Page 75 of Single Malt

I looked over at him as I turned down the street Cory’s building was on. “Did you have one last night too?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Son of a bitch.”

He grinned at me, and I just shook my head. All of my siblings were good-looking, and Sean was certainly no exception. He and Xander were identical, and the two of them had been the most popular people in their class, pretty much from kindergarten to graduation. They probably would’ve been just as popular on their own – their careers proved that – but together, they’d garnered more attention than the rest of us ever had.

“You can’t be jealous,” Sean said as I pulled into the building’s parking lot. “It’s not like you have a hard time finding dates.”

Clear blue eyes flashed into my mind, and I pushed them away.

“Some of us work for a living,” I said. “We can’t all get paid just to run our mouths.”

He laughed, following me into Cory’s building. “Says the brother who gets paid to drink beer and whiskey.”

“Make,” I corrected. “I make it.”

“And you drink it.”

“Well, yes, but someone has to taste-test.” I held up the six-pack I’d brought with me. “At least I share.”

“Aren’t we going to a bar?” Sean asked as he knocked on Cory’s door. “Why’d you bring your own?”

“Because Shannon’s makes superior beer.”

Cory opened the door and motioned for us to come inside. “Fury’s running late, so he’s going to meet us there.”

“I thought the best part of having your own business was that you got to set your own hours,” Sean said.

“Says the guy who only works a couple hours a few days a week.”

“Give him a break, Cory,” I jumped in. “We all know who doesn’t work the hardest in the family. We don’t need to beat him over the head with it.”

Sean glared at both of us. “You know I write my own lectures, right? And I did all the writing for my book too. No ghostwriter. Just me.”

“I have to admit,” I said, “I did like seeing your name on theNew York TimesBest Seller list for thirteen weeks.”

“Number one for four weeks,” Cory said.

We were family, so of course, we were going to mess with each other, but we were all proud of each other’s accomplishments.

“Put the beer in the fridge,” Cory gestured toward the kitchen. “I just need to put on my shoes.”

By the time I’d done as he asked, Cory was ready, and the three of us headed downstairs to get the cab Cory had called. He had a car but getting a cab meant none of us had to worry about watching how much we drank. I didn’t think any of us planned to get drunk, but no matter the number of stupid decisions any of us had made in our lives, driving under the influence had never been one of them. Even the years Eoin had seemed to be bent on self-destruction, he’d never put others in danger.

The thought of Eoin took away some of my excitement at the night out with my other brothers, but he wouldn’t have wanted me to ruin the night because I felt guilty for being here while he was in the hospital. When he came home, we’d take him out too.

When we arrived at the bar, I was surprised to see how close to the Stanford campus we were. And surprised that my heart immediately began to beat faster at the thought of Freedom possibly being here too.

Shit.

I didn’t want to think about her tonight. She was the last thing I wanted on my mind.

And she was the reason I’d been staying away from the university since that last night I’d seen her. She hadn’t responded to my text about picking up Paris at the hospital, and that had been that. I’d moved on.Wasmoving on.

When we walked inside, we found Fury waiting, but he assured us he hadn’t been there long. Since he’d come straight from the office, he still wore a dress shirt and his suit pants, but he’d left off the tie and jacket. With the sleeves rolled up and the top button undone, he looked less like the intense businessman who’d started a ground-breaking company and more like a graduate student or TA.

He was a month younger than me, but he’d always seemed so much older, even when we were kids. He and his biological brother, Blaze, had been nine and eleven when both of their parents had been killed in a car accident. Their sister, Rose, had only been a year old, and even though they’d come straight to us since Theresa had already possessed all the paperwork for guardianship, they’d struggled with letting their aunt take care of their sister. I knew Austin and Alec both had felt similar responsibilities for their younger siblings – I had too to some extent – but we’d all had at least one parent. The Gracens had lost both at the same time.