Page 4 of Enemies with Benefits (Finding the Right Brother #1)

Behind us stood our half-brother, Milo, his arm wrapped around the neck of our step-brother and Marcu's son, Elijah.

Both were grinning like fools, with Milo as tow-headed as ever, while Elijah was as dark-haired as his father.

The two had been thick as thieves from the moment Marcus and my mother met, and some inextricable bond had formed between them that had never broken.

Even as adults, they were tight, always talking on the phone, gaming together, and finding time for each other.

On the other side of Marcus stood our other adoptive brothers.

Arlo, the son of my mother's best friend before she and her husband had died in a plane crash in Jamaica, was giving his normal smile that would make you swear he knew more than he was telling. His hair flopping into his eyes as he gave that secret smile didn't help. Beside him was our other adoptive brother, Dominic, who’d technically come into the family after Moira and me but before Milo. Dom was a product of my mother and father adopting when they thought they wouldn’t be able to have another child and wanting an 'even three' as my mother had put it.

Milo was the youngest, even though he’d come into the family before Arlo and Dominic.

It was an interesting family dynamic and had caused some raised eyebrows over the years that I had mostly ignored.

These were all my brothers, and Moira was a sister to all of us.

Of course, there was the unspoken agreement that Moira and I had a special bond because of sharing a womb, but also a spoken understanding that Milo and Elijah had formed an equally close bond, though no one had quite figured out why.

Maybe it was their similar age, maybe it was just their personalities, the timing of our families being brought together, or.

..Well, I don't know, those two were absurdly close, and I was glad they had each other at least.

I felt a slight tug in my chest as I stared at the picture, wondering how my brothers had been.

I could claim that I’d tried my best to keep in contact over the years, but we all knew that wasn't true.

Life got in the way, and all too often, I found myself caught up in events in my life, their twists and turns.

My mother had been fond of her phrases over the years, and as I'd grown older, some had started to make sense.

"The days are long but the years are short," had been one of her personal favorites, said with a wistful sigh and sometimes a distant look that was equal parts sad and happy.

It had taken me a while to understand that one, but I finally got it, especially as I stared at the picture and realized it had been five years since it was taken.

That had been the last time we'd all come together as a family.

Otherwise, we just saw one another in spurts and moments, nothing coordinated, and not all at the same time.

Moira cleared her throat. "You good?"

I blinked, looking up at her as I tried to remember what we'd been talking about, but couldn't. "Uh, yeah. Just got lost in my thoughts, I guess."

"Don't hurt yourself, thinking hard like that."

"Hilarious. You missed your calling on the stage."

"I have been told my charm and magnetism were made for the stage."

"You're either lying, that person was lying, or they were extremely drunk, and high...and concussed."

Moira rolled her eyes. "And you say I should have been the comedian."

"It's not nearly as funny as the new sign out front," I said, slapping the desk and turning to walk toward the bar.

Moira groaned. "I knew it."

"Nothing to know," I said, walking away.

Had my sister been right about me being bothered by the change? Absolutely. Was there any way I would freely admit that to her face? Absolutely not.

What I was going to do was help myself to the bar.

It was shut for the night, but seeing how I wasn't a paying customer, I had no issue grabbing one of our better bourbons and looking for everything else I might want.

Owning my own club upstate meant I was used to being up late into the night, and saying good night to the sun shortly after it rose.

I was also used to pouring myself a few drinks in the middle of the night if I felt like it, and after the good part of the night, and now the annoying part, a few drinks couldn't hurt.

"Please," Moira said from behind me, and I didn't bother turning around because I knew she'd follow. "Help yourself."

"That I shall," I said, pouring bourbon and following it up with a dash of bitters before going on a hunt for the sweet vermouth. "But thank you, that is exactly the kind of customer service you should aspire to give."

"You're not a customer."

"Think of it as good practice."

"She kept the old name for ages. Thought it was time."

"Time to change it to her new last name."

"Her and Marcus have been married for years. If anything, the change was overdue. It's not the first time. It changed when she and Dad took over the place. So it was bound to happen."

