Falling For Them Volume 2: Reverse Harem Collection

by Nikki Bolvair

  Hamilton’s mouth drops open in shock. “But didn’t you say you hadn’t seen them in nine years? You would have been...” He trails off, counting on his fingers before he squints at me. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four.” I reach for the breadstick once more, tearing it in half. It won’t do much to soak up the pitcher of beer already in my stomach, but I should make the attempt regardless. Peeking at Hamilton’s shocked expression, I nod glumly. “We were too young to have found out.”

  “No Thread Reader would have told a bunch of fifteen-year-olds something that life altering.” Indignation fills his voice.

  The Thread Readers, mystical beings who can see the threads of fate that tie people together, will only take appointments with adults. Eighteen or older. There aren’t a lot of them, so they travel from town to town. One actually arrived in Port Lapton about three months ago. Everyone turned out to watch the black sedan drive down main street, the windows unrolled to display the red robed figure in the back. The Thread Reader had waved in passing, the gold coins of the face veil twinkling in the sunlight.

  “It wasn’t a Thread Reader.” I drop the pieces of bread back into the bowl and brush my hands off. “The Travelers were in town, and we snuck off to see them. I know we weren’t supposed to, but my oldest brother got to go the year before, and it sounded like so much fun.”

  When the Travelers arrive in town, it becomes a week-long festival of entertainment, with dancing and storytelling. Minors are allowed to go to the events in town, but venturing out to the caravan is forbidden.

  Hamilton scoffs. “You wouldn’t be the first kids to sneak up to the camp grounds.”

  I hunch my shoulders, ashamed of my teenage self. “We snuck into one of their wagons.”

  Hamilton blinks rapidly. “That’s...”

  “Illegal,” Caira supplies helpfully. “Breaking and entering.”

  Hamilton tugs on the sleeve of my conservative, pink cardigan. “I never would have guessed you were a delinquent.”

  “She’s dressing like Mrs. Flanagan to look more respectable.” Caira tips her empty glass and frowns at the equally empty pitcher before transferring the look to me. “She’s never going to hand over the keys to the community center.”

  “She’s getting there.” I throw a piece of bread at her. “She said I did a good job today.”

  “So, tell me about the wagon,” Hamilton interrupts to steer the topic back on track. “What happened?”

  “While we were looking around, one of the Traveler kids came back. It was his home.” I lean my head against the booth, face tipped in his direction. Caira already knows the story, but she leans forward on her elbows, eager to hear it again. “He didn’t seem surprised that we were there. It was like he’d already known. And maybe he did.” I shrug, still confused by the event. The kid fuzzes in my memory, and I can’t recall his features beyond swarthy skin and a mop of dark hair. But the colorful wagon remains a vibrant image, even after so many years. “He asked if we’d come to learn The Path.”

  Hamilton twists in his seat until he fully faces me, one knee folding up onto the bench between us. His hazel eyes brighten with excitement, the gold around his pupils almost glowing. I blink and squint at him.

  The alcohol must be messing with me more than I realized.

  He waves his hand, lime green nails catching my attention. “Go on.”

  “We didn’t know what The Path was since we hadn’t studied anything about Traveler culture in school, but we went along with it because we didn’t want to get in trouble.” Bitterness rolls through me at the memory. If we hadn’t given in to Jameson’s urging to sneak into the wagon, everything would be so different right now. “The kid circled us a couple times, focusing on the air around us, then he pointed at the triplets and said ‘Your journey is short, your heart string leads to her.’ He pointed at me next. At that point, we understood what he meant by The Path.”

  “What happened after that?” Hamilton prods when I fall silent.

  I bite my lip, my nose stinging with remembered pain. The scars it left still ache, even now, the wounds ready to burst open and bleed anew. “Davin seemed excited. Hughe was always hard to read, but I think the discovery pleased him. Jameson, though… He laughed like it was some kind of joke. Said the kid was playing us.”

  Hamilton nods with sympathy. “Is it possible he was right?”

