The Better Man (Allen Brothers Series Book 2)

by Barbie Bohrman

  I like you too.

  “Porqué estás despierta tan temprano en tu día libre, mija?”

  With my back to my grandmother, I answered her. “I’m up this early on my day off because I wanted to make us all breakfast so we could eat together like a big happy family.”

  Technically, it wasn’t that early. It had to be almost seven-thirty in the morning. But, on a rare day off, I never really slept in anyway. I was so use to waking up at the ass-crack of dawn that sleeping in made me feel guilty and a little like a degenerate. Honestly, it kind of sucked. Because I would love it if my inner alarm clock would let me sleep in for once.

  On this Saturday morning, my one day off this week, I was up and at ‘em at five thirty in the morning. Trust me, I wanted to kick my own ass. For the first half hour I tossed and turned trying to force myself back to sleep. I’m positive my constant thinking about Max wasn’t helping me one bit either. Because I fell asleep picturing that gorgeous face of his and then woke up after having an extremely vivid dream about that same face in-between my legs bringing me to the brink like he promised he would on the elevator yesterday. So when my stupid and annoying as hell inner alarm clock woke me up this morning, I tried as much as possible to go back to sleep. I really did. When it didn’t come, I gave up and got dressed, ran over to the bodega that was already open down the block from our apartment building and then started cooking.

  “Daphne, I’m fine just having my usual cafécito,” she said and shuffled over to where I was beating a bunch of eggs into submission. She looked around the kitchen counter and saw how far in to the breakfast prep I’d already gone. “But since you’ve done all of this work already, I can’t wait to eat it. Thank you, mi niña. Should I go wake up your brother?”

  “No, no, abuela, sit down and relax. I’ll go and wake him up.”

  After she took a seat at the card table—AKA our dining table—I looked over my shoulder towards the narrow hallway and yelled, “Eddie, get up and out here for breakfast!”

  “Niña, I could have done that myself,” my grandmother said laughing. “But your way works too.”

  We both heard Eddie moving around and the door to his bedroom open. “Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you?! Why the hell are we up this early on a Saturday?!”

  “I made us all breakfast. Get over here already so we can start eating.”

  “What if I’m not hungry? Not all of us like to eat this early, you know.”

  Calmly, I plated the scrambled eggs from the pan and walked it over to the table. Putting my hands on my hips, I took a calming breath and thought to myself: Give me the strength to accept the things I can’t change and that I don’t kill my baby brother this morning. I looked down the hallway again to Eddie still standing at the door to his bedroom. It was as if the little jerk wanted to pick a fight with me. But not today, uh-uh. I was not about to let him and his teenage attitude ruin my day.

  “I made you your favorite,” I said with an extra sugary-smile. “Blueberry pancakes, with fresh blueberries that I bought at the bodega this morning. Not that frozen crap you sprinkle on your frozen waffles.”

  That got his attention, because not two seconds later, Eddie was sprinting down the hallway and in his seat waiting to be served. Our grandmother was trying her best not to laugh at him but once she started, I was laughing, too.

  “What? Can’t a man enjoy his blueberry pancakes in peace and quiet around here?” he asked, already grabbing a forkful off the top of the stack I had made.

  “Sure, as soon an actual grown man shows up to eat with us,” I told him.

  We all started to laugh. And as corny as it was, I loved seeing my grandmother and my brother so happy. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time we had all sat down to share a meal together where Eddie and I weren’t at each other’s throats. There was something about food that brought people closer together. It was a well-known scientific fact…I think. And if it wasn’t, well then it should be. Because my blueberry pancakes were that good. And paired with heated maple syrup, they were to die for.

  “Gracias for making all of this, Daphne. It’s delicious, mi niña.”

  “You’re welcome, abuela.” I stared hard at my baby brother waiting. “A thank you won’t kill you, you know?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Thank you, oh perfect one.”

  “You’re welcome, too, you brat,” I said jokingly. “What’s going on with you? I haven’t been around too much lately because of work…and today’s my only day off for the next few days and nights.”

  Eddie was about to answer but my grandmother sighed a little too loudly. “You’re working too much, mija.”

  “I’m fine, abuela. I swear.” Smiling, I reached over and lightly patted the back of her hand. It never ceased to amaze me how soft her skin was even with the amount of wrinkles she had at this point in her life. I already knew if I asked her what lotion she used she would outright scoff at me and tell me it was all thanks to her Cuban genes. Looking over to my brother again, I asked, “You were about to tell me something?”

  “There’s nothing new really. School is almost done. Graduation is in a few weeks. Same old shit basically,” he said. My grandmother’s hand was up and smacking the back of his head lightly in record time. “Ouch! How come she gets to curse and I don’t?”

  “First of all, Eduardo, your sister is a grown woman who works her butt off. Second, stop worrying about what’s fair between the two of you. You’re two different people with two different paths in this life. Worry about yourself for a change.” She took a forkful of scrambled eggs and once she had swallowed it, she grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “And last but not least, I still give Daphne a little smack if she curses too much or takes the Lord’s name in vain.”

