Page 5

Dustin

W hat the fuck was she doing on my turf?

I push the food around on my plate. Normally after a fight I’m starving, but seeing Tina in the crowd tonight knocked me off kilter. First work and now my gym… my sanctuary? For ten years I’ve managed to avoid running into her and now she’s everywhere. What’s next, showing up at Anderson and Lily’s house for one of our post-fight dinners?

A slice of French bread lands on my plate with a plop, splattering spaghetti sauce on my shirt. I stare at the little fucker responsible and he kicks and squeals in his booster seat. Most kids would be shitting their pants being at the receiving end of one of my glares, but not Jackson, Bryce and Ember’s four-year-old son. He is a holy terror. God, I love the shit out of that kid.

“Jackson Case,” Ember says when he winds up for a second throw. She yanks another piece of bread from his fist. “We do not throw food.”

I wink at him and bite off a chunk of the bread swimming in my sauce. Ember scowls at me like I’m the reason for all her son’s bad behavior. She’s probably not wrong. It’s one of the many perks of being an uncle—I get to teach them all the bad shit and then go home.

After dinner, my brothers and I take the kids to the home gym to work off some of their energy before bed.

“How’s work going?” Anderson asks while fending off another attack from Parker, his and Lily’s six-year-old son. We all resemble our father to some extent, but no one more so than Anderson. From their shaved heads to their large builds, the two could give me and Colin a run for our money in the twinning department. Heck, even Anderson’s voice is spot on. Basically, our pops cloned himself. And they say I have a big ego.

I didn’t plan on telling them about the trip tonight, but once I open my mouth it just all spills out. If I thought I’d get sympathy from Anderson and Bryce for the rock and hard place I’ve found myself between, I was mistaken. Anderson throws his head back and roars with laughter, which starts a chain reaction—first Bryce, then each of the kids join in.

I cross my arms, not impressed. “I don’t see what’s so funny about this.” I wish Colin was here. This two-on-one shit sucks. I think about calling him again and putting him on speaker, but I’ve already talked to him a few times today and I remember how much I like my balls.

“Are you kidding?” Bryce asks from his position on the floor, where he holds his sleeping two-year-old son Jonas on his lap. “We all watched as you drooled over Tina when you guys were kids.”

Well, that’s news to me. Other than with Connor and maybe Colin, I thought I’d done a pretty good job of keeping my feelings close to the vest.

I playfully toss Jackson aside when he attacks me. Like a cat, he lands on his feet and charges me again. How many times did we do the same with our dad when we were kids? He was so tough. Unbeatable. And here I am letting a curvy chick with plump lips and sunrise hair kick my ass. And the fight hasn’t even started yet. Pathetic.

Whatever my brothers see on my face makes them laugh again.

I frown. “Oh, fuck off.”

As if my week couldn’t get any worse, Jackson parrots me perfectly. Anderson points at the door and I bite back another curse. I head for the kitchen, where I know a swear jar sits on the counter. I know because the damn thing has seen more of my money than my 401K since these little ankle biters came along.

When I enter the kitchen, Lily and Ember are sitting at the island counter. They watch my approach with varying degrees of pity. Great.

“Oh, no,” Ember says. “Can’t they give you a break?”

Lily swats at her arm. “Shush. We’re saving for a new TV for the game room.”

At this rate, I might as well just buy them the damn thing and call it good. I plan on being here for a while longer, so I add a few extra bills to the jar, and they both laugh.

“What was the reason for it this time?” Before Ember and Bryce hooked up, she used to be our cleaning lady, but my problem with Tina is not the type of dirty laundry I want aired.

I avoid the question and point to Ember’s round belly. “Haven’t you and Bryce figured out what causes that yet?”

She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Oh, we know all right.”

I make a gagging noise and leave the room.

After dinner, I usually go home and fall on my mattress until the sun rises. Given last night’s wrestling match with my sheets, I’m looking forward to it. I say goodbye to my family, fully intending to stick to my routine, but find myself heading west instead.