"Hmm," I said as I poured the vermouth into the bourbon along with some ice and began stirring. "And what will you change it to when you take over?"

"Who said I was going to?"

"None of the rest of us have stuck around to manage this place."

"Just about every single one of us picked up enough when living here to figure out how to run it if they needed to. And then there's you, who?—"

"Runs a club, not a hotel," I pointed out, pouring the drink into a glass and setting the shaker aside for the next one I would inevitably make. "Two different businesses. And, if I wanted to run the hotel, I would have stuck around like you did."

She sighed, eyeing the shaker. "Really?"

I smirked, pouring the rest of the shaker into another glass and sliding it to her. "C'mon, you know I wasn't just going to make me one."

"Mhmm," she said, taking a sip and grunting. "Always with the bourbon."

"I like a nice tequila now and again."

"Yes, I remember our first time getting drunk was tequila. We thought we were so slick, taking a bottle that wasn't in the front of the house and had been stored away."

"Little did we know it was a five-thousand-dollar bottle that Marcus had been saving for a special occasion," I said with a snort. "One of the few times I thought Mom was going to break her 'no beating your kids' rule."

"To be fair, five thousand dollars a bottle is pretty steep. Especially when you realize your 'special occasion' was reduced to a couple of thirteen-year-olds who were the height of sneaky."

"True, but how many people can say they got drunk the first time on some of the most expensive tequila in the world?"

"Not many, and those that could are probably from families that make more in a month than this hotel pulls in a year."

"True."

"Now," she said, dropping onto a tall chair and watching me. "Are we going to talk about what you were doing before you got here? Or would you like to talk about the fact that it bothers you that Mom removed Dad's last name from the hotel?"

"I went for a scenic drive," I told her, leaning on the bar and taking a sip. "And who said it bothered me? I think it's funny."

"It's funny how you think I believe you."

"You did just say I should be a comedian."

"Mason."

"What? She's allowed to change it to anything she wants; she's the owner after all. If she wants to change it from her original last name to the new one, then she can. Plus, like you said, she and Marcus have been married for ages, it was long past due."

"I notice you can't bring yourself to say that it was Dad's last name...or mention him at all," she said, raising her brow as she brought the glass to her lips. "Kind of like how you've always avoided bringing him up."

"I mention him all the time."

"You tell people your dad died when you were young and Marcus took over the job and hassle of raising us...almost a direct quote."

"Then, see? I mention him."

"You always mention him vaguely, distantly, and then quickly move on."

The drink, which had been rich and smoky with just a hint of floral notes, now tasted too bitter, and I wondered if perhaps I’d added too many.

.. bitters. "Yes, well, he's dead, isn't he?

Not much to say about that. Am I supposed to spin a sad story about how a drunk driver hit him?

That he managed to hang on for almost a month in a coma, before finally losing the fight and dying?

It was years ago. People don't need or want to hear crap like that. "

"I notice you're leaving out a few details."

"Jesus," I groaned. "Why can't you let it go? Do you want me to apologize to you again because he was out that night because of me? That what you want?"

She stared at me, lips turned slightly down. " I never held that against you, no one did...except you."

"I was a kid, Moira," I told her with a huff.

"Of course I blamed myself. Because that's what kids do when they're young, stupid, and don't know how the world works.

Something out of their control happens, and they blame themselves because even if blaming yourself is awful and ugly, at least it means something was in your control.

You don't have to deal with the dread, ugly reality that life is cruel and capricious and sometimes, more often than we'd like, awful shit just happens.

No rhyme, no reason, no divine plan or punishment or whatever, it just happens.

But I'm a full-grown man who doesn't need to blame himself. "

She stared at me for several beats before looking away. I thought she was finally going.to let it drop and move on, but she uttered one soft word that stung. "Liar."

"Thanks," I muttered. "It's these compassionate and well-meaning heart-to-hearts that make me wanna come around more often."

