Just Jelly Beans and Jealousy Page 5

Emily

   

  My dad doesn’t want me to go back to New York. He’s wholeheartedly opposed to it. But New York is where my heart is. It’s where Logan is. And we’re in a plane on our way there right now.

  I met Logan in the fall. He took care of me when I needed a place to stay, and I took care of him when his brother got sick with cancer. Matt needed an expensive medical treatment, and the only way to get the money was for me to suck it up and take one for the team. So, I did. I went back to California, leaving the only man I’ve ever loved in New York, and returned to my estranged family—the one I’d run away from. Matt went into treatment, paid for by my father, and Logan went on with his life.

  I have wanted to contact him so many times. But talking is difficult between us. Logan is deaf, and he communicates by writing. I have dyslexia, and reading is hard for me. So letters and phone calls are not possible for us. The Reed family is poor, and they don’t even have a computer. I considered buying them one and shipping it to them, so Logan and I could talk using sign language on Skype, but they are both poor and proud, which is a killer combination.

  It’s been almost three months since I last saw Logan. It has been just as long since I’ve talked to him. I want to look into his eyes. I need to see him. Soon.

  The pilot announces that we’ll be arriving in New York in twenty minutes over the intercom. Mom and Dad look over at me. Mom is smiling; Dad is not. Dad’s bodyguard sets his newspaper to the side and buckles his seat belt. My dad has money. Lots and lots of money. My mom spends money. Lots and lots of money. I am so glad my mom married my dad because no other man on the face of the earth could ever afford her.

  Dad owns Madison Avenue. Not the street—the upscale clothing and accessory line. It’s a popular line of really expensive items that started in California and has now spread nationwide. My parents have more money than God.

  “Are you excited, Emily?” my mother asks as the wheels touch down. I take a deep breath. I can already breathe easier just knowing I’m in the same city as him.

  I look directly into her eyes since she knows how much I love Logan, and she’s actually in favor of us being together. “More than you know.”

  “I don’t know why you feel the need to go to college, Emily,” my father barks. “You could have just gotten married and lived a life of ease and privilege.”

  Last year, my dad tried to marry me off to the son of one of his business partners. That’s why I left California with nothing and took a bus all the way to New York. I didn’t take a dime of my father’s money, and I supported myself by busking in the subways with my guitar for change. My dad doesn’t know everything about my life away from him. Like how I lived in shelters when money was tight. And how I went for days without food sometimes. He chooses to think I lived an upscale life while I was away. But I didn’t. It was hard. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything, though. Because it’s what brought me to Logan.

  God, I want to see him so badly. I want my parents to go away, too, but they want to see me settled into my new apartment. It’s around the corner from the college I’ll be attending, Julliard. I’ve always wanted to study music, and now I can. That was my mother’s doing.

  My mother smacks my father on the arm. It’s a breezy wave, but it gets his attention. “We’ve already discussed this, darling. She doesn’t want to get married. Least of all to the young Mr. Fields.”

  I snort. I wouldn’t marry that ass if he were the last man on earth.

  “Fields is a fine young man,” my father says. What’s really bad is that he believes it even though Trip is really just an opportunistic asshole who wants to climb the financial ladder, and he wants to use me as the top rung. He’ll never get over this rung, I can say that much.

  “Mmm hmm,” I hum noncommittally.

  “Fields is an ass, darling,” my mother says. She gets her purse, and we disembark the plane. The limo is waiting for us outside, and we all slide in while someone I will never see unloads the luggage.

  “He blows his nose constantly, Dad,” I say. “And he doesn’t shower after he plays basketball.” And he called me stupid in front of all his friends. But we don’t talk about that part.

  My dad’s lips twitch. “That boy has a lot of potential. Great vision. He would make a fine husband.”

  What he means is that we could combine the two families like a business deal, increasing the net worth of both. I have no interest in being richer. In fact, the happiest time in my life was when I lived with Logan and his brothers. He has four of them—two older and two younger. They live alone since their mom died and their dad left. They don’t have much, but they love one another like crazy.

  My parents love me, but it’s not the same thing. Not by a long shot.

  “You should partner with him, Dad. Because I never will,” I grouse. I can’t count the number of times in the past few months I have had this conversation.

  My dad heaves a sigh. He is a master at business, but he knows very little about relationships.

