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R yan took over doing the dishes, which was fucking annoying. I told him I had it under control, but he winced and wrung his hands together, mumbling about how he would ‘ prefer to do them.’

Guess I couldn’t even fucking do the dishes right.

“Fine,” I snapped, ripping the dish towel off my shoulder and tossing it on the counter. I turned to leave when Ryan wrapped a hand around my bicep to stop me.

No matter how fucked up I was feeling, I couldn’t bring myself to pull away from him. This man had a fucking chokehold on me.

“What?” I asked, a little more curtly than I intended.

He was looking up at me with that adorably innocent little frown he sometimes got when he was anxious.

“Are you sure everything is ok?”

No.

Nothing was ok, but I couldn’t tell him that. He already thought I was some sort of pathetic invalid who needed care.

I was supposed to be taking care of him.

Not the other way around.

I forced myself to soften so he wouldn’t worry about me any more than he already was.

“I’m fine, baby,” I said, dropping a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’m just going to, uh, go clean my gun.”

He nodded, accepting the lie, before turning back to the mess I had left him.

I watched him slip into ‘Ryan mode’ and bit back a smile. I loved how he looked at messes like they were tiny battle scenes that needed to be conquered.

My smile slipped away, however, when I remembered that he didn’t even think I was capable of washing a few fucking dishes.

Biting back a growl, I stalked out of the kitchen and headed up to our bedroom.

Well, I guess his bedroom now.

There was no way I was staying here like some sort of fucking charity case. I would get my own spot so he didn’t feel like he needed to support me out of some misguided sense of obligation.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how much of my funds had gone into eliminating Damian’s hits on my sisters.

Did I even have enough left to buy a house?

Worse came to worse, I could sell the g wagon. That would get me a few hundred grand…

But then what?

What the fuck was I going to do for money now?

Get a… job?

An unwelcome vision of me flipping burgers at the local McDicks floated across my vision, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

Not that I thought there was anything wrong with that. If that’s what I had to do to make money and support Naomi, I would fucking do it.

But what would Ryan think?

He was an established business owner, and I was an uneducated, broke ex-mercenary working a minimum wage job?

Would that be a turn-off?

I let out a growl, rubbing my hand down my face in frustration when I heard the door open. On reflex, I ripped my gun out of my waistband and pointed it at the intruder, only to immediately relax when I realized it was just Cassandra.

I rolled my eyes.

“What are you doing here, Cass? I thought you would be deep cleaning your condo by now.”

She snorted. “You think I clean the condo? I obviously hire out.”

I smirked. “Ah, yes. I forgot you don’t like rubber gloves.”

She flipped her glossy hair over her shoulder and wandered over to the desk by the window, running her perfectly manicured fingers over the antique wood appreciatively.

“They make your hands all sweaty. It’s bad for the nail beds.”

“Right.”

“Anyway. I didn’t come up here to talk about good nail hygiene.”

“Then why did you come up here?”

“I came up here to find out why you’re pouting like a little whiny baby.”

“Jesus Christ, Cass. You’re the worst.” I sighed, flopping down on Ryan’s bed. She leaned against the desk, crossing her arms over her stomach.

Even just sitting in the house all day, Cassandra looked incredibly put together. Her cream silk blouse was tailored and looked like pure luxury. She had it stylishly tucked into a high-waisted skirt, and her toned legs were crossed before her. Her bare but perfectly manicured feet looked ready to slip into some strappy designer sandals at any moment.

We had completely different styles, but as annoying as she sometimes was, she was one of the few people on this planet who really got me.

Naomi was too young to remember the basement, but Cassandra and I had lived through that together. There was a time when we were all the other had, and we had clung to each other in the dark.

We both knew what it was to claw your way out of a desperate situation with your bare fucking hands, and we both had the scars to prove it.

Cassandra ran her hand through her thick, dark hair, and the sleeve of her blouse rode up her arm, exposing the skeleton key she had tattooed on her wrist.

It was the twin of the key I had tattooed on my chest. We had gotten them done together so we would never forget who we were fighting for.

“Spill it, little brother. I don’t have all day,” she snipped, and I sighed, knowing there was no way I was getting out of this.

“I feel like a loser. I don’t have a job, and Ryan basically just told me I could stay here out of fucking pity. It’s not hot.”

Cassandra raised a razor-sharp brow and gave me an irritated look.

“So? Get a job.”

“With what skills?” I snapped. “I’m not really interested in perfecting the phrase ‘ do you want fucking fries with that.’”

She rolled her eyes. “First of all, I don’t think you’re supposed to curse at the customers.”

“ Cassandraaaa,” I whined. “This is serious. I can’t have my man taking care of me like this. I would rather die.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cal. Stop being a pussy,” she snapped, clearly annoyed that I would even joke about taking my own life. She stalked toward me, her brown eyes burning with that same passion she had so many years ago when we had stood at the top of the stairs together. Ready to go to war for our sister.

“Know what I’m hearing? A bunch of excuses. When I decided I wanted to be a lawyer, do you think I sat around and bitched and whined that I was so much farther behind the other kids?”

I pursed my lips but shook my head.

“No.”

“That’s right. I fucking put in the work, ” she said, reaching forward and brushing my hair off my forehead. It was a sweet, sisterly touch and directly contrasted with the intense look on her face.

“You know just as well as I do that no one in this life is going to hand us shit, Callum. If you want something, you’re going to have to do whatever is necessary to take it for your damn self.”

I swallowed. She was right.

“So… what is it that you want?”

I thought about it for a second.

Ryan. I wanted fucking Ryan. I wanted to make all his goddamn dreams come true. I wanted to be there for him. I wanted him to lean on me. Rely on me. I wanted him to not be able to imagine his life without me in it… so how did I do that?

Suddenly. It hit me, and I felt like such a fucking idiot that it took my bitchy ass sister to force me to get there.

A slow smile spread across my face, and my eyes locked on Cassandra’s.

“Can you help me shop for a suit?” I asked, and her blood-red lips curled at the corners, her eyes shining.

“Now you’re speaking my language.”