Survivor (First to Fight #2)(16)

By the time we reach Mom’s house, I’ve resolved to ignore Livvie’s advice. Clearly, I’m not cut out for this caretaker gig.

Donnie’s easy smile is gone and the sugar high has reached the crash stage on Rafe’s part. As they skulk back to the house, a fluttering sound draws my attention to the porch, and then to the front door where a piece of white paper is stuck between the screen door and the frame.

It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up. My fingers adhere to the door handle and my insides turn to ice.

The boys wait on the porch, turned to me, identical eyebrows raised. They look so small, dwarfed by the extravagant lines of the porch. I have the most ridiculous urge to get them, shove them, just, take them away. Anything to keep them from being tainted by this place and my own mistakes.

Swallowing down the bitter mix of fear and bile, I step out of the car on shaky knees. I clear my throat, my eyes burning, and slowly walk toward the steps.

“You okay?” Donnie asks, peering at me with furrowed brows.

I ruffle his hair, his sweet face distracting me from my panic. “I’m fine. Thanks. Let’s get you guys inside.”

The paper is innocuous, really. To anyone else, it would seem to be an advertisement. Maybe one of those church group info cards, but I know better.

Boy, do I know better.

I get them inside and to their rooms without much protest. No doubt the past few days have worn them out. While the house grows quiet around me, I retreat to the office, where I’ve made a camp of sorts. Nothing could have made me take my old room, and I couldn’t very well take my mom’s. The mere thought gives me goosebumps.

I turn the lamp on and boot up my computer, thinking maybe I’ll get some work done to take my mind off things. In reality all I do is stare at the screen, contemplating the piece of paper waiting on the corner of the desk.

When I do, I know it will open every single thing I’ve been running from. The solid life I’ve built for myself, the careful distance I’ve cultivated between me and everyone else, it’ll all evaporate.

Then again, I’m rarely able to resist temptation.

But isn’t this what I was hoping for when I came back? Didn’t I want to face the demons that drove me away.

I rip open the piece of clear tape.





Nassau is a small town. Small enough that minor events make waves.

Sofie Varano’s return has the potential to wipe out small civilizations.

“Have you made a move yet?” Ben asks. He hisses out a breath as he tries to max out his bench weight at 315 lbs.

I frown at the line of questioning, already tempted to let the bar slip just a little to crush his windpipe so we don’t have to have this conversation. Not a lot, just enough so that he can’t talk about it anymore.

Ever.

I swear he’s more of a gossip than my sister.

“She’s got her hands full with the boys,” I say instead, steadily guiding the bar with three Cadillac forty-fives on either side up in a smooth motion. “It’s not like this is a social call.”

“I bet you’d like for it to be a social call.” Ben eases the bar back down. The bastard. I pray for muscle failure. “Livvie says she thinks it’s good for her, being back with the boys and all.”

I grunt in response. Just hearing about her, talking about her, like this feels a little too normal, a little too much like old times. Times I’ve tried to put behind me. Hard to do when every neighbor, cashier, and former friend insists on bringing it up.

“She thinks you two are destined to get back together now that she’s back for good.” He lifts the bar again and I concentrate on steadying the weight. Or at least, I try to. Damned if I want to admit that I’m all too interested in the possibility myself.

“The only reason she came back is for her brothers. She and I have nothing to do with it.”

“Then why are you going over there to help out with the house? Why not just let her fall on her ass like you and I both know you want to?” Ben asks.

My mind goes to those boys and the promises I’ve made. To their hopeful, expectant faces when I promised I wouldn’t abandon them right away. “Because her house is a health hazard,” I reply. “And I promised Donnie and Rafe.” I guide the weights to the stand and Ben sits up, wincing and rolling his shoulders. “Now are we gonna go a couple rounds in the ring or do you want to keep f*cking talking like a couple of chicks?”

“No need to get your panties in a wad,” Ben says grinning.

“Asshole,” I spit out.

He throws an arm around my shoulders. “You know you love me.”

“You and your wife think that means I won’t kick your ass.”

Ben just smirks. “I’ve got an hour or so before Liv will be back from the doctor’s. First one to tap owes the other a beer.”

I grin back at him, blood heating and muscles turning loose. Maybe a couple hits to the head will knock some sense into me. “You’re on.”

Later, we thump to the mat. My muscles ache, I’m covered in sweat and I think he may have broken my nose. “We should do this more often,” I tell him when I’m able to catch my breath.

Ben laughs through his own heavy exhalations. “I think we’ll call it a tie,” he says.

“Oh my,” comes a familiar voice. “Looks like Daddy and Uncle Jack are wrestling again.”