by Finn, Emilia
“Absolutely not.” He pushes away from the counter and grabs two plates and two sets of silverware. Moving around the island, he flicks the end of my hair as he passes. “Then he’ll have access to your business around the clock. Definitely don’t go there.”
I snag my glass of wine, and a fresh beer from the fridge for Nix. Following him to the table, I set them down by our plates, then sit and watch him come back with already prepped bowls of salad and a container of the beef I always crave.
Momma can cook like a professional, and Nix got that gene from her. But I… would live on baked beans if left to my own devices.
“This smells amazing.”
He chuckles and flops down into the leather chair at the head of the table. My brother is so handsome and kind, it bothers me that he’s not married and making babies yet. I don’t understand what he’s waiting for, but if I nag him about it one more time, I might be banished and never fed tacos again, so I tuck it away for another day, and start compiling my meal.
“How are you feeling, Abby? Good?”
I look up when I’m done stacking my taco, and toss my long hair back over my shoulder. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“And work?” He begins eating. “Everything chugging along there?”
“Uh-huh. I landed a big job. Jess Lenaghan is getting married in a little over a week and wants all of the best things in life. I almost lost it all today though, because my shop smelled like testosterone.”
He chuckles. “Touché. I’ll be good, I promise. But you gotta stay away, too. He gave me weird vibes.”
Probably something to do with Spence’s speech about killing people. “Have you heard from Troy?”
“Nah, but I heard from Mitch, who said he heard from someone else, who heard from Troy.” He snorts. “He’s set to get back in a month, I think.”
“He’s been gone so long.”
My oldest brother is six years older than me. Yup, my parents had five boys, one after the other, so they all share August and September birthdays. Troy is the oldest and thirty-one, and Nix is the youngest at twenty-seven. Corey, Beckett, and Mitch fill out the slots between, and make me genuinely wonder how my mother can even walk after all of that.
But a couple years later, they got me. They were so dang sure they needed a precious baby girl, they refused to stop trying until I was born and turned their world upside down.
But you know what they say about best laid plans…
Despite the fact I’m twenty-five years old and no longer in need of one-on-one care, my brothers treat me like a delicate little baby who’s mere seconds from tripping on air and falling on my face.
My mom’s grandmother was born and raised in Scotland, but though my grandmother emigrated here when she was a child, and my mother was born and raised here, every woman that comes down that side of the family comes complete with my red hair, pale skin, copious freckles, and for us special enough, every second generation is gifted with our strange eye defect.
One blue eye, one green.
My mother often complains that she ‘missed out’ and that it’s not fair. But I don’t know; as the quiet one in school, and sometimes the bullied one, I would have traded for a regular set of soft brown. It would have been one less thing to draw attention to myself when all I wanted to do was melt into the walls and become invisible. But no, girls with my hair and skin never blend in. We’re bland and forgettable for sure, but noticeable? Absolutely.
My father is of Portuguese descent, so my brothers look just as our surname suggests: olive skin, darker eyes, and dark hair. We make quite the scene when moving around as a group, and just like Spencer and Jess mistakenly guessed today, people often question us when we say we’re of the same family. Mom and I are just so… different from the guys.
“Abigail?” Nix leans forward and snaps his fingers in my face. “What are you thinking about?”
“Troy.” I give a nostalgic smile and continue eating when my stomach grumbles. “He’s always gone now. I miss him.”
“He’s working.”
“Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to miss him. He used to take me out to dinner all the time.”
“What do you call this?” Nix throws his hands up with faux anger. “I invite you over for dinner, but you sit there and think about a different brother. This is how some men must feel when their date isn’t over her ex.”
“You’re so dramatic,” I laugh. “I’m just saying, I’m glad he’s coming home soon. Where’re the rest of the guys?”
He lazily sips his beer and shrugs. “Mitch should be back soon. Beckett is out with some chick, I think.” He shakes his head when my eyes light up. “Not a forever chick, Ab. Don’t start writing their vows yet.”