  “No.” A shiver shakes through me, and I close my eyes. “I don’t know how to explain it, but when the kid circled us, I could feel the weight of my thread like I never had before. It warmed me, like I could almost see it if I just looked hard enough.” I rub my left arm, imagining the warmth returning. “Right before he spoke, happiness filled me, like my soul knew what was coming and already rejoiced.”

  A warm hand touches me knee. “What happened after that?”

  The question launches my fuzzy memory back to that fateful night. The glittering, fake snowflakes that dangled from the gymnasium ceiling, the romantic music; a recording of violins and flutes. The overwhelming scent of over perfumed teenage bodies. The blue solstice dress I’d worn itched against my skin, my heart pounding in anticipation.

  In the week since we snuck into the Traveler’s camp, preparation for the school dance kept Jameson too busy to join us like usual. Hughe and Davin had suggested skipping the dance, too cool for the cheesiness planned by the committee. But this would be the first night I got to see the triplets all together, so I left ahead of them, too excited to put up with their disdain and knowing they would follow.

  When the doors opened and Jameson strode through, my heart beat with happiness. He brushed back his hair and wore an ill-fitting suit, but his strong, handsome figure stands out from the other students. I hurry forward, eager to meet him, before I register the girl attached to his elbow. I recognize her from earlier in the month when she transferred to our school. Now, she clings to Jameson, her bright eyes filled with adoration.

  My heart breaks as Davin and Hughe slink in behind the pair, searching the room, their expressions riddled with guilt. I realize they knew what Jameson planned in the instant their gazes meet mine.

  Hamilton leans forward, his golden eyes taking the place of the O’Brien’s guilt filled brown eyes, snapping me out of the memory.

  Sniffling, I stare at the dredges of my beer. “Jameson didn’t want me.”

  “That’s it, we need more booze.” Caira grabs the empty pitcher and climbs out of the booth to stomp over to the bar.

  Hamilton polishes off the beer left in his stein as Caira argues with my brother. “She’s a good friend. How long have you known each other?”

  Quickly, I swipe my sleeve under my nose and shake myself. I won’t break down at the pub. Forcing a smile, I turn to him. “Nine years. She’s my best friend.”

  At the bar, my brother throws his hands up and takes the pitcher from Caira, setting it on the back counter before grabbing a clean one from beneath the bar. He fills it and passes it back to her while holding up one finger and slashing his hand through the air.

  This will be our last one.

  I turn back to Hamilton. “Thank you again. You’ve been incredibly kind today, playing along with my silliness.”

  “I like to meet new people. It makes life more interesting.” He glances away, fingers plucking at the leg of his capris. “The kind of life I live, people come and go so quickly. It’s good to make connections where I can. Sometimes, we even meet again.”

  My chest tightens. It can’t be easy to always be moving around. “Like with your friend?”

  His brows pinch together in confusion for a moment before his face clears. “Oh, yes. My friend.” He pats his pockets for a moment before giving a short laugh. “I left my phone behind, since it doesn’t work here anyway. Do you know the time?”

  I push up the sleeve of my cardigan to check my watch and blink with surprise. “Almost eight o’clock.”

  “Crap, he’ll be looking for me soon.” Hamilton scrunches
lower in the booth to keep his head from showing over the top. “Hope he’s gotten over the whole car theft thing.”

  I laugh and empty my glass before raising it toward him. “Here’s to a fellow delinquent.”

  He clicks his glass against mine. “Hear, hear.”

  “What are we celebrating?” Caira demands as she thunks the full pitcher down on the table. Golden beer sloshes over the sides.

  I grin. “Rebellion.”

  “Freedom,” Hamilton says at the same time.

  Caira slides back into her side and refills Hamilton’s cups. “Then, I will celebrate libation!”

  I kick her foot. “That’s a stupid thing to celebrate.”

  She purses her lips at me, face flushed red enough to make me wonder if she snuck an extra drink at the bar. “Then, I guess you don’t need more beer.”

  I thrust my stein at her. “Here’s to libation!”

  Hamilton sips from the top of his full glass and foam sticks to his nose. He smacks his lips together in satisfaction. “Ah, this is so good. I need to do this more often.”

  Caira stacks our plates and places them at the front of the table to be removed. “I’m here most nights.”

