Shane (The Mallick Brothers Book 1)

by Jessica Gadziala

  And the rest, well, it all just seemed to fall into place.

  Maybe Fee was right about women like us. Maybe we did rebel so hard against the idea of love and relationships that we found ourselves in the middle before we realized we had even begun.

  And Shane, well, for the first time maybe in my life, I had no doubts about his feelings toward me. Like he said, he wasn’t romantic. But he showed me in his own way how much he cared.

  And that, that brutal kind of honesty, that was better than a million bouquets of flowers or good morning texts.

  “Is that a shirt for that bar we parked in?” Ryan asked, his angle allowing him to see Shane before I did.

  And, sure enough, when he moved into the room and closed the door, he had on an Inky’s shirt and a pair of pants that were slightly too big for him, hanging down low on his waist. He looked mostly clean, only a streak of red here or there if you looked really hard.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Shane shook his head. “That fucker keeps wipes in his car. Fucking baby wipes in a biker’s car. Had me wipe down before we burned my shit.”

  “So it’s handled,” Ryan said, moving toward his brother.

  “Pops will fill you in. I think you’re in 3A with Eli, but everyone is in 5A with Pops so they can get the low down,” Shane said, as Ryan stood and moved toward the door.

  “We’ll see you guys in the morning,” Ryan said, giving me a small smile before he left.

  “I see you and Ry bonded finally,” Shane said, sliding the locks for the door while reaching to remove his shirt. “He’s a hard fuck to know, but he’s good in a crisis.”

  I nodded, watching as he undressed, finding myself unusually detached where I would usually be salivating and trying like hell to not jump his bones.

  “I’m gonna hop in the shower. You want, join me in five.”

  He said it as he walked into the bathroom and half-closed the door.

  I figured the five minutes was his way of making sure he had all the blood off of him. Ross’ blood.

  I was still trying to fully wrap my head around that idea. Death was weird that way. It was hard to fully accept. Sometimes you still expected to see that person again, have them pop around a corner, call you on the phone.

  Even though those were the last things I wanted to happen where Ross was concerned, it was still taking a bit to settle in.

  “Baby,” Shane called, making my head snap in that direction, wondering how long I had been spaced out again. “Come here,” he said, but it wasn’t demanding, it was almost a question. I climbed off the bed and moved into the bathroom, mostly steamed up despite the fan being on, like he had had the water on hot enough to blister. His eyes were on me, expectant. Still a bit numb, but understanding that he wanted me close, I quickly stripped out of my clothes and climbed in the shower. The second I slid under the spray, his arms went around me, tight, reassuring, protective. He pulled me to his chest and folded his arms around my back, one across my shoulder, the other around my hips. “Talk to me,” he said into my hair.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I admitted honestly.

  “Let’s start with this,” he said, giving me a squeeze. “Are you mad at me?” My head was shaking no before he even finished. “Upset with me?” he went on and I shook my head again. “Maybe just a little freaked?” At that, I nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed and I could hear and feel him exhale hard. “Me too.”

  “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

  “Don’t,” he said, voice firm. “Don’t be sorry about anything. You didn’t make me do it. You didn’t even ask. In fact, I’m figuring you came here to stop me. This was my doing alone and I won’t have you taking any of it on. Got it?”

  I felt myself smiling against his shoulder. “I don’t care if you are a killer,” I started, trying to get to the point where we could be comfortable with the topic, even though it felt forced, “you don’t get to boss me around.”

  To that, he snorted. “I got a feeling that I am going to be the one bossed around.”

  “That’s not untrue,” I said, taking a deep breath again, surprised how good it felt, sure down to my bones that I truly hadn’t taken a proper breath since the day I met Ross.

  “So you wanna have a litter of kids with me, huh?” he asked, as I knew he would.

  “Some day, yeah,” I admitted because it felt right too.

  “All boys?” he asked.

  “I can’t have girls. Not with you as their father. They would never be allowed to date.”

  “Fuck no,” he agreed, making me smile big. I liked that. I liked that even the idea of his very fictional little girls getting hurt created such a strong reaction in him. “But I’d be happy with either. Your eyes on a little girl…” he started and I was shaking my head.

  “Your eyes,” I disagreed.

  “Don’t think we get to pick,” he said, sounding amused, his voice warm. “But we can just keep making ‘em until we get one with my eyes.” He paused for a long time, both of us lost in our thoughts, his hands moving up and down my back.

  Maybe we were still new and talk about babies was premature, but it felt right. There was no denying the fact that Shane and I had had a connection since we met. The more we interacted, the stronger it got. We knew each other before we even spoke. We were on the same wavelength. We simply… fit.

  And, well, I think I had picked enough of the wrong guys to finally recognize when I got the right one.

  He was the right one.

  I knew it down to my bones.

  “Know what?” he asked a long time later, the water starting to lose its heat.

  “No, what?” I asked, never wanting to get out.

  “I think if we’re going to have all these babies, that we should really put some work in on the practice,” he said, voice getting a little husky and I could feel his cock starting to press against my belly.