“Not a forever chick? Why the heck not?”
“Because some men enjoy the ‘right now’ kinda gals.” He flashes a wolfish grin and tempts me to smack him. “Not everyone wants to marry when they’re eight years old. Some people like to just hang out and have fun. Ya know, sex and shenanigans, without the wedding bells.”
“You tease me for wanting forever, but then you tell me not to hang out with anyone except my own brothers. You have to make up your mind, Nix. Lock me up or let me out, but quit with the double standards.”
He chuckles. “You’re not a ‘right now’ kinda girl, Ab. Other girls are, the girls in the clubs and stuff… they’re a whole buncha fun. But you…” He studies my face with kind eyes. “You’re special. And if any man only asks for a night, I’ll rip his nuts out and feed them back to him for dessert.”
I purse my lips and set down my taco. The hypocrisy is astounding in this family. “I’m a forever girl, but every other female in the world is allowed to be a ‘right now’ girl. I’m not allowed to talk to anyone of the male variety, lest my brothers decide to start peeing everywhere. But if I do consider dating, he must produce an engagement ring on the first date, or his life is in danger. Am I hearing this right?”
“Ten-four, little chief.” He reaches out and chucks my chin. “You see, there are different rules for different Rosas.” He lifts his hands and laughs when I ball mine into fists. “I didn’t make the rules, Ab. I just live by them.”
Nix’s front door opens and saves him from being beaten to death. Or at the very least, saves him from a solid punch on the arm that would do absolutely nothing to teach him a lesson. Keys land in a ceramic bowl at the front door – a bowl I made when I was eleven years old – then boots hit the timber floor as our visitor kicks them off with a relieved grunt.
“You guys here?”
“At the table,” Nix calls out.
The front door is behind Nixon, but he doesn’t turn as Mitch walks through the house in socks, jeans, and a t-shirt he probably should replace soon. It’s old and ratty, missing three or four of the buttons, and the breast pocket has been torn so it hangs limp. There was no struggle or attack on my brother’s life. He just chooses to hold onto things a decade too long rather than leave the house for anything except work.
Mitchell Rosa is a certified workaholic, and because of this ugly tendency to never sleep, he’s also a grump most of the time. Despite what happened at my store today between Nix and Spence, Nix is actually the kindest, friendliest of my brothers; possibly because he’s the baby of the bunch and has the ability to horse around without responsibility. But for every step up the Rosa ladder you go, the grumpiness jumps exponentially.
Mitch is bad, Beck is worse, but nobody is as gruff or moody as Troy.
He’s such a pleasure to be around… not.
“Aw, Abby Cadabby is here.” Mitch’s surly mood lifts when he catches sight of me from across the room. What was a lazy amble turns to a trot as he rounds the table and hugs me from behind. My brother, who looks just like the rest of them, but with progressively darker green eyes, presses a noisy kiss to the top of my head, then pulls my head back so I look up at him upside down and smile. “You look beautiful, Ab.”
&
nbsp; “Aww. Thank you.”
“Better yet, you look happy.”
“I’m always happy when I get to hang with you guys.” I bring my head forward before I knot the muscles in my neck, but I take Mitch’s hand and pull him down to sit beside me. He smells like home, is rugged, handsome, and hugger extraordinaire. “I’m glad you came over.”
“Start eating long ago?”
“Nope.” I take a spare taco shell from the plate in the middle of the table and begin piling it full of ingredients. I add the extra hot sauce on top, since my brothers are weird and enjoy burning the lining of their stomachs for fun, then I set it beside mine on my plate. “You’ve been served.”
“Mmm. Thank you.” Mitch reaches forward and takes his food, only to consume half of it in one massive bite. “Jesus, I’m starving. I didn’t take a break all day.”
“Why not?” I begin picking at my dinner, and Nix does the same as Mitch and shovels his in. “It’s part of your employment contract, right? They can’t not give you a break.”
