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I turn around to face him. “What do you mean?”
He rubs his hand between Trouble’s ears. The dog settles his head on Braxton’s thigh while batting his stubby tail against the leather upholstery. “When I came back,” says Braxton, “I was grateful to have Trouble by my side, because I didn’t think I had anything else. Max had moved onto the Enforcers while I stayed in the military. Eight long years was enough to fuck me up good so that when I left I felt like I’d never get out of that mindset. Checking corners, assessing threats, viewing the world through the lens of the mission.” I could relate to that. “But Trouble gave me something to take care of, to focus on. To build a relationship with. This pooch was my way of finding myself again, underneath all the training.”
“You could always count on me, Braxton,” says Max. I notice his fist gripping the wheel tighter, uncomfortable about his failings as a brother.
Max would always be there for his brother. I know that. Braxton knows that. But the world looks different through eyes filled with pain, something Max can’t understand the same way we can.
Glancing at Braxton, I wonder how Braxton will handle this tactfully. I’m pretty sure nothing hurts Max more than the knowledge that he can’t protect everyone he loves. Likely because he couldn’t stop his parents from being murdered when he was a child.
We all have so many wounds, so much baggage we carry, weighing us down, slowing us from healing. I know we'll never be entirely free of it, but we're learning to live with it, with one another.
“I know that now,” Braxton reassures him after a quiet moment. Max’s hand loosens, and his eyes move up to the rearview where they connect with Braxton. “And I guess that’s what I’m saying. Like Asha, I’ve learned to let go of my past. To accept the gifts of the present.” He reaches into the front seat and squeezes his brother’s shoulder.
It’s a rare show of tenderness from Braxton that touches my heart. “I wish I could kiss you right now,” I say, my heart overflowing with care for this man.
Braxton unbuckles himself and leans forward between the two front seats, barely managing to fit his heft between the seats. I laugh while he struggles to present his lips to me. How can such a big, tough man make me smile like this?
“I think that’s about as close as I can manage,” he says, grinning.
“I think I can work with that.” Leaning forward, I kiss him, breathing him into me.
When we part, I hold his face in my hands, and he doesn’t move away, no matter how uncomfortable he might be right now, squeezing between the seats. We gaze into each other’s eyes, admiring the patched souls behind them. This man, he’s mine, and I’m glad he’s mine.
“I suppose I might as well admit I share in that sentiment, as well,” says Orson.
Braxton falls back into his seat, his attention moving to the other man. “Yeah?”
Orson looks reluctant to say anything for a painfully long moment before he gives a little shrug. “For so long, I’ve felt alone. I more or less came to accept that I’d be a wolf without a pack for the rest of my life. When the opportunity arose to escape jail and join the Enforcers, I didn’t think it would be anything more than my ticket to fresh air.” He runs his hand along Trouble’s golden coat, as though the dog is some sort of totem for our four-way relationship. Our unofficial mascot. “The time I’ve spent in your company, however, has proven my pessimism wrong.”
“You, a pessimist?” I say.
He cracks a grin. “What, you’ve never met a cheery pessimist before?”
“Orson, in so many ways you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Seconded,” says Braxton.
“Yep,” Max agrees, actually cracking a small smile.
“You guys,” says Orson, grabbing each twin by their shoulder and giving them a fraternal shake. “That we’ve all been able to share Asha is a true blessing. I feel like I’ve been inducted into a new pack.”
I flick my eyes between the two brothers, scanning for their response. Have they fully accepted Orson yet? The tension releases when Braxton looks at each one of us before saying, “A pack ought to have a name.”
If Braxton was in my reach, I’d kiss him again. That tough-looking outer shell of his is like one of those rocks that you cut into, and it actually ends up being a piece of cake. He’s all squishy and soft on the inside. And Orson is someone who really needs some squishy friends right now.
Plus, I could use a pack. It’s not like I’ll ever give up on my childhood pack, but I don’t have to be alone until I find them. And there’s nothing that says that Max, Braxton, and Orson can’t be in my pack too.
“You’re right. We need a name,” Max says. “What’ve we got?”
We all lapse into thoughtful silence. Then Braxton offers, “The Asha Fan Club.”
The SUV fills with laughter. “Asha and the Three Mutts,” Max submits.
“Sounds like a band name,” says Orson, grinning.
“What about Trouble?” I ask, glancing at the happy dog. “Shouldn’t it be four mutts?”
Braxton rubs Trouble’s belly, who smiles and rolls into his lap for better access. “Trouble’s no mutt, are you, Trouble?”