When I arrive at the beach, the orange Honda Civic—circa 1970s—is parked near the stairs. It’s seen better days, that’s for sure. I slow my truck to a crawl, checking it out. All the sea air exposure has oxidized the paint on the hood and top. There’s a crack in the windshield the length of my forearm. One hit from a pebble and the whole thing will shatter. The front tires are bald too. I shake my head. Jesus, doesn’t anyone take care of basic maintenance?

Not my problem. I tell myself, backing my truck into a spot out of sight. But still, I text a mechanic buddy of mine who works out at the gym. He responds right away, saying he has time this week to help me out.

Feeling moderately better, I pull my ball cap down low and take off on a run the second my feet hit the wet sand. The chances of being recognized are slim, but I head in the opposite direction just in case. I push myself until my legs ache and sweat drips down my body, then I return and plant my ass in the sand near the jutting rocks.

Fifty feet from me, Tina stands ankle-deep in the water, staring off into the horizon. The same gauzy skirt she wore to my fight is tied in a knot on the side of her leg and the big goofy hat she always wears to the beach flops in the breeze. The rays of sunlight touch the ends of her hair, and I dig my fingers into the warm sand, wondering what she’s thinking about. Before long the sun is kissing the water’s edge, and peach and orange paint the sky. I wait until she’s halfway up the stairs before following her. I sit in front of her house until her bedroom light turns off.

I’m nearing my own house when a call comes through from Christian. Briefly, I fantasize about letting it go to voicemail, knowing damn well he’s gonna bring up the trip. It’s the best few seconds of my life before reality wins.

“Okay.” His deep voice booms in the cab of my truck. “I gave you time—”

“Generous of you.” I stop at another fucking red light. Seriously, when did Heaven get so many streetlights?

“Watch it, kid.”

I’m twenty-five, hardly a kid at this point, but try telling that to all my pops’ friends. “By all means, continue reaming me out.”

His curse is muffled like he’s running a hand down his face. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that? Care to explain what’s going on with you?”

The light turns green, and I hit the gas a little harder than necessary. “Not particularly, no.”

“Chip…”

“What do you want me to say, that I lost my shit? Fine. I lost my shit, and it won’t happen again. Happy?”

“Lost your…” He pauses a second, and I’m guessing it’s to snap a few pencils like he’d like to snap my neck. “I had to meet with HR this morning and smooth your shit out.”

Did Tina complain? What a little nark.

“Seems,” Christian continues, interrupting my thoughts, “someone overheard your little suggestion for Tina and casually mentioned it to Karen.”

Shit. The first hint of remorse hits me at hearing this. Karen has worked for Lemmy from the beginning. She’s always been like a grandma to my brothers and me, giving us candy and cookies and basically spoiling us rotten whenever we’d go into the office. I can only imagine hearing sweet Dustin say, “ An assistant is only useful to me if she sucks my dick,” didn’t go over too well.

Even knowing this, I can’t help smiling when I remember the look on Tina’s face. She stood frozen with her mouth open, her cheeks pink, and her green eyes the size of dinner plates, like I offended her delicate sensibilities. I would’ve laughed then if I wasn’t so pissed at being blindsided. Who knew fucking with her would be so much fun?

I pull into my driveway and stare at the house I grew up in. Maybe I should get a dog. At least then someone would be home to greet me. A part of me worries when Colin and Stacy get back from their trip they’ll move away like Anderson and Bryce have. Then what? Will I live here alone? Sell it?

A reel of family memories runs through my mind. Like the time Colin and I learned to ride bikes in the driveway. Or when our dad played basketball with Anderson and Bryce while I showed off. There was the time I overestimated my skill level on a pair of rollerblades and broke my arm when I fell off the curb.

I rub the arm now when it twinges, and my gaze snags on the porch swing. How many times did Connor, Tina, and I sit there? Tina would be sandwiched between me and Connor, one of her thighs pressed along mine, clueless she was sending my teenage hormones into overdrive. I dreamed about that thigh for years.

Maybe moving wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Sighing, I shut off the truck’s engine and bring my cell to my ear. “I’ll apologize.”

“Good. And Chip?”

“Yeah?”

“Have a good flight.”

“I never said I was going.”

He just laughs before hanging up.