I want what my brothers have. Someone who doesn’tlook at me and see the wreckage first. Someone who seesme.
But that’s not my life. Not anymore.
So I wipe the bar again, cling to the silence between my ribs, and pretend I’m not still thinking about the way her name looked glowing against my screen.
I continue cleaning the glasses with more force than necessary, my palm pressing until the scar tissue tugs. Every stretch, every twist of my arm comes with that deep burn. The itch never fades, burrowed under my skin like a reminder I’ll never escape.
Setting the glass I was cleaning too hard, I flex my hand against the ache, pushing my glasses back up the bridge of my nose.
I fucking hate them. They slip, they fog, and they remind me that even the parts of me untouched by fire are breaking down now.
“Would you look at that,” Maverick’s voice cuts through obnoxiously. His heavy arm slams across my shoulders, jolting the raw skin beneath my shirt. “Baby brother’s all grown up. Got himself some glasses. Next thing you know, he’ll be giving us lectures about bedtime.”
I shoot him a glare over the rim. “Get your bitch ass arm off me.”
He grins, leaning harder. “What’s that, Professor Hayes? Can’t hear you with all that wisdom weighing down your frames.”
Carter comes over to us, carrying two empty pint glasses. He sets them down and looks at me with that steady, unimpressed expression. “He’s right. You do look like a schoolteacher.”
Maverick explodes with laughter. “See? Even Carteragrees. Our baby brother is now Clark Kent, but with a mustache.”
I grit my teeth, reaching for the tap. “Glad you two assholes find this entertaining.”
“Entertaining?” Maverick grins so wide it’s stupid. “Reed, this is the highlight of my week. Amelia nearly spit out her drink when she saw you. She said you looked like a tortured, broody bartender.”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. “She said that?”
Maverick leans closer, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t worry, you’re not that broody.”
Carter finally cracks, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Broody’s an understatement.”
I shove Maverick’s beer toward him, sharper than I need to. “You two are insufferable.”
Maverick lifts his glass. “And you love ussss.”
I shake my head, turning back to the bottles. My skin burns, my chest aches, but for a second, the weight eases.
Even if I’m the youngest, even if I’ll always feel like the one left behind, they’re still my brothers.
And that’s enough to keep me standing behind this bar a little longer.
The rag’s still in my hand when I hear the scrape of chairs and the shuffle of familiar voices drawing closer.
“Reed,” Amelia groans as she waddles up, joining the conversation. Her hand cradles her belly, as the other clutches a glass of water. “Do you have any idea how miserable it is to be nine months pregnant? My ankles look like tree trunks, my back feels like it’s breaking in half, and if your brother doesn’t stop hovering over me, I swear?—”
Maverick ducks his head, smirking, his arm already sliding around her waist. “She loves it. Don’t let her fool you. Can’t get enough of me.” He leans down, pressing akiss to her temple. “My girl just doesn’t know how to admit she’s obsessed.”
Amelia shoots him a look, but her fingers curl in his shirt anyway, anchoring herself there.
“God, you’re insufferable,” she mutters, but kisses him anyway.
“Insufferably handsome,” he corrects, winking at me.
I roll my eyes and turn to grab a clean glass, anything to distract from the ache still simmering in my skin. Every movement tugs at the scar tissue, with the burn and itch constant and unforgiving. But I keep moving, because that’s what I do.
“REEEED!”
Her shriek pierces the bar like a siren. Catalina charges ahead, Carter following behind with his usual scowl that softens the moment she grabs his arm.