"You know, that smartass, devil-may-care attitude of yours toward shit might work on everyone else. And the rest of the family might realize that it means they should leave you alone, but I'm not everyone else," she said. "I'm dropping it...for now."

"Joy of joys, you’ve decided to show mercy," I said with a roll of my eyes. "Maybe we could move on to the subject of why I was basically summoned here without explanation. Mom wasn't exactly forthcoming, and even you've been vague."

"Well, maybe if you showed up at a decent time of day, you'd have your answer tonight," she said with a roll of her eyes. "But because you decided to go joyriding?—"

"I did?—"

"So," she interrupted with a smirk. "This is not the first time you've rolled up looking like you took a tumble through the brush. The only difference is that you didn't show up being scruffed by a cop like a naughty puppy."

"That happened once."

"Three times."

"When I was a teenager."

"Which means you either aren't as good on your bike as you used to be because you fell off, or you're a lot better than you used to be and somewhere in the city, there's an extremely pissed off cop."

I hated how well she knew me sometimes. It wasn't like she was alone in it, my siblings and especially my mother were pretty good at figuring me out, but Moira was on an entirely different level.

I wasn't one to give in to the idea of a 'twin thing' as I'd heard it put, but there were times when I had to wonder if there was some power to having shared a womb.

It was never anything as eerie as us knowing when the other was hurt or upset, but both of us could home in on the other's thoughts with an unerring level of accuracy.

"The only trouble I've had with a cop lately was the one who lost the key to his cuffs. Thankfully, I know my way around a pair of handcuffs and got him out before we had to call someone to free him from my bedpost."

"Amazing. Fascinating. What a titillating story. Thank you for sharing."

"You loved it."

"I did not, no."

A familiar chuckle brought my head up. “Well, I for one enjoyed it. Of course, I might have enjoyed a few nights of my own with handcuffs."

Moira closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "Lord have mercy, hello, Mother."

Our mother snorted as she stepped into the bar area. “I hate when you call me that. I feel like I should be beating you over wire hangers."

"That was Mommy Dearest, not Mother Dearest," I said with a smirk.

“Count on you to remember something like that,” she said, smiling, and I turned around to give her a customary hug.

She had always been big on making sure none of us felt obligated to hug someone, no matter how much they wanted one.

It was a lesson we’d taken to heart to differing degrees, but I wasn’t alone in thinking she was allowed to be the exception to my ‘not a hugger’ attitude.

“I remember things,” I told her as I stood back and looked at her.

I didn’t think there was anything wrong, but it never hurt to check.

My dad had died because of an accident, but that didn’t mean death couldn’t come from any angle.

I would never admit I was worried about her, and she would never tell me something was wrong until she was sure and had a plan.

I didn’t have to wonder where Moira got that from.

“When it suits you,” she said fondly, patting my arm as she drew back.

“At least I don’t need a live-in, living reminder,” I pointed out.

“If it works for Milo and Elijah, then leave them be,” she chided.

“Wow, a mom being overprotective of the babies in the family, shocking!” I said, wryly.

“I put up with all my kids’ bullshit equally,” she replied. “Now, how about a drink at the bar?”

“I was thinking about lying down.”

“Oh, are you exhausted from your fall?”

“Fall? What fall?”

“You clearly had one on the way here by the looks of you, all banged up and not wearing your helmet.”

“I always wear a helmet.”

“Then where did those marks come from?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Moira said, and I groaned when I saw the mischievous glint in her eye.

“Were you?” our mother asked, looking at me. “Yes, I think you’ll have that drink with me.”

“Mom!” I protested, not caring that I sounded like a six-year-old being told no. I stopped when Moira followed her. “And what are you doing? You're on the clock.”

“I can be on the clock whenever I want,” she said with a grin. “If you think I’m gonna miss Mom making you squirm while you avoid telling her what you were up to tonight, you’re crazy.”

I sighed, hanging my head in defeat. I wasn’t getting out of it. Mom would get the information out of me, or they would make things miserable until I could escape to my room.

“Better make mine a double,” I muttered, trudging off to face my fate.

And my night had been going so well.