Mitch chews like a cow and shrugs. “Sometimes shit just happens, Ab. Sometimes people hurt themselves, so I don’t get a break. Sometimes people hurt other people, so I don’t get a break. And sometimes people get sick, so–”
“So you don’t get a break.” I roll my eyes. “I got it.” I reach out before he’s finished the first, and begin making a second taco. “It sucks that you chose to become an EMT. It’s a crummy job choice.”
“Crummy? I help people every day. It’s noble, dammit.”
I laugh. “Your career choice is noble, for sure. As is Nix’s, and Beck’s, and Corey’s, and Troy’s. But you all choose to deal with the horrible side of human nature. You have to help people that were often hurt through no fault of their own. Nix has to run into a burning building, often because someone bored or arrogant lit a fire in it. Wars are started that Troy has to fight, and Beck has to–”
“Which is why you choose to work with pretty flowers.” Taco breath passes my face when Mitch presses a kiss to my temple. “You get to enjoy the pretty, while the rest of us tidy up the shitty stuff.”
“Stop cussing! I swear–”
“You swear?” Mitch bounces his brows. “Abigail, since when do you swear?”
“I didn’t swear! I mean…” I sit back and blow out a breath. My heart races, which bothers me as a scarred face passes through my mind when it has no business being there. “Today was kind of eventful for me, and I’m sure just about everyone cussed like we were in the middle of a dang apocalypse. It’s just not necessary is all I’m saying.”
“What happened today?” Mitch’s eyes flicker from me to Nix. “What happened today?” he repeats.
“You know the Lenaghans, right?” Nix sips his beer. “The blondes.”
“Uh-huh. Luc is cool. Most serious guy I ever met.”
“Yeah, well, he’s got sisters, right?” Nix nods toward me, though of course I’m not the stunning blonde he speaks of. “Blonde sisters. One of them is getting married next week.”
“Right.”
“Well she was in the shop today to pick her flowers or some shit.”
“Don’t swear.”
His mocking eyes come to me for a beat. “Well that chick’s man is outta town today, so she had a different dude following her around like security. Some seven-foot motherfucker who–”
“Nixon Rosa!” I lean across the table and smack him. “There are clearly cuss word levels. Talking of feces is one thing, saying the B-word is worse, but the mother-eff word is a whole other level of rude. Quit it!”
He purses his lips and loses his patience. “This massive mother-fondler was with her on guard duty, and when he saw me with Abby, he got a little intense and demanded to know if we knew each other.”
“But you don’t know him?”
“Nah. And he isn’t a dude you’d meet and forget. More than seven feet tall, triple Ab’s width, tatted from top to bottom. But his face…”
“What?” Tomato chunks fall from Mitch’s mouth as he looks between us. “What about his face?”
“He’s all scarred up,” I offer quietly. “All up the side from here,” I touch the center of my cheek and slide my finger up and over my brow. “All the way up to here. It’s really deep, like it wasn’t a doctor cut, but something horrible happened to him.”
“Woulda bled half to death,” Nix ponders. “Wasn’t neat enough for a blade either. More like a piece of wood, a chair leg, maybe a broken bottle. Someone attacked him, but there are no stitch marks. You know the dots that stitches leave behind?”
Mitch and I both nod.
“None of that.”
“Gifted plastic surgeon?”
“Doubt it. If they were gifted, they wouldn’t have left the chunks out. I reckon he slapped some steri-strips on it and called it a day.”
“Old school drill sergeant.” Mitch almost sounds impressed. “Maybe Beck or Corey know him?” He shrugs. “Worth asking.”
“Why?”
Mitch’s eyes come to me. “Why what?”
“Why are you asking about him? He’s none of our business.”
He shrugs. “Because I can? Because I wanna. Maybe I should just ask Luc. He’ll wanna know who his sister is hanging around, anyway. If the guy is old school commando, I doubt Luc would be cool with his pregnant sister riding around with him.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure he knows, considering she wasn’t trying to hide it. She’s nine months pregnant and planning a wedding to Spencer’s colleague. You guys might be the only brothers in the world that micromanage every single choice their baby sister makes.”