  “Do you plan to see that boy while you’re here, Emily?” my dad asks.

  Only every chance I get, if he’ll have me. “I doubt he’ll want to see me. I left him without a single word and haven’t talked to him since.” He’s probably angry at me. So angry that he has moved on. My heart lurches at the very thought of it.

  I knew that I was giving Logan up when my dad paid for his brother’s treatment, but I didn’t think it would be permanent. I look down at the tattoo on my inner forearm. My father hates it; I love it. It’s a key with Logan’s name printed down the shaft. Logan unlocked my world. He accepted and loved me exactly as I am, or at least how he thought I was. I just hope he still does.

  It’s taking forever to get to my apartment. I have to listen to my dad talk about how fit Trip would be as a husband the whole ride. My mom makes a face at me. She makes me laugh. We have a new understanding since I spilled my guts to her after coming home. I think she gets it, and she’s on my side. But that doesn’t make things any better with my father.

  “If that boy is smart, he’ll stay far, far away from you,” my father nearly snarls. He’s adamantly opposed to me being with someone so poor.

  Logan is rich in all the ways I wish I were. He’s rich in family, steeped in love and compassion, and he loves what he does for a living. Logan’s an amazing artist, and he works at his family’s tattoo parlor, putting his fabulous art on people’s skin. The last time I talked to him, he wanted to go back to college. He got a scholarship, but he had to get a deferment when Matt got sick. They took out a lot of loans to pay for Matt’s first treatment, and when Matt couldn’t work anymore, Logan quit school and took over for him.

  “If that boy has any sense at all,” Mom says, “he’s just waiting for you to come back to New York.”

  I hope that’s the case. But so much can happen in three months. Women throw themselves at Logan every day. It’s asking an awful lot for him to wait for me for three full months while I find my way back to him.

  Mom pats Dad on the knee. “How is his brother doing, darling? I know you get reports.”

  I scoot to the edge of the seat. Please tell me he’s okay. Please. I have asked him this more times that I can count, and he refuses to answer me, reminding me of the bargain we made.

  “Fine.”

  That’s all he says. Just that one word. I flop against the seat back.

  “Elaborate, please,” my mom says, smiling at my dad.

  “The treatment is working, but he’s not out of the woods. He has to have scans every month, and then they’ll start spreading them out as time goes on.”

  My heart clenches in my chest. Matt is better. My sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. Tears start to burn my eyes, and Mom reaches over to squeeze my knee. “That’s good, darling,” she says to Dad. “I’m so glad you were able to help him.”

  “I did it so she would come back home,” he says. He glares at me. “Our deal was that she would come home
, not go to Julliard.”

  Mom pats his knee again. “She did come home, darling. And now she’s going to Julliard.”

  “I just hope he stays away from her,” Dad grumbles, more to himself than to either me or Mom. We all know who he is. And he had better not stay away from me. Not for a day. Not for an hour. Not for a minute.

  We arrive at my apartment, and my dad scowls. “This is the best you could find?” He glowers at my mother.

  “It’s perfect,” I say. It’s pretty, with a small garden out front. I’m on the tenth floor, and that’s all right with me. There’s a doorman, an older gentleman, and he smiles at me, bowing to all of us as we walk into the building.

  “Ah, Mr. Madison,” he says. He knows who my dad is. He doesn’t hold out a hand, though he does take mine when I extend it. I am not better than this man, and I want him to know it. “Miss Madison,” he says, grinning at me. “Henry is my name.”

  “Mr. Henry,” I say, squeezing his hand in my grip.

  “Just Henry will do.” He looks over at my father’s scornful face.

  “Don’t make friends with the help, Emily,” my dad warns.

  Henry’s face falls.

  I wink at him. “I wouldn’t dare try to make friends with Henry,” I say. “He’s way too good for the likes of us.”

  Dad’s eyebrows draw together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Kindness trumps money, Dad,” I say. I learned that the hard way. And even though I can’t read well, I feel so much smarter than my dad right now. I bump knuckles with Henry, and he smiles at me.

  He holds up a finger and goes to a locked box beside his desk. He retrieves a key. “I’ll be sure your luggage is delivered, Miss Madison.”

  “Thank you, Henry.” I wink at him again as my family walks to the elevator. He smiles back at me with genuine kindness.

  My parents are quiet on the ride up. My dad taps his thumb on the railing, and Mom just stands quietly.

