Lucas
My phone vibrates across my desk, and I sigh heavily, knowing Cole is going to give me more excuses as to why he can’t come home yet.
This girl he’s fixated on must have one hell of a magnetic pussy because his pierced cock is well and truly attached.
For the first time in his womanizing life, he’s fucking one woman. Rage laughed when I told him Cole refused to come home because the dipshit claims to be in love. How the fuck he thinks he can be in love is beyond me. I guess I always assumed my brothers were immune to it, much like me.
Rage has a deep-seated hate toward the only girl he ever claimed to feel anything for. She broke his heart and kicked his ass to the curb a long time ago, and since that day, we gave him the nickname “Rage” based purely on his spiraling, uncontrollable anger at the mere thought of the girl.
I press the speaker button on my phone. “Are you coming home?” I snap into the empty room, causing an echo to bounce off the walls.
My muscles bunch in annoyance at his lack of concern about me or his brother. No, he fucks off over two hours away to Shitsville with no thought as to how his absence has impacted the business. Or us.
“I need help, man.” His voice is so low—almost a whisper—that it sets the hairs at the back of my neck on edge.
I sit forward in my office chair. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” My body shakes at the thought of him not being close and in danger.
“I’m fine. Shit, it’s not me.”
My shoulders sag. My concern for him breezed over as usual. It’s not him, so it must be her, of course. The girl who’s holding him back, stopping him from coming home to his family, where he belongs.
The anguish in Cole’s voice makes me put my feelings aside, because no matter what, I’ll always be here for him, like he’s always here for me.
“What do you need?”
“Tia. She’s been through some shit, man. Real shit. Trauma.”
My pulse accelerates at the sound of his voice, the word he uses to describe her problems. I know he wouldn’t use that word without good cause, and that alone escalates my need to help him and, indirectly, her too.
“What kind of . . .?” I can’t say the word, the one they used so regularly to describe my absent behavior. Emotion, a pain clawing at my chest, swells inside me, eager to get out.
Cole senses my inner struggle, as always, and he grounds me. “She has a daughter.”
My body jolts at this new information. “A daughter?”
“Yeah, but they took her away . . .”
Before he can utter another word, my own tumble from my mouth like poison. “Well, what the fuck did she do to her?”
“Do. Not. Fucking. Accuse. Her. Of. Shit, Lucas. I won’t stand for it! You hear me?”
My hands shake at the venom behind his words, my body frozen in shock. Never before has Cole sided with anyone, anyone but me. I don’t know whether to be pissed or filled with pride. Clearly, she means something to him. My heart hammers in my chest. Would he pick her over me?
“Are you listening, Lucas?”
I swallow past the lump of insecurity. “Yeah.”
“I need this to be between me and you.”
“Why?”
“Because I trust you, man.”
My heart hammers against my chest. He came to me with this because he trusts me. “Of course.” Even though he can’t see me, I nod—like an idiot.
“Okay, so she had her while in care.” Straight away, I feel for the girl because being in care is bad enough in the first place, but having a kid while there? I can understand where Cole’s need to protect her is coming from.
“Some sick fuck knocked her up.”
And just like that, my stomach flips, my body shakes, and I barely make it over to the trash can in time to empty the meager contents of my stomach up.
The room is filled with a deafening silence as I swipe my hand across my mouth.
“Lucas, are you okay?”
My body trembles uncontrollably. “Yes.” It’s a lie. He knows it. I know it. I’m not okay. I won’t ever be okay.
“I’m sorry, man, I know how hard this shit is for you.”
I pull out my pen knife, the one that helps. The wooden handle is smooth to the touch. I stroke it, calming from the security of having it in my hand. I flick the blade back and forth, back and forth.
Turning to face the desk, I stare at the phone.
“Do you think you can help?” His plea hangs heavily in the room. He knows how I feel about delving into such topics. “I just . . . I don’t know what to do. It’s more the legal side of things. They’re trying to force her to give her little girl up for adoption, Lucas. She doesn’t want that; she wants to be a mom.”
My heart aches for the girl, for Cole too. His need to protect her and do the right thing bleeds from him. He’s always the good guy, the one who wants to make things right when the world we live in is so wrong.