  “Oh?” Hamilton’s eyebrows raise, and I grin. Time for payback.

  Leaning close to him, I say, “She comes to ogle my brother.”

  “Bhon!” Her face turns tomato red.

  Hamilton leans sideways out of the booth, and I catch his arm before he spills onto the floor. After a moment, he straightens with a nod. “You should tap that.”

  Caira’s mouth falls open in shock as I burst out laughing.

  “That’s Bhon’s brother!” She sounds scandalized before she mutters. “Besides, he doesn’t look at me like that.”

  Hamilton blinks with surprise. “Are you sure?”

  “I—” When her frantic gaze jumps to me, I sip my beer, happy to watch the fallout of this conversation. She glances back at Hamilton. “Do you think he might?”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing won! Seize the day!” He spreads his hands out in a broad gesture, as if to embrace the entire pub, before his gaze lands on the stage. “Oh, is there live music here?”

  “Yes!” Caira pops up to stare over the back of the booth at the dance floor and small stage. “In fact, the Conolly sisters are playing next week. On Wednesday.”

  As Hamilton and Caira talk animatedly about different types of music they enjoy, I angle myself into the corner of the booth and relax, glad to have the attention diverted away from me for the moment. Dredging up the past picks at my wounds and makes them fresh again.

  I sip on my beer, welcoming the fuzzy warmth that seeps through me. When the glass empties, I fill it again, mood brighter as my legs go numb. Bradan might very well have to lug me home. I can always stay the night on his couch.

  A cold gust reaches our booth as the pub doors open and close once more.

  “Evening, O’Brien,” my brother calls, loud enough to carry.

  I freeze, clutching the beer in my hands tighter. A hush falls over the pub as everyone strains to listen in on the conversation. This kind of gossip will flood through our small town by morning.

  “Evening, Bradan. It’s been a while.” The quiet rumble gives no hint as to which of the triplets entered. “How are you doing?”

  “Just fine.” The word comes out clipped. “And you? “

  “Still settling back in.”

  My brother sounds grudging when he asks, “Here for a pint to warm up?”

  “Ah, no, not tonight. But thank you.” Heavy work boots thud across the wooden floor, a second, lighter tread beside him. “I ran into Nicu, here, looking for where to get the best brew in town.”

  Beside me, Hamilton ducks until his head practically rests in my lap. I stare down at him in bewilderment until a calm voice speaks from above my head. “I thought I might find you here.”

  We all glance up to see a tall man peering over the edge of our booth. He directs his frown to Hamilton, who smiles sheepishly. “Hey, Nicu.”

  “Time to go back, s—” His dark eyes dart to us, and he clears his throat. “Hamilton, it’s time to return home.”

  Hamilton snorts and loops his arms around my shoulder. “No can do, Nicu. I’m here on a date with the most lovely Siobhan and her dear friend, Caira.”

  “Siobhan?” A familiar, dark head appears beside Nicu. I squint at him, recognizing Hughe. I think.

  “Have you met Hamilton and Caira?” I watch his face closely as he glances at my friend with a casual nod, and I relax. Definitely Hughe. Jameson would have more of a reaction when confronted with the girl he used to drive a wedge between us.

  Hughe’s lips twist into a scowl as he finds Hamilton and me so close. Then, his gaze drops to the table and the empty beer glasses. “How long have you been at it?”

  “Na long enough. Get ye gone.” I lift my arm as far as Hamilton’s embrace will allow and wave Hughe away. “We still ha another pint between us.”

  Across from us, Caira breaks out into a loud cackle as she points at me. “You sound like your ma when you’re drunk!”

  Hamilton jumps to my defense in an instant. “Your mom must sound lovely, then.”

  “She’s from the hills. Never lost ta accent.” I hiccup and reach for my stein, only to have it whisked away. I stare at the empty table in confusion. “It’s magic.”

  “Come on, you drunkard. I’ll walk you home.” I blink at Hughe and Nicu, who suddenly stand at the end of our table.

  Maybe, I’m more drunk than I realized.