  “I don’t know why you felt the need to come here. I can settle myself in.”

  “I’m not sending you off to a strange city all by yourself.” He glares. He knows I was all alone in this city last year. “That was your choice,” he says quietly. “Not mine.”

  I step up on my tippy toes and kiss his cheek. He looks down his nose at me, which makes me grin. “I’m glad you’re here.” I just hope they don’t stay long. I want to go see Logan. It’s Friday night, and he’s probably at the club working. He’s a bouncer there.

  My dad walks around my new apartment, appraising it with a critical eye. It was rented furnished, and it’s actually really cute. It has two bedrooms, and an alarm system that Homeland Security couldn’t beat.

  I wanted to be in the dorm, but Dad felt like it was a bad idea. At least I’m close to the school.

  My mom winks at me and then turns to Dad. “Darling, I think we should get to the hotel, soon.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Already?”

  “Yes.” She doesn’t say more than that. Just yes.

  Dad heaves a sigh. Then he kisses my forehead, wrapping my head up in the crook of his hefty forearm. “We’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”

  I nod. “I’ll be here.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need anything?” He worries. Excessively.

  I need Logan. That’s all I need. I shake my head.

  My mom whispers in my ear, “Use protection, dear.”

  A grin tugs at my lips. “Yes, Mom.”

  The door closes behind them. I need a shower, and I need to find Logan. I need him like I need air.

  Logan

   

  A hand lands on my back, its fingers light and teasing as someone draws a figure eight. I look back over my shoulder and flinch inwardly when I see Trish. I take her hand in mine and pluck it from my back, then set it to the side as gently as I can.

  “Oh, Logan,” she says, her lips tipped upward with laughter. I’m really glad I can’t hear because if her laugh is anything like her, it’d be as grating as that fake smile. It’s one of those smiles without any real happiness behind it. She puts her hand on my chest, her fingers pressing insistently against me. “How long are you going to pine for that girl? There are so many other fish in the sea.”

  I can talk, but sometimes I choose not to, and people accept it from me because I’m deaf. I lost my hearing when I was almost a teenager. I tap the face of my watch and look at her, arching my brow. She’s due back on stage in two minutes.

  She heaves a sigh and tromps off in that direction.

  If I had been forced to answer her question, I would have said “forever and always.” Emily is supposed to be back in New York any day now, as spring courses are starting at Julliard. I just began my own classes at NYU, and she shouldn’t be far behind. That is, if she’s coming. I haven’t talked to her since the day she left and that was months ago.

  I have, however, seen her in the tabloids. She’s been to lunches, clubs, and social events with her ex-boyfriend, Trip Fields. The media outlets never cease talking about the way they fell apart and then came back together. But when I see them in the papers, she doesn’t look happy, not like she was when she lived with my brothers and me. I like to think it’s all a ruse. I hope to hell it’s all a ruse. My gut aches at the thought that it’s not.

  Emily sold herself back to her father in exchange for Matt’s life. He’s my brother, and he means the world to me. Matt’s alive because of her sacrifice. I’m glad she did it, but since she’s been gone, it’s like the oxygen is missing from the air I breathe. I miss her like crazy.

  I haven’t looked at another girl since she left. Not one. She’s all I think about. When girls like Trish touch me and say let’s go with their eyes, I can’t imagine anything that might make me want to go. Or remember what made me want to go in the past. All I can think about is Emily.

  I look toward the door where Ford, one of the other bouncers, is barring the entrance. Bone, our resident thug, is in the doorway and Ford knows that if he comes within five feet of me, I’ll try to kill him with my bare hands. My younger brother, Pete, is going to get himself into trouble hanging out with Bone. I caught them together talking in the street a few days ago, and I don’t like it. Bone is trouble, and I told him last week to stay the fuck away from my family. Pete doesn’t seem to understand what kind of problems Bone attracts.

  I take a step toward the doorway, but Matt is suddenly in front of me, getting between Bone and me. It’s not worth it, he signs.

  Would be to me, I reply. I’ve been trying to catch that bastard alone ever since the last time I saw him with Pete. Our little brother suddenly has a phone, and he suddenly has money in his pocket. The boy has a job, but he’s not making enough money to pay for the things he now has. And he puts every dime he legitimately earns into the family kitty to pay the bills.

