents, who might as well have been mine for all they looked after me when my dad was off scheming, had died and I had missed it. I had missed being there for him. Of course, it was also news to me and hadn’t been something I’d had a lot of time to process. Even when I was down in Florida, I think I’d had myself fooled some. Was living in denial. There was no denial to be had, sitting here in ‘Mom’s kitchen, without her in it.

  “It’s all right, I look at it this way. I needed to get over it, come to terms with it, so when it was your turn like it is now, I could be strong for you. It’s all good, baby. Trust me, it’s all good. You’re home, with me, and that’s all that matters now.”

  Leave it to Mr. Rational to have an answer for fucking everything. His words should have made me feel better, and they did, so why did I feel like I dropped like a stone further into the depths of despair?

  29

  Data…

  “She doing better?” Dragon asked me a few days later. I blew out a breath between gritted teeth, my cheeks turning into bellows to force the rest of the air out and took the half a second my mouth was occupied doing it to think.

  “Yes and no,” I said finally, into the phone.

  He’d called me, but his question had been his version of a greeting. It was one of the things I liked about him. He was to the point, didn’t waste people’s time or treat the important things like a game, not when hearts and minds were on the line to this degree.

  “She around you?” he asked.

  “No, I’m out on a gig.” I sat back in the borrowed desk chair while my laptop ran through the diagnostic code on its screen, hooked up to the client’s mainframe trying to figure out why the fuck it was doing what it was doing.

  “Where’s she at?”

  “Home, why?”

  “She settling in?”

  “Again, yes and no.”

  “She’s the active type,” he said judiciously.

  “Yup.”

  “Think it’s time to find her a job or something?” I chewed my bottom lip. “Data?”

  “I’m thinking,” I said.

  Dragon grunted on the other end of the line, “You didn’t hear it from me, but Trigger is impressed. Hasn’t shut up about her artwork.”

  “Shit, yeah, he has her portfolio, doesn’t he?”

  “Might want to take her by the shop. A familiar setting, even if it’s different, might do her some good. Break her outta that funk you were complaining about.”

  “Was honestly waiting for her to say something about being bored,” I
said with a smile. “Don’t want her to rush into anything. She’s good at that.”

  “Boy, please. She’s a work-horse type, needs to be involved in something. You can tell her type from a mile off.”

  I smiled to myself, he wasn’t wrong. It was probably time to put out some feelers and see if there was something I could get her into, even if it was only part time. Sometimes all you needed was something to focus on.

  “Thanks for checking in, D.”

  “You got it, what brothers are for.” he said.

  Yeah, sometimes I just needed the reminder. My laptop beeped and I looked up, “That’s my cue. I’ve gotta go.”

  “See you this Friday?”

  “Yep.”

  “Keep the shiny side up, brother.”

  “You too, man. Bye.”

  I hung up and set my phone down, muttering to myself, “Now why the fuck would you do that?” at the technology in front of me, letting my work suck me under and roll me.

  My brain felt the consistency of fried mush when I got home, but the sound of Mali striding quickly up the hall and appearing in nothing but one of my shirts definitely perked me up some. She practically crashed into me, greeting me enthusiastically, and I let my laptop bag slide to the floor so I could get my hands on her.

  “I missed you,” she murmured into my mouth and I pulled her in tighter, urging her, with my hands against her thighs to give a jump and wrap her legs around my hips. She complied, and I carried her to the first available surface my tired brain could come up with.

  Just so happens, that surface was the granite kitchen countertop. I set her down and she squealed, writhing declaring “Goddammit, Kyle, that’s cold!”

  I laughed and she did too, and it was the first one I’d heard from her in a few days. I was glad this was a good one for her. I looked her in the eyes and said, “I’m going to do you against this kitchen counter, then I want to take you somewhere.”

  “Oh, promises, promises,” she declared, but she was already working buttons loose on my black shirt. I grinned and covered her mouth with mine. She kissed me with some of that fire of hers and pushed my shirt back off of my shoulders. I pulled it off and let it hit the floor, intent on getting inside her.