  We kept up a simple and easygoing conversation throughout the rest of the breakfast. When it came time to clean up, Eddie and I didn’t waste time telling our grandmother to stay seated while we got busy. After all the dishes were washed and we were taking turns drying them by hand, I could tell Eddie was dying to tell us something. I figured it out fairly easy because he kept doing that twitchy thing he always did with his nose like he was Tabitha from Bewitched whenever he was trying to get our attention.

  “Spit it out, Eddie,” I told him. “You’re making me antsy and that’s saying something.”

  He still hesitated and looked almost shy. Now I was really dying to know what was brewing. “Well, I got offered a job and I’m gonna take it.”

  “A job? But you’re still going to school. I thought we had all agreed that you wouldn’t worry about any of that until after graduation. Even then, I was hoping that you’d just keep concentrating on your school because you know that first year of college is tough. And—”

  “Oh my God, would you calm down! You are not the boss of me and if I want a job, I’m gonna get a job!” Eddie tossed the dishtowel on the counter in frustration. “Joey says I can start working with him soon. It’s really good money and we need that more than we need a college degree around here.”

  He dropped that little bomb and then started walking back to his bedroom. I snuck a glance to our poor grandmother who was silently watching this disaster unfold. My heart hurt for her. Because she looked as confused as I felt by his announcement. That delinquent Joey and his “job” offer was the worst development I could have ever imagined. Because I guarantee that whatever job was being offered wasn’t on the up and up.

  “Hey! Wait a minute! We’re not done talking about this, Eddie!”

  My brother didn’t even bother turning around when he answered me. “That’s what you don’t get, Daphne! We are done talking about this! I’m almost eighteen and I can make decisions that involve my life all on my own! I need the money so I can eventually go to college. I don’t need you working for me and making me feel guilty about how much you have to work all the time! I’m sick of it!”

  Bang! The slamming of his bedroom door was so loud and so strong, that the en
tire apartment shook with the force of it. And then I could hear the broom banging from our downstairs neighbor letting us know we were being too loud. Ignoring my neighbors, I made the march down the hallway to try to talk some sense into my little brother. It had all gone to shit so fast that my head was spinning.

  Eddie had never been this difficult with anything or anyone. Sure, he was technically a teenager and that alone had to be a pain in the ass. I totally got that. We had all been like that once or twice. But that didn’t give him the right to throw his life down the fucking toilet because of the wannabe gangster around the way.

  Hell to the no.

  “Mija, leave him alone,” my grandmother said in such a solemn voice that I stopped in my tracks. I walked back to the table feeling defeated and sunk back down in my chair. “Mi niña, he’s going to find out on his own about that boy Joey. Let him. And when he does, we’ll be here for him because that’s what family does. La sangre es más espesa que el agua. Because blood is always thicker than water. Mark my words.”

  Lifting my eyes to meet hers, she reached across the table and took my hand in hers. “It will be okay, Daphne. We will be okay. Stop your worrying, por favor. Please, for me.”

  I might have let it go for the moment, but in my head, I was anything but letting it go. I wasn’t Elsa and this wasn’t a goddamn Disney movie. But for the sake of my grandmother and my sanity, I smiled politely as an answer to her request. When my grandmother wasn’t around later on today, or tomorrow, I’d make sure to have a nice long talk with Eddie. Because there was no way he was going to work for that mojon Joey instead of going to college.

  Over my dead body.

  I loved my best friend Derek so much.

  He was the best at cheering me up and cracking me up. Like today, when I stopped by the coffeehouse to chat after my run in the park, he saw that I was in a crappy mood thanks to Eddie and decided to bring up something, or rather, someone else instead. That wasn’t much of a surprise seeing as how Derek was obsessed with Max more than Max himself, which was really saying something. So of course when I spilled the beans on what had been happening between us—because naturally I was going to tell him everything like any good best friend would—he picked his jaw up off the floor first. Then, he grinned like an idiot while doing a really, really bad attempt at the running man dance behind the counter of the coffeehouse.

  “Would you cut it out?” I asked between my laughing fit. “You look like a Soul Train reject right now. And what if a customer comes in?”

  Derek moved on to the cabbage patch dance. Again, it wasn’t looking so good. Dancing was not his strong suit whatsoever.

  “Shut it! I’m trying to get my groove on in your honor!” After a few more not so smooth dance moves, Derek was panting like a dog that had been running around in circles. He planted his hands on the counter in defeat. “Okay, yeah, that’s enough because I’m so out of shape it’s not even funny.” He took a few more breaths and wiped his brown. “So, tell me more. When are you seeing Max again?”

  “Tomorrow night. We’re scouting a club down on Houston Street. It’s been around for a while but it’s supposedly having a resurgence.”

  Derek rolled his eyes and laughed. “A resurgence? Like Limelight tried to have resurgence? Girl, don’t even get me started on that place. I’m still bitter I paid twenty bucks to get in there years ago, only to walk right the fuck out because it was as empty as my soul.”