  He’s scum. My hands fly wildly as I talk, drawing the attention of several people around us.

  I know, Matt replies. We’ll take care of it, but we don’t need to do it here. He looks me in the eye. You know he’s packing.

  One more reason to keep him out of here.

  Matt shakes his head. Not tonight.

  Dammit. Ford moves to the side and admits Bone when the owner of the club walks over to force the issue. He glares at Ford.

  Ford’s a good friend, and he knows how I feel about Bone. All things considered, I don’t want to put Ford into Bone’s line of fire, either, so I’m glad he let him through just for that reason.

  Bone smiles at me, looking directly into my eyes as my gaze follows him across the room. Then he slides into a booth and breaks eye contact.

  A fight begins at the front of the bar. I clap my hands together to get Matt’s attention. He’s not working tonight. He’s not strong enough for bouncing yet, but he’s here as a wingman of sorts.

  I see it, he signs. The big one is drunk.

  The big ones always fall the hardest.

  And they’re a bitc
h to pick up off the floor.

  Matt laughs. I’m so fucking glad he’s getting back to normal.

  I’ll take the little one if you’ll take the big one. He cracks his knuckles and grins at me.

  You’re such a pussy, I sign. And you can’t even claim chemo did it to you because you were a pussy before you got sick. I grin at him.

  He shrugs his shoulders and smiles unabashedly back at me. It makes me so happy to see him like this. I watched him deteriorate last fall to the point where we thought he wouldn’t pull through. He still might not, but we have hope.

  At least I can get some pussy if I try. He looks down at the crotch of my jeans. Your dick, however, is going to rot off from lack of use.

  I can’t help it if I’m a one-woman man.

  He claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. When do you think she’ll be back? I need to thank her.

  She wouldn’t want any thanks. I shrug my shoulders. I wish I knew.

  Matt points toward the fight, which is about to escalate into a full-out brawl. The little guy is dumb enough to shove the big guy. He falls into a woman behind him, and then her boyfriend starts swinging.

  Now, Matt says.

  Now. I fucking love this part of the job. It takes four of us. Matt, Ford, another bouncer, and I all jump into the fray and quickly have it under control. But the big man is on the floor with his eyes closed. He has a smile on his face. He’s murmuring something, but I can’t read his lips.

  I think he’s singing? Matt says, his eyebrows arching in question. Girl you make my speakers go boom boom?

  I laugh. People look over as noise bursts from my throat, but I don’t care. Laughter feels good. Emily taught me that. Help me get him up.

  Matt takes one arm while I take the other, and we hoist him onto his wobbly legs. His girlfriend, who is pretty unsteady herself, says, “We need a cab.”

  Matt and I haul him out to the cabstand and throw him into a taxi. The girlfriend gets in behind him. I feel bad for the cab driver who will have to throw his big ass out on the sidewalk.

  I dust my hands off. At least it’s done.

  Snow is falling on us, and I brush my hand across my hair. Suddenly, Matt tenses beside me. What? I ask.

  He smiles, claps me on the shoulder and says, Take the rest of the night off. Then he points behind me.

  I turn around and freeze. My lungs refuse to do their job, and I stand there, not breathing, not moving, trying not to feel anything. But there she is. Emily is standing on the sidewalk looking at me.

  She shifts from foot to foot, looking nervous as hell. Snow is falling on her hair, and she’s not wearing a coat. Surely she can afford a coat. Her family is worth billions. Her dark-blond hair, so unlike the black hair with the blue stripe she had when I met her, falls down to the middle of her back, and she has it tucked behind her ear. She’s not wearing clothes from around here. She’s full-on Madison Avenue right now.

  But the best thing about it is… she’s mine.

  Matt says something to her, but she doesn’t speak to him. She doesn’t break eye contact with me, and I feel like there’s an invisible tether between the two of us.

  I look at Matt to tell him I’m going wherever she goes. He grins. I guess we won’t have to worry about your dick dying from lack of use after all.

  I’ll see you later.

  I doubt it, he says. But he’s still grinning that goofy smile. I want to go and hug her, but I guess you get first dibs.

  And last dibs. And all the dibs in between.

  He waves to her and signs the word later.

  She nods, throws him a kiss with the tips of her fingers, and then starts toward me. Her boots leave footprints in the snow, and I force myself to stay still. I tuck my hands in my jeans pockets to keep from grabbing her.