“Of course I’ll help. But . . .” My words hang in the air, thick with insecurity—a vulnerability—that I hate. “Can you come home?” I drop back down into my leather chair, my eyes locked on the phone, waiting for a response. Desperation oozes from me. I stroke the soft wood and wait.
“Yeah, I figured I’d bring Tia with me?” It’s a question, not a statement, and he’s awaiting my approval.
“Of course. I want to meet the girl you claim to love,” I joke with him, trying to disguise the excitement that knowing he’s coming home brings me. If it means I have to play nice and like the girl, I will. I can. For him.
“I don’t claim, Lucas. I know,” he bites back, but with a playfulness in his tone.
I smile at the phone with a newfound confidence. “Okay. Bring her back, and I’ll start looking into things. We’ll get her daughter back.”
“Oh, Lucas . . .” He pauses and makes a ruffling noise. I close my eyes and imagine him brushing a hand over his short, cropped hair, hair I long to touch. “She asked for me not to dig back too far in her life.” Cole sighs, as though he’s uncomfortable with his own words, battling an inner demon. He doesn’t want to delve deeper into her past, he wants to do the honorable thing, but he also wants to know what she wants to stay hidden, no doubt to protect her.
“I’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to be aware of,” I conclude for him, taking the decision from his hands. “Monday, bring her Monday,” I quickly spit out, almost forgetting the importance behind the date.
He exhales loudly in relief, and I almost want to chuckle at the thought of how much Cole wears his heart and expressions on his sleeve.
“Thanks, man. I’ll see you soon, brother.”
“Yeah.” I end the call, never liking to say goodbye.
My body sags with the knowledge I hold in my hands, the heavy weight of a secret I’ve been keeping for a while now. I glance toward the file spread out on my desk. Her face smiles back at me, blue eyes shining so bright they make my pulse race. Her slim yet shapely body makes my cock thicken in my pants, and the thought of my brother fucking her causes pre-cum to drip from the tip.
I trace my finger over her face and down her body. What secrets does she have hidden?
Why is there no mention of a daughter in her file?
What life has she led before she became Tia Jones, living in the care of the state?
What I do know is I won’t stop until I uncover the truth behind her and her daughter. I’ll bring them here for Cole and make us the perfect family.
A loud thud breaks my train of thought.
“Lucas, are you in there?”
“Yeah, wait a sec.” I scoop the file up and open the drawer with my key, dumping it inside and locking it away where it belongs.
For now.
Then, I press the button beneath my desk that unlocks my door.
Rage storms into the room like a goddamn hurricane, and I sigh, leaning back into my chair in annoyance.
“You have your cock out or something?”
My eyes meet his raging ones in confusion. “Huh?”
“The door.” He points toward the door. “You locked it again.”
“Oh. No.”
Rage smirks, as though he knows something I don’t.
“Cole is coming home. He’s bringing the girl with him.”
Rage’s eyes bug out. “He’s serious about her?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “He’s in love.”
Rage scoffs. “Right.” He rolls his eyes mockingly. “About fucking time he came home!” He chooses to completely ignore the fact that Cole is bringing home his girlfriend.
“He gets back Monday,” I add.
Rage muses on my words. “Mmm, I leave Sunday. Shit, I was hoping to catch up with him. I’m not going to be here for two weeks.” He sighs heavily, obviously dejected with Cole’s absence.
I nod in agreement, lowering my eyes from his face.
“Well, at least I don’t have to watch him play happy fucking families with her.” He snipes the words out coldly.
Rage hates any form of emotion toward a female. He “fucks them, then chucks them” as he once said. He finds them undeserving. According to him, all females are liars. His ex really did a number on him to the point he sees them all the same.
I decide to withhold the information that we have on her daughter joining us soon too. Knowing this will probably tip him over the fucking edge.
“A fucking female around here. Fan-fucking-tastic.” He stews as he turns on his heel and saunters back down the corridor.
“You ordering pizza, or am I?!” he shouts as he walks away. Because we’re both shit when Cole isn’t here to organize us.
“You!” I bellow back.
“Prick!”
If only he knew how true that was.
My eyes involuntarily latch on to the locked drawer.
Where secrets are hidden, set to destroy us all.
But maybe, just maybe, they can fix us all too.