  “Hmm,” I said, hands moving between us to reach down and grab his cock, stroking it once, enjoying the groan he let out. “I think that might be a good idea. Just so, when we’re ready, we get it right.”

  I barely got a chance to scream as he somehow simultaneously shut off the water, grabbed me, and tossed me over his shoulder. And we walked like that, both sopping wet, into the next room where he tossed me down onto the bed, coming over me instantly, our wet bodies sliding against each other as our hands and mouths got hungry, rolling and wrestling for power and access to the others’ body.

  Shane ended up on top, thrusting deep, starting hard and fast and ending slower, sweeter, his mouth swallowing my moans, his hands holding mine.

  I came.

  He came.

  And he wrapped us up in the sheets, drying off as he held me.

  And there it was again.

  Comfort.

  Rightness.

  Home.

  He was home.

  Even completely across the country in a hotel room, he was where I wanted to be.

  Always.

  Epilogue

  Lea - 2 months

  It was Shane’s birthday. And, given that he said he had no real preference for a venue, I had suggested Famiglia. As soon as I mentioned the name, a wicked little smirk tugged at Shane’s lips.

  “Oh, this should be fun,” he said, shaking his head at me.

  So, me in a little black dress and Shane in a black dress shirt and slacks, we got out of our cars in the parking lot, walking up to the group already standing there. Charlie and Ryan were in full suits. Mark and Hunter were both in deep gray and dark blue dress shirts. Eli went the most casual with black slacks and a heavy camel-colored sweater. It suited him better, I felt, than a suit ever would. Helen was an ageless vision in a deep green wrap dress that showed that it didn’t matter that she had birthed five giant sons, that she still had a banging bod. Fee was, well, Fee. She looked like she had just stepped off a runway in a midnight blue pencil skirt that fit like a second skin and a tight white top. The girls were in varying colored dresses,
Becca’s already slightly stained with what looked like purple marker and Izzy’s had the unmistakable smudge of lollipop by the collar.

  We walked up toward the doors where Charlie slapped Mark on the back of the neck and barked, “Door. Manners, act like you have some,” but with a smile.

  Mark opened the door for us, snatching Izzy up as he did so.

  I could feel Shane’s smile without looking when we walked right up to the hostess stand and there she was. The eye-fucker.

  Inwardly, my common sense was yelling out: petty, petty, petty.

  But I ignored that as we walked up, drawing her attention.

  “Mallicks?” she asked, and damn if she didn’t address the question to Shane, not Charlie as would be more customary. And I’d be God damned if she didn’t lean slightly forward on the stand to make her tits spill just a little bit out of the dress as she gave Shane what I could only call a ‘come and get it, big boy’ smile.

  Shane’s hand was at my lower back, my arm touching his arm.

  There was no mistaking that we were together.

  And there she was again… all eye-fucking my man.

  And there was no other way to put it; he was mine.

  “Uh-oh,” I heard Fee said and when I looked over, Helen was nodding her head at me.

  It was all the encouragement I needed.

  “Hey. Hi, yeah,” I said when her eyes slid to me. “I’m the one who fucks him. There’s no room for you in our bed. And, hell, even if I were into girls and we wanted to spice it up with a threesome, I really wouldn’t be into your slutty, desperate vibe,” I said, watching as her eyes went hard. “There are three single, equally as good looking men in this party and you go out of your way to eye-fuck my man? Are you really that insecure? Babe,” I said, addressing Shane who looked amused.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you want to fuck her?”

  He snorted at that, pressing his lips together. “Nah, babe.”

  “See?” I said to the hostess as I plastered myself against Shane who was all too happy to wrap me up. “Now that that’s all settled, yes, we’re the Mallicks. Table for twelve with two highchairs.”

  Shane’s arm tightened when I called myself a Mallick and it made my heart do a weird squeezing thing in my chest.

  So then we were led to our table and had a nice dinner.

  And every God damn time we stepped foot in that restaurant from that point on, that hostess made sure her eyes didn’t linger more than a second or two.

  Shane- 5 months

  The top floor was done. I’d been working on it for weeks at night when Lea was at work, doing her fake moaning thing. Every night as soon as she left, my brothers and Pops showed up and we all went up and got the work done. The top floor had never really had a plan before, that was why I had always just left it as it was. I didn’t need more than what I had.

  But when Lea said she wanted to have my kids some day, yeah, it got me working. I knew it was a while off and I knew that most normal people wouldn’t insist on living in a warehouse when they decided to have a family. But I wasn’t normal and because she chose to be with me, neither was she. The warehouse was safe from both weather and breaching. It would be even safer once we finally finished the lower floor as well. But the exterminator was having a sweet fucking time raking me over the coals as he trapped and relocated the fucking rats.

  The top floor had been mapped out and made into a master bed and bath with three smaller bedrooms and a hall bath that they shared.

  I figured three bedrooms was plenty, no matter how many kids we decided to have.

  “So you got a living space and you got a storage space and you got a bed space,” Mark said, wiping his brow after finishing the coat of paint in one of the bedrooms, doing so in a grayish-blue Fee had picked out because she said it would work for either sex when we eventually did have a kid. “So what are you going to use the bottom floor for?”