  Hi, she signs.

  I can’t stand it any longer. I reach for her so quickly that she startles, but she’s reaching for me, too. I haul her against me, needing to feel her heart beating against mine.

  Her breath brushes my ear and fucking tears sting my eyes. I tuck my face into her neck and breathe in the scent that is uniquely hers. She wraps her arms around my waist, and her hands slide into my back pockets. We stand there in the snow like that until I feel dampness on my shirt. I tilt her face up to mine so I can look at her.

  “I’m so glad you’re home.” I use my voice because I don’t want to take my hands off her.

  “Me, too,” she says. A lone tear tracks down her cheek. I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb.

  “You’re back?” I ask.

  She nods, turning her head to kiss my palm.

  “For how long?”

  “Always.” She smiles. God, she can undo me with that smile.

  “Promise?” My heart is pounding in my chest.

  She nods and draws a cross over her chest. “I swear it.”

  “What about your father?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about my father right now.”

  “I’ll never survive it if you leave me again.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Can you come home with me?” she asks.

  If I take her home right now, we won’t get to talk at all because I’ll be all over her. “Let’s go get some pie,” I say instead.

  Her face falls. “You’re mad at me.”

  “I love you like crazy, girl. How could I be mad at you?” I drink her in from the curve of her lips to the way her eyes look almost black in the darkness of the night.

  She squeezes my hands. “Is Matt all right?”

  I nod. “Thanks to you, yes.”

  She exhales, and it’s like a balloon has been emptied inside her. “What do we do now?” she asks.

  “Pie,” we both say at the same time. I take her hand in mine and lead her to the diner where we had our first meal together. Pie is safe. Pie is good. Pie will buy me enough time to be sure she still loves me as much as I love her.

  Calmly, Carefully, Completely

  Book 3 in The Reed Brothers Series

  Pete

   

  Nobody fucks with you in prison when you’re all tatted up.

  Not a single, solitary soul.

  It could have something to do with being big, too. I haven’t asked. I’ve just enjoyed it.

  At home, it’s a completely different story. At home, everyone fucks with me. I am the youngest of five, all brothers. They’re all as big as me, if not bigger, and they have even more tats than I do. You don’t get any points for being adorable. At my house, all you get points for is being a good person, contributing to the household, and supporting your family in every way possible.

  It’s too bad I sucked at all the requirements. I fucked things up royally two years ago.

  I never should have done what I did. But I did it, and I did my time behind bars. I just hope that they can forgive me at home and not hold it over my head.

  A hand clapped onto my shoulder jerks me from my internal dialogue. I look up and see my pro bono attorney, Mr. Caster. “Good to see you again, son,” he says as he sits down across from me. He opens a file folder in front of him.

  “Why are you here?” I blurt out. I wince immediately, realizing how rude that sounded. But his brow just arches as he shakes his head. “I mean, it’s good to see you, sir.”

  He chuckles. “Nice to see you, too, Pete,” he says. He takes a brochure from the folder and turns it so I can read it. “I have an opportunity for you.”

  My oldest brother, Paul, says opportunities are other people’s problems. “What kind of opportunity?” I ask hesitantly. I open the brochure. There are pictures of horses and children and climbing structures and a pool with lots of splashing going on. I look up at him.

  “This is a brochure for Cast-A-Way Farms,” he says.

  “And?” I ask.

  “The opportunity,” he says. “I talked to the judge and told him you would be good for this program.” He raises his brow again. “I hope I’m not w
rong.”

  I hate to sound like a numbskull, but… “Not following, Mr. Caster.”

  “I need a few good young men to help out at the Cast-A-Way camp for five days this summer.” He starts to reload his folder and closes it. “I read your file. I liked what I saw. I think you have potential. And you have the skill set that I need for this particular camp.”

  Skill set? All I can do is ink people. I work at my brothers’ tattoo shop when I’m not behind bars. I don’t know how to do much else. “You want me to tattoo them?”

  He chuckles again. “I need your signing ability,” he admits. “We have a camp every year for special needs kids. We have a very special boy this year who has MS, so he has a tracheostomy tube. He can’t speak. He signs. His mother’s going, but she can’t be with him 24-7. So, I thought you might be able to come and help.” He shrugs. “There will also be a small group of boys there who are hearing impaired. You might work with them some, too.”

