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I watch as Ace and Beckett tease each other. Ace is poking fun at Beckett for burning a hot dog, and Beckett reminds him he almost burned his house down trying to make mac and cheese once. By the time we go inside with food, I am relaxed. That is instantly smothered by Mason’s foul attitude. I make eye contact with him and see anger, so I change my mind about going to him and turn to Beckett.

“You okay, Kitten?” he asks. “This plate is for you, by the way. Better stop me before I give you everything.”

“Lord, Bex. That’s plenty,” I laugh.

“Good. Go put your toppings on, and we can go sit in the living room,” he says. I nod and pivot over to stare at the toppings. It’s overwhelming, and I freeze.

“Here,” Ace says. “You hold, I’ll add.”

“Uh… Thanks,” I say. I watch as he navigates toward a topping, and then looks at me. Bella must have told him about her discovery of watching me. It apparently works, because what he creates looks delicious.

“Thank you,” Beckett says, clapping him on the back.

“Of course,” Ace says before looking at me. “Go sit, and I’ll bring you a drink. Bubble or no bubbles?”

“Uh… No bubbles,” I say, and he waves me off. I follow Beckett into the living room, and a few people move so he and I can sit. I glance up from my plate and see that Mason is watching Beckett. He looks over at me, and he looks… Sad.

“You get that old Harley running?” Mason asks.

“You talking to me?” Beckett asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Anyone else here fuck with those pieces of shit?” Mason asks. I hold my breath, but Beckett chuckles.

“Nah. I rebuilt the carb and rebuilt the fuel lines, but it still won’t idle,” Beckett says before taking a bite of his burger. Mason moves over to sit on the ottoman across from him to bite into his burger. Everyone is literally stunned, watching these two interact.

“You check for vacuum leaks?” Mason asks.

“You know… I don’t think I have,” Beckett says, sitting back to look at my brother.

“I was just fucking with a vacuum leak the other day. I could come over tomorrow and look at it with you,” Mason offers carefully. The entire room is holding its breath right now. Our parents are looking at each other, clearly concerned.

“Yeah, man. We can fuck with it and go get lunch,” Beckett says. “Maybe Sierra and Bella can join, if they want.”

“Sure,” I say with a simple smile.

They continue talking about bikes they’ve owned together and separately as kids while we all eat. Everyone relaxes and continues to chat, even crossing the room to mingle between groups. I see Ronan leaning against the wall watching everyone. He doesn’t look mad, sad, or happy. He just looks like he is studying. I can’t place it, but I am far too on edge to be analyzing people’s actions right now.

I watch as he pulls his phone out, types a quick message, and then slips it away as if he never did anything. As we are getting up to put our plate in the trash, the doorbell rings.

“Are we missing anyone?” Mason asks, looking around. Ronan casually turns and opens the door.

“Hey, y’all,” Kate Botham says with a sweet smile. “Sorry I’m late. I had to wait for the babysitter.”

“Ah, shit,” Ace curses under his breath, placing himself between Kate and Beckett as soon as she turns to him. She pauses before turning to Mason and throwing her arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, Mason! How are you?” she asks happily.

Beckett grits his teeth, and he gets tense, and I am very suddenly uncomfortable. I take a step away, and Kate immediately takes the opportunity to hug him. Rage slips back into the room, and I continue to back away.

“Man, it’s good to have everyone back together,” Kate says. “Reminds me of the old days.”

“Everything okay?” Ronan asks. “She’s my baby mama. I figured everyone included family.”

“It’s fine,” Beckett says harshly, pushing her back a step before disappearing into the kitchen.

I feel like the walls are closing in on me, and my chest is tight. I can feel my body trembling, and I can’t make it stop. I back up so much that I run into something. I turn, ready to start apologizing, but it’s Ace. He takes my plate and hands it off to someone else before grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the hallway. Hardly anyone sees us escape.

As soon as we are in the bedroom, he shuts the door. “I can’t breathe,” I whimper. Talking strains my lungs, and it sends me spiraling into a panic so fast that I can’t catch myself. It takes mere seconds for me to start hyperventilating as I sob, bringing myself down to my knees. It’s crushing me down to the floor, curling myself up so no one can hurt me. That’s what I’ve taught myself—Protect my torso because I can’t survive internal bleeding when no one will care enough to take me to get help.