“Spencer?” Mitch speaks over me. “You sound awfully cozy on that first name basis, Abby Cadabby. I sure hope you’re making good choices.”
“Ugh, stop it!” I pick up the last of my taco and shove it in my mouth. After I swallow, I swipe a napkin over my lips and toss it down. “I used his name because that’s his name. We’re not otherwise affiliated, we’re not friends. We don’t even have a business relationship. He’s just a client’s friend.” That I had the lovely pleasure of bickering with for half of the afternoon. “I’m done here.”
“Abby.” Nix grabs my wrist before I turn away. “You need to eat more. One isn’t enough.”
“I’m getting dessert and sitting down to watch a movie. With that and what I did eat, I’ve had heaps of calories. Remember that thing I said about micromanaging?”
“What movie?” Mitch looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Please don’t let it be a chick flick. Please don’t let it be a chick flick. Please don’t let it be a chick flick.”
“We’re watching My Best Friend’s Wedding.”
“No.” Mitch’s eyes shoot to Nix. “No!”
“Yes.” I tug my hand free and walk away. “It’s my choice tonight. That was the deal.”
“Nixon! Tell her.”
“I did tell her,” he grumbles. “It’s either that, or Four Weddings and A Funeral. I know which one I choose.”
“The new Fast and the Furious is out,” Mitch whines. “Can’t we watch that?”
“Nope!” I swing the freezer open and pull out the tub of ice cream. Forgoing bowls, I grab three spoons from the drawer, and his when I hip-bump it closed and the handle squarely hits my hipbone. “Frig. Frig. Frig! That hurt.”
I tuck the ice cream under one arm, and the spoons into my left hand, while I furiously rub my hip with the right to ease the sting. That’s going to bruise by tomorrow, and then the guys will have more reason to baby me.
I grab the rest of the bottle of wine on my way past the counter, then move through the dining room and past my whispering brothers. I don’t particularly want to know what they’re whispering about. It’ll be me, I have no doubt. And probably something along the lines of bubble wrap and oxygen tanks for a sensory deprivation room.
They’ll do anything to save me from myself.
I leave them sitting at the table, and flop into the center cus
hion of Nix’s long, black couch. Pulling my feet up so I’m sitting cross-legged, I reach out for the futuristic remote control, and point it at the ninety-inch monstrosity my brother calls a television.
Why watch TV unless you’re going to watch one with cinematic quality?
Secret save-our-sister talks end within minutes of me flipping to the correct channel, and I spend the rest of my night curled up on the couch between two of my strong brothers while I stuff my face with delicious ice cream.
Life could definitely be worse. We know that from experience.
5
Spence
I sit in the boardroom of Checkmate Security with my harem of women and imagine them naked and dancing in my lap.
Well, that ain’t true.
What I actually do is sit in the boardroom with Sophia, our evil genius, and Andi, our pig-toting, smart-mouthed artist extraordinaire and the love of Riley Cruz’s life. I get no actual harem, because all the women that walk through here are already taken, but still, I get to hang with them and practice not fucking every chick simply because she’s a chick.
Andi sits with her head bent over a sketchpad, while Soph does the same over a laptop. We’re at the tail end of designing a new prosthetic leg for Andi’s man, since he was taken down in the line of duty a little more than a year ago. He stood in front of Jess and Laine Lenaghan, which means he’s ours to keep, even when he’s being a grumpy prick about every little thing. When he woke in the hospital a little over a week after he was injured, he was missing a leg, but had gained a fuck ton of bad attitude that Andi has worked tirelessly to beat out of him.
She’s the perfect salve, and hopelessly devoted to her cause, even if she acts like a goofball that can never take anything seriously.
I approached Andi with my idea a month ago, after a sleepless night in my bunk. I couldn’t fall asleep, which isn’t uncommon, so I lay awake and worked a plan through my brain until the sun rose and what I had was… passable. I had the general design idea, but I needed the girls’ help to make it real.