  I look at Mr. Caster’s forearms and think I see a tattoo creeping out of his short-sleeved dress shirt. He follows my gaze and shrugs.

  “You think you’re the only one who wears your heart on your sleeve, Mr. Reed?” he asks, but he’s smiling.

  I shake my head. “Your opportunity sounds interesting,” I say. “But I’m on house arrest for a year. I can only go to work and/or approved activities.”

  “I already talked to your parole officer,” he says. “He’s in favor of it.” He crosses his arms in front of him on the table and leans on his elbows. “Only if you want to, though. No one is going to force you.”

  I pick up the brochure and start to read. It actually looks kind of interesting.

  “You’d be doing me a big favor,” he says. “I need another man present who can be a good role model for the boys we’ll be taking from the juvenile detention facility. They’ll be there working, getting service hours. I need someone to help me with them. That’s why I need you.” He narrows his eyes. “You’re big and scary looking enough.” He grins. “And your file looks good.”

  “You’ll have the youth offenders at your camp? Working with the kids?”

  He shakes his head quickly. “They’ll interact some with the kids. But not much. They’ll be there more to help with the daily living tasks—feeding the horses, moving hay, stacking boxes, doing odd jobs, helping with meals…”

  I’ve never been afraid of manual labor. My brothers have drilled it into me from day one that I am going to work hard at everything I do or I’ll have to answer to them. I heave a sigh. I’m slowly talking myself into this.

  “There’s a perk,” he says. He grins.

  “Do tell,” I say. I sit back and cross my arms in front of me.

  “If your time spent at the camp goes well, I can ask for leniency with regard to your house arrest, based on merit.” He looks into my eyes. “If you earn it, that is.”

  Wow. I could get leniency? “It’s for five days?” I ask.

  He nods. “Monday through Friday.”

  I heave a sigh. “When do we leave?”

  He grins and holds out a hand for me to shake. I put my hand in his, and he grips it tightly. “We leave tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow?” I gasp. I haven’t even gone home yet. I haven’t gotten to spend any time at all with my brothers.

  He nods. “At oh-dark-thirty.” He smiles again. “You still up for it?”

  “It can really shorten my sentence?” I ask.

  He nods. “Maybe. It’s up to the judge. And depends on how things go at camp.” He sobers and looks directly into my eyes. “Pete, I think you could help with the boys I’ve invited to the camp. With all of them. You can help with the hearing-impaired boys, the ones who can’t talk, and the ones from the youth program. I think you can do brilliant things. I believe in you, Pete, and I want to give you an opportunity to prove you’re better than this.” He makes a sweeping gesture that encompasses the room.

  Better than jail? Am I better than what I have become? I am not so sure.

  “Do we have a deal?” he asks.

  I nod and stick out my hand again for him to shake. “We have a deal.”

  “Do you need for someone to pick you up in the morning?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I can get here.”

  “I’ll see you at six a.m.” He claps a hand on my shoulder and points toward the door. “I believe your family is waiting outside.”

  My heart trips a beat. It’s been so long. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like to be with them again. To feel normal.

  I nod and bite my lower lip. But I steel my spine and walk out the door. The guards lead me by the guard station and toward the door, where they give me a bag of my belongings and ask me to check it. I slide my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans. I put my watch back on my wrist. I drop my piercings into my pocket. I might be able to get at least some of them back in later.

  “Ready?” Mr. Caster asks. I don’t realize he is right beside me until I look into his eyes. Very softly he says, “Stop worrying so much. They’re the same family you left two years ago.”

  They might be, but I’m the one who’s different. I nod my head, though. I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.

  I shove against the door, pressing hard on the lock bar, pushing, and then I find myself outside the walls of the prison for the first time in two years. I take a deep breath and look up at the sky. Then I see my brothers waiting at the end of the walk and the lump in my throat grows twice the size. I blink hard, trying to squeeze back the emotion.

  Paul, my oldest brother, is standing beside Matt, who has the biggest grin on his face. His hair has grown back, and it’s gotten longer than I’ve ever seen it on him. He told me in a letter that he had decided to let it grow out now that he knows what it’s like to lose it all to cancer. He’s recovering. I missed it all because I was behind bars. But that’s one of the reasons why I was there. I thought I could help him and just ended up getting myself in trouble.