  “If you’re smart,” Hunter broke in, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, “you’ll just leave it as an open space to eventually store toys.”

  “An entire floor for…” Mark started to object.

  Hunt cut him off, giving me an intense look. “Trust me. Toy storage. Indoor bike riding space when the weather is shitty. Whatever it takes to keep them busy and away from TV screens. Especially if you end up having a bunch of boys as shit-starting as we all were.”

  “How far back does this plot of land go?” Pops asked, trying to scrub some paint off his hands with a rag, only spreading it out.

  I shrugged, shaking my head. “I think I have about an acre back.”

  “The weather is warming up, we should think about starting to break up the concrete and plant some grass. You’re gonna need at least a small yard, you know.”

  I felt my lips curl upward at that, shaking my head in a bit of disbelief.

  “What?” Eli asked, watching me.

  “What fucking world is this?” I asked.

  I never gave much thought to settling down. I had always known I wanted kids one day, wanted to continue the family name, wanted to pass on some of the things my parents had given me. But I had always been too busy living life, fucking around, believing I had all the time in the world, figuring I would get around to it eventually.

  Then there was Lea.

  Fuckin’ crazy how a woman could change everything just by existing.

  “Shit,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. “Now he’s gonna be telling the rest of us how we need to find ourselves some women and settle down and have kids too.”

  “Been telling you boys that for years,” Pops said, pushing into Mark’s shoulder. “But only if you find the right girls.”

  “You mean batshit crazy and uncontrollable like Fee and Lea?” Mark asked, lips twitching.

  “And let’s not forget your mother,” Pops added, making everyone agree.

  “So are you ever going to tell Lea that you did this?” Eli asked, gesturing around.

  “Sure,” I said with a nod, “once I get her to agree to marry me.”

  Lea- 8 months

  The building was nothing to write home about. It looked like any of the other buildings in the industrial part of town, sturdily built way back when the economy had been booming and the buildings had been places of industry. It was three stories, all some kind of dark stone that I knew fuck-all about such things to recognize. The donations had allowed for the windows to all get repaired and a big fence to be built around the back where a bunch of plastic, outdoor kid toys were all set up. There was no sign out front, a security measure, the people who ran the place had insisted. There was a small gold plaque on the front with the address and that was it.

  But it was the finished Navesink Bank Women’s Shelter.

  And I was standing out front, like I did every single Wednesday for the past month.

  It was all Shane’s idea really.

  At first, he had always kind-of found my sleeping abuse of him somewhat amusing. That was until he had heard me cry out Ross’ name while I was kicking off him one night. Then the worry set in.

  I never remembered my dreams, not since I was a kid. So, to me, it wasn’t a big deal if I was maybe having some nightmares. But to Shane, it was a big deal. He said it obviously meant I was repressing the trauma and that my subconscious mind was trying to work through the issues that I wouldn’t allow my conscious mind to do. Or some other therapist mumbo-jumbo like that.

  I kinda laughed it off, played it down, changed the subject. Or, when he was in a particularly unrelenting mood, used some naked distraction to change the subject.

  But he wouldn’t let it drop.

  And I was tired of hearing Ross’ name.

  So, in an effort to placate him and remove whatever wedge the issue was creating between us, I had agreed to his plan. That meant I was to give counseling a try. Luckily for me, the shelter held it three times a week.

  I chose Wednesdays for multiple reasons. One, Helen and Fee
were known to help out in the daycare center on Mondays. Two, thanks to some raking over the coals the contractors had done during the remodel, the funds they had to pay rent dried up and the building almost hit the market again. Until Charlie and Helen convinced Ryan to invest, telling him it was a good write-off, it gave the family an even better name in the community. So, yeah, Ryan owned the building. And that meant he was there a lot of the time checking on things. But not on Wednesdays because he had a standing workout thing with Shane and Mark.

  That brought me to the shelter.

  Really, I didn’t like it.

  I knew I wasn’t supposed to say that.

  I was supposed to say that therapy was the best thing that ever happened to me, that I felt so much better when I talked about it, that I was healing and getting closure or some shit like that.

  But I didn’t feel that way.

  Every time I walked into the main floor, beautifully decorated with Fee’s old living room stuff, and got my visitor badge from the front desk where a pretty receptionist stood with a security guard stationed behind her, then walked down the hall to the therapy room where we all literally sat in a circle in mismatched, but comfortable armchairs, I felt like I didn’t belong there.

  Logically, that made no sense.

  I had been through things that most of the others had.

  I had felt the need to run away like the rest of them.

  But I didn’t feel the need to talk about the issue to death. It happened. It sucked. But I survived. I got away. I built a beautiful new life.

  Maybe that was it.

  I wasn’t still in the stage most of the women in the shelter were, the on-the-run stage, the what-if-he-finds-me stage, the how-can-I-move-on-from-this stage, the how-can-I-ever-trust-myself-or-a-man-again stage. I wasn’t running. Ross could never find me, being dead and all. I moved on. And I learned there was nothing wrong with my judgement when it came to men. And by learning that, knowing I could trust myself, I slowly but surely learned to trust a man again. Actually, maybe for the first time.