Page 113 of Rev

“Rather die,” I murmur into the mouth of the can. I try for teasing humor. “Smart of you. Not going the ‘if you hurt her we hurt you’ route.” I grin after I say it. Or, smirk, at least.

Angus just snorts.

Jordan swirls his beer in his can, grinning at me. “Well, for one, that’s just not who we are. And for another, I’m not sure there’s enough of us to make good on that threat.”

I huff as I take a swig. “You gotta try, my recommendation is a high-powered hunting rifle from half a klick.” I drain the can, crush it in my fist, toss it into the bin. “Got a fighting chance, that way.”

“Don’t even know what a klick is,” Andrew says, his first contribution to the conversation; mainly, he’s been carefully sipping and just watching.

“Kilometer, but as you’d walk it,” I answer.

“Oh.”

The conversation wanders, then. They ask innocuous enough questions about my time in spec ops, and I answer as I’m able. I find out that Angus and Jordan both work for their father, building homes, and we talk about that a bit.

Ben is a bank manager, and looks it—short, soft, not in great shape, wearing khakis and a polo with shiny loafers like that’s his idea of dressing down, a neat side part in his brown hair. I watched him dote on Juniper, and watched her fawn on him, so clearly he’s got something going on, because of Myka’s siblings, Juniper is the only other one that can hold a candle to Myka in terms of sheer physical appeal. She’s taller than Myka, taller than her fiancé, with waist-length blond hair, and a legit hourglass body, her curve appeal obvious even though she’s dressed in a floor-length loose skirt and a T-shirt picked for comfort rather than fit.

Kellan is an odd guy. No one has mentioned what he does, and neither has he. Super tall, like six-six, but super thin, with giant hands. He’s got some brown to his skin that tells me he’s mixed race one way or another, with black hair and bright green eyes. Haven’t heard him say much, but he’s never far from Mallory, and even though I never saw them being openly touchy, they always seem aware of each other, trading meaningful looks. At one point, I did see them disappear together, heading off into the woods next to the house, and when they came back, Kellan was mellower than before and Mallory’s skirt was a little twisted.

Andrew is a big guy, over six feet, with a body that says he was once really built but he’s let it go, some. A belly, but a sense of strength about him. Buzzed brown hair, thick beard. Hands that say he works with them, as does his dirty jeans and battered Caterpillar boots—I found out he also works for Myka’s dad, as a site foreman.

The signal, apparently, is a piercing whistle. It’s clearly audible even from the barn.

Andrew is the first to his feet, draining his can.

I follow them back to the house, where I find out that no one is leaving—all the siblings and their significant others are staying here. Angus and Callie, Jordan and Lou, Juniper and Ben all say their goodnights and vanish upstairs. Andrew pauses in the den, standing behind Ana as she lounges on the couch; she looks up at him upside down, her fingers tugging on his beard as they have a murmured conversation, and then he heads upstairs, too. Kellan and Mallory announce they’re going downstairs to watch TV together; this gets them a frown from Faith, as if she knows they don’t plan on watching TV and doesn’t approve, but she says nothing.

This leaves Faith, Ana, and Myka—and me. It’s clear the three women are still deep in conversation, so I hang in the kitchen and pick at a bowl of strawberries that’s appeared on the counter, doing my best to not listen in.

“Rev, honey.” Myka’s voice, calling for me.

I glance at her from my spot. “Hmm?”

She tilts her head for me to go over there, so I go. She’s next to Ana, with her mom kitty-corner on the other arm of the sectional, creating a triangle. I do what Andrew did, stand behind her, looking down at her.

“You want to head up, too?” she asks.

I glance at her, her mom, her sister. “You guys are talking. I’m good.”

“I don’t want you to feel left out, though.” She touches my chest, gazing up at me, her fingers lightly scratching—touching just to touch, maybe a reminder to me. Or just because. “My family are all early to bed, early to rise types.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s barely eleven.”

Myka grins, directing it at her mom and sister. “Working at the club like we do, our night is just getting started about now.”

I twist my index finger into a lock of her honey blond hair. “I’m good, Myka. I’ll go outside. Walk around. Look at the stars a bit.”

“Rev, I can—”

I cut her off with a smile, a tug on that lock of hair. “Need some air anyway. Time alone. Not from you, just…” I shrug.

“Today was a lot for you,” she fills in. “You need Rev time.”

I nod, relieved she gets it. “Right.” I move to leave, then, but Myka snags my hand.

“Hey, now.” She grabs my shirt, hauls me down. “Not without kissing me, first.”

I let her pull me down, and her hand slides up over my neck, palming the back of my head, and she kisses me, digging her fingers into my hair, thumb rubbing my scalp beside the edge of my hair. Not a quick dry peck, either. It lasts a long moment, and it’s deep, meaningful.