  Logan is standing with his arm draped over his girlfriend Emily’s shoulder. She looks up at him like he hung the stars and the moon. He points and smiles toward me, and she looks up and yells. Then she wiggles out of Logan’s arms and runs toward me full force. She hits me hard in the chest, her arms wrapping around my neck. I lift her off the ground and spin her around as she squeezes me. She murmurs in my ear. “I’m so glad you’re coming home,” she says. “We missed you so much.”

  I look around. Someone is missing. “Where’s Sam?” I ask. Her face falls, and she looks everywhere but at me. Sam’s my twin, but he’s not here. My gut clenches. I really hoped he would be.

  “He’s stuck at school. You know how tight school schedules can be.” She won’t look me in the face, so I know she’s lying. I put my arm around her for a second and walk toward my brothers, but it’s only a few steps before Paul jerks me away from Emily and wraps me up in a big bear hug. He squeezes me so tightly that my breath jerks out of me.

  “Let me go, you big ox,” I grunt out, but when he does, he grabs my head in his hands and runs his fingers through my prison cut. My hair’s so short it’s not much more than fuzz on the top of my head.

  Logan punches me in the arm, and I turn to look at him. Logan’s deaf, and he uses sign language. But after eight years of silence, he started to talk right before I went to prison. He signs while he speaks.

  “Somebody scalp you while you were sleeping?” he asks, pointing to his hair. It’s so strange hearing words come out of Logan’s mouth. He went so long without speaking. But Emily brings out the best in him, including his voice. “It looks like you went three rounds with a weed eater. And lost.”

  Before I can answer, he’s pulling me in for a hug. Logan’s special. He’s wicked smart, and he’s ultra talented. Emily’s his and everyone knows it. They’re meant to be together forever, and no one doubted it from the first night he brought her home with her ass tossed over his shoulder and her Betty Boop panties showing.

>   Logan lets me go, and I look at Matt. He looks so healthy he’s glowing. “Speaking of haircuts,” I say, pulling on a lock of his hair. “When do you think you might get one?”

  He cuffs me gently on the side of my head and pulls me into his shoulder. God, I have missed them.

  “We’re going to start calling you Goldilocks,” I warn. We’re all blond, and some of us are more blond than others.

  “Try it, asswipe,” he jokes as he punches my shoulder. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a good match.”

  Emily wraps her arm around my forearm and squeezes. “I think you’re bigger than when you went in,” she says.

  “Not much else to do but work out and read.” I shrug.

  “I can still take you,” Logan says. He flexes his muscles. It’s so good to hear him speak.

  Logan was injured in a car accident right after I went to jail, and he almost died. I wanted to go to him so badly. But they wouldn’t let me out. “I heard you’re an old man with a limp now.” I duck when he tries to grab my head for a noogie, and I dance away from him.

  “Nothing about me is limp,” he says with a chuckle. “Right, Emily?” he says, grinning. She punches him in the arm. He bends at the waist and tosses her over his shoulder. She squeals and beats on his butt, but he pays her no mind. He never does when they do this. He starts toward the subway so we can go home. The rest of us follow.

  Emily gives up and dangles there over Logan’s shoulder. She’s right by my face, so I lean in and kiss her on the cheek. “You all right?” she asks quietly. It’s fucking ridiculous the way she’s just bobbing there.

  “It’s good to be going home,” I admit. “Strange, but good.”

  She wraps her hands around her mouth and whispers dramatically. “We have beer at the apartment! For your birthday!”

  I grin. I spent my twenty-first birthday behind bars. But I had a feeling they wouldn’t let it pass by without some kind of celebration. “Just beer?” I whisper back playfully.

  She winks. “There might be some other stuff, too. Like wine.”

  My brothers don’t do anything more than drink occasionally. “Is there cake?” I ask.

  She nods. “Sam made it.” Sam’s the baker in the family. It’s too bad he had to play football to earn his way into college because he’d make a damn fine baker. And he’d be happier doing it.

  “So he was home this weekend?” Hearing that he was home this weekend but he’s not there now is like a knife to my gut. It fucking hurts. I can’t say I blame him, though.

  She nods, and she does that thing she does where she doesn’t look me in the face. She’d be terrible at poker because she can’t lie worth shit.

  “How long do you think he’ll avoid me?” I ask.

  Matt looks over at me, his face searching mine, but he doesn’t answer my question either.