Page 62 of The Story of You

I’m at the table in the kitchen with Simon on my left and Shane on my right. Shane’s long hair is still wet from the shower he took when he got home from work. Darry’s across from me. Even Asher’s joined us, but he’s sitting on the counter, his bare feet hovering above the floor. I’ve forgotten how roughly cut he is like he stepped out of a copy of an outback magazine. He’s not as thick as the major, but he’s got plenty of muscle built from hard work and the easy demeanor that goes with someone who’s comfortable in their body.

Darius is quiet, and for once not making fun of my “Princess Oliver” problems.

“You want me to knock’im around a bit for yah, little lady,” he says.

I flush hot. It’s been a minute since he’s called me that. “No. I just need to clear my mind. It’s fucked up, but also a very Silas thing to do.”

“I’m of two minds,” Simon says with a clenched jaw, rubbing a hand over my hand. “Silas thinks this is what protecting you means, and he won’t budge on it, Oliver.”

“I know.” I’d already come to that conclusion.

“He’ll demand that Julius does the same for the same reasons without compunction. Your safety is worth more to Silas than anything in the world.”

I’m really getting that now like I never have before. God. What he went through and yet Young Silas’s only purpose was to make sure I was cared for. Not just the necessities either—that wasn’t good enough—he wanted me to have everything and he’s never missed a beat. Every recital, every performance, every bad dream, every sniffly nose. He’s been there.

He’s devoted his life to keeping me safe and taking care of me. He’s too set in his ways to change, and I don’t know that I want him to. The very thought of it stirs the clawing feeling deep in my chest.

“But there’s a difference between your relationship with Silas and the one you have with Julius, Oliver,” Simon says. “I think you know what it is.”

We all turn at the sound of the key at the front door. Wyatt appears at the entryway of the kitchen, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to him. His grey eyes are tired, but they still shine. He heads straight for the fridge and grabs the carton of orange juice, chugging the whole thing in three hearty gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in sync with his swallows.

Asher’s gaze is focused on Wyatt. I pretend not to see, but it’s hard not to smile. I might be reading too much into things—Iwantto read too much into things—but he’s never looked at anyone but Darry inthatway. Like he’s a bit shy. Really turned on.

Asher and Darry have always had others around. I knew what was up. But they never sparkled at the men they brought home and there were a few they—and everyone—adored.

Asher is sparkling at the major. I wonder if he knows? He snaps his gaze away when he sees I’ve caught him. Don’t know what he’s worried about. He’ll deny it, so it’s not like I’m gonna tell anyone.

Darius bounds up from his seat at the table. “Back from your run, Daddy? How far did you go this time? He can run super far,” he stage-whispers to the rest of us.

“Twelve miles. Any more juice?” He shakes the empty container.

“I’ll get it,” Darius sings. He rushes to the pantry. Jesus. Darius is downright sunny.

“So, we’re just okay with him drinking all the juice? What if I want some fucking juice?” Asher says.

“Shut up, Asher. Jesus fucking Christ. I can buy the store out of juice, and I will for Daddy.”

Asher proceeds to make gagging sounds. Darius whacks him in the chest. The major looks like he’s chewing nails, but he’s quiet, letting them do what they do.

“Just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we should.” Asher hops off the counter, which means he has to go around Wyatt and heads straight for me to plant a kiss on the top of my head. “You’ll figure it out, sweet turnip. The offer to rough people up always stands.”

“Thanks, Asher.”

Asher struts from the room. Wyatt stares after him, drinking the new container of warm juice despite his complaints. I’m with the major. If I’d run that far, I’d want fucking juice too. I bet he was running at some insane marine man pace too. He looks like he’s been drenched by a hose. He’s not affected by Asher. Not negatively anyway. An amused smirk seeps into his expression.

“Why’s he bein’ protective of you, baby eagle bird?”

Am I allowed to have a small crush on Wyatt? I think I do. I give Wyatt the low-down and he takes off his t-shirt, revealing the abs that are evermore chiseled by the day. Jesus.

“Then I agree with him. I’m gonna go over there and knock heads together.”

He probably could. “No. I’ll be fine. This vent session helped. I know what I wanna say to them.”

“Well, it’s too late for you now, Ollie-Ollie. My motherly instincts to care for you have kicked in and you’re staying for dinner.” He stands, running a hand over my head.

“I’m fine with that.”

“Do you want to stay the night?” Shane asks. “Wyatt will be all too happy to drag Asher to bed with them. You can have Asher’s room.”