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After frantically searching for nearly thirty minutes, Zach finally found Brock behind one of the two old cottages on the property. Brock sat on the ground just outside the back door and didn’t even look up when Zach took a seat beside him.
Zach shot off a quick text to Liam that he’d located the boy.
“You take off like that again and I’m going to think you don’t like our company.”
A pebble poked Zach in his rear end, so he shifted, stretching his legs out before him and crossing his ankles. The sun was getting lower, sending radiant orange rays spreading out along the horizon, making a stunning reflection in the pond.
“Liam and I have a history,” Zach started, staring at the pond and wondering about building a new dock, because focusing on work was so, so much easier than digging into his past. Unfortunately, this boy needed help, and Zach was going to have to put himself on the line. “Liam, Braxton—who you haven’t met—and I were all adopted. We had a sister, Chelsea.”
From the corner of his eye, Zach saw Brock stiffen. “Had?” he asked.
Zach nodded, plucking a clover from the ground beside him. He brought a knee up and rested his elbow on it, twirling the clover between his thumb and finger. He couldn’t sit still, not when he was about to open his heart to a virtual stranger.
“She passed away several months ago,” Zach told him, hating how he had to speak of his vibrant sister in the past tense. “She was in a skiing accident.”
“And you liked her?” Brock asked, as if family love was foreign. The question and the manner it was delivered broke Zach’s heart.
“I loved her more than anything. She was literally the glue that held us together.”
Zach heard footsteps seconds before Liam came into view. Catching his eye, Zach nodded. Liam quietly moved around to sit on the other side of Brock.
Having Liam here only made this that much harder. But maybe he needed to be here; maybe this was perfect timing.
“Liam and I have always rubbed each other the wrong way,” Zach went on, tossing the clover aside. “From day one he irritated me and I purposely irritated him. Braxton battled his own issues but kept trying to make peace between us. Chelsea loved us all and always tried to pretend we were one big, happy family. We were, but Liam and I definitely made things harder.”
When Liam didn’t chime in, Zach continued. “We were always hitting on each other. I’d get mad, throw a punch. He’d get mad, throw a punch. On rare occasions Braxton would join in, but only when he was really angry.”
“Yeah, I get that you guys punch a lot,” Brock mocked. “That’s what I was getting away from.”
Zach appreciated his honesty, but he was missing the point entirely.
“Even though Liam and I have our issues, I can speak for us both when I say we love each other.” Zach had to swallow. He’d not said those words aloud . . . ever. But he did love his brothers and should’ve said the words well before now. “We’re family and we’re always there for each other. Why the hell else do you think three dudes are working on opening a resort for women only? It sure as hell isn’t because we love to read up on massages and facials. We’re doing this to honor our sister. In the end, we’ve got a bond that nothing can break. And when we fight, we aren’t trying to show our power and anger. It’s just how we are.”
Zach glanced over Brock’s head at Liam. His brother met his eyes, held them, and nodded in agreement. Something coursed through Zach . . . love, relief. He hadn’t been lying. He truly loved his brother, and having Brock here only helped Zach face the truth he’d known for years.
“I’ve hurt Liam in more ways than I can count.” Zach prayed like hell he wasn’t going to have