  Nicu reaches for Hamilton’s arm and pulls the other man from the booth without protest. I hug my arms around myself, cold without Hamilton’s warmth. He sways on his feet for a moment, then leans heavily against his friend.

  Nicu nods at us. “Thank you for looking after him.”

  Hamilton points one wavering finger at me. “Remember, punch after.” His finger swings to Caira. “And you. Get that hunk behind the bar to walk you home.”

  Caira breaks into a new peal of laughter, falling over on her bench.

  Hughe ignores her and collects my coat from the hook on the booth. “Come on, Shiv. I’ll see you home safe.”

  Can't Go Back

  The cold of outside slaps the drunk right out of me. Or, at least it makes me somewhat more alert. I peek at Hughe from the corner of my eye, suspicious of his sudden appearance. “What were ye doin’ out this late?”

  His shoulders stiffen as he glances away. “Out looking for work.”

  I remember the meager postings at the community center. “No luck?”

  Red creeps up his neck from beneath his collar, either from embarrassment or anger. “People are…cautious.”

  “Yer a no good O’Brien kid, no matter how much time passed.” Annoyed on his behalf, I puff out my cheeks. “You just need to show them ye’ve changed.”

  “I’m trying.” His eyes cut to me, his face soft. ”We’re trying.”

  Caught by his stare, I stumble on the uneven cobblestones and only Hughe’s hand on my arm keeps me from tipping over completely.

  “Careful, there.” His hand slides from my arm to circle my waist, fingers firms through the wool of my jacket.

  “Shove off. I donna need ye.” Contrary to my statement, I stumble again and his arm tightens.

  “You really do sound like your mom when you’re drunk.” When I ignore the tease, gaze fixed on the sidewalk for anymore stones that want to trip me, he sighs heavily. “Do you always drink this much on dates? And bring along friends?”

  I tip my face up, eyes narrowed on him, and the city slides sideways. Determined, I keep my glare fixed on him. “Wouldna ye like ta know.”

  His head dips closer to mine, his voice lower. “Aye, I would like ta know.”

  Heat floods my face, and I look away quickly, schooling my tongue to form the words properly. “Stop making fun of me.”

  “I’m sorry.” His arm moves a little higher, palm closer to my ribca
ge, and he gently pulls me closer. “But I’m serious. I would like to take you out, find out all about your life since...”

  I wait for him to complete the sentence, and when he leaves it unfinished, the beer in my belly finds the words for him. “Since you all abandoned me?”

  His breath hitches. “That’s not what happened.”

  “That’s exactly what happened.” I wrap my arms around myself, shoulders hunching. My nose stings with cold, driving back the warmth brought on by intoxication a moment ago. “Jameson made himself clear, and you and Davin followed.”

  “He was being stupid. We were fifteen.” His gentle tone holds a hint chastisement, and my blood fizzles with anger. “You can’t still hold it against him that he took Caira to the dance instead of you.”

  “I thought you didn’t remember Caira,” I mutter.

  “I did once I saw her sitting across from you.” He pauses to pull me off to one side and let another couple pass us going the opposite direction.

  With the icy cold setting in for the night, they hurry past, knit hats pulled low over their ears and hands shoved into their pockets. Belatedly, I remember my own hat inside my jacket, and I fumble it free from the inner pocket to tug it over my frizzy curls.

  Hughe’s hand at the small of my back urges me forward once more. “I remembered her once I saw her sitting with you.”

  “Huh?” Confused, I peer up at him.

  “Caira. I recognized her as the girl Jameson took to the dance.” Cautiously, his arm inches back around my waist, and I can’t bring myself to shove him away. Having him close comforts me every bit as much as it terrifies me. “You know, Davin and I only tried to keep it from you because we knew Jameson would come around.”

  “I know, I’m not stupid.” As we turn down the next street and leave the business district behind, the streetlights become less frequent, the shadowed places between more traitorous. I glance up at Hughe once more, and when he looks down at me, shadows cover his face. “I’ve had a lot of years to think about it. I know why you and Davin tried to keep me from finding out. I can even guess why Jameson felt the need to take someone else. I’m not a hormone driven teenager anymore, angry about some school dance.”