  “You’re not empty inside. You’re just…”

  “I’m what, exactly?” he asked batting his eyelashes at me. “Dazzling, sexy, strikingly handsome, wistful—”

  “Wistful?! How are you wistful?!” I was laughing so hard that I had tears in my eyes. “Do you even know what that means?”

  “Oh, hush, Miss Smarty-pants. It sounded much better in my head.” Derek had come around the counter and handed me a freshly poured cup of coffee. “Anyway,” he said, drawing it out and wanting to change the subject back to his favorite topic. “Tell me…how does Max’s dick measure up? Is the head bulbous like too much mushroom cloud going on the top? Ooh, I know! I bet he’s sooo big that he has to tuck that thing next to his leg like that Don Draper hottie does, right? I bet I’m right. Please tell me I’m right. I want to believe the truth is out there.”

  “The truth about what? That Don Draper’s dick is as big as a UFO? How the hell would I know? Derek, I never thought I’d be saying this but I think you have way too much dick on the brain!”

  He crossed himself. “From your lips to God’s ears. I’m living vicariously through you, so drop your hang-ups and start spilling,” he said and took a sip of his tea.

  “First of all, I didn’t technically touch his penis with my hands.”

  Derek’s mouth formed a perfect “O” shape in surprise. He was about to start up again with what I could only imagine was some kind of commentary about dicks in general, but I held my finger up to keep him from talking. He gave me a knowing smile and let me finish instead.

  “Secondly, if I had touched him there, I wouldn’t be blabbing to you about how big or how small size it is.” I tipped back my coffee mug for a little sip, keeping eyes trained on Derek over the rim. “But I will tell you that it felt like it was just right.”

  Derek’s hand was up in the air for a high-five, which I slapped as he said, “Damn straight it’s just right, Goldilocks! My Max is perfect in every single way.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “You love it and me.” He was smiling because he knew that I couldn’t stay mad at him…even play-mad at him for too long. “Okay so obviously you guys have been talking and getting to know each other and—”

  “Actually, we don’t really talk too much outside of work.”

  “What do you mean, ‘we don’t really talk too much?’ That can’t be right. Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure, you spaz.” I gently pushed at his shoulder. “Now that I’m thinking about it, I haven’t spoken to him since I left the office yesterday.”

  “Well, that’s probably because you’re still in an orgasm daze. Somewhat understandable. But still.” He tsked and then sighed out loud before reluctantly setting down his mug of tea. And with a look that screamed he was so over Max’s nonsense, and mine, he held his hand out to me. “We’re going to have to remedy this immediately. And thank God for you, yours truly is here to save the day. Gimme your phone, woman.”

  “What? No, no way. You’re going to start sexting him and then what will that get me?”

  “It will get you laid for starters, which you sorely need. But, whatever. That’s not what I was going to do.” Derek’s hand was still outstretched between us. “Come on, don’t be a scaredy cat, Daphne. Trust me.”

  It wasn’t that I was scared of Derek’s skills to talk the talk, so to speak. Honestly, I wasn’t scared at all of “talking” to Max. You know, a normal intelligent conversation that grown-ups had when they weren’t trying to kill each other or drive each other crazy like we ended up doing almost all of the time. Or we ended up doing what we did in the elevator last night and in the bathroom the night before that. It was quickly becoming a vicious cycle. Well, not really vicious because I was enjoying myself quite a bit. What woman wouldn’t?

  No, it was more that I was afraid about how much I liked Max. And “like” was such a stupid word to cover a broad spectrum of what I was feeling. After I sent that response to him last night, I knew I was lying a little bit to him and to myself. Since I liked Max so much at this point it was starting to freak me out. Knowing that I hadn’t felt this way in so long for any man, I had resigned myself into believing it simply wasn’t in the cards for me. Because this feeling I was experiencing was so much more than like; it was more than physical attraction, and it was definitely more than friends.

  It was shaping up to be everything.

  I could feel it in my bones. And I could tell how much it would hurt me if Max didn’t feel the same way. Without a doubt, he would be one of
those epic heartbreaks that years later you would still be thinking, “what if?” while holding onto your chest as if it had just happened all over again.

  “Daph, why do you look like someone stole your dog? It’s just a text. One little ol’ text.” Derek wiggled his fingers on the table between us and had a gleam in his eye that I don’t know how to explain, but it made me feel like throwing my sensibilities out the freaking window right then and there. A part of me spoke up inside my head and yelled, just do it!

  So I did.

  When I slapped my cellphone in his hand, Derek took all of a half-second—if that—to unlock my phone and then access Max’s text thread. Then he was typing away at the speed of light. I was too impressed with his texting speed to even think twice about my decision to let go and let Derek do this thing.

  Derek went back to sipping his tea as if he hadn’t just potentially thrown a monkey wrench into my I-don’t-even-think-I-can-call-it-a-relationship-type-situation with Max. But, much to my surprise and horror, my cell did the telltale buzz-buzz signaling an incoming text. We both looked down at the same time to see the flash of Max’s name across my screen. Like clockwork, there were those damn butterflies again taking up residence in the pit of my stomach to match the flash of heat I felt all over my body at the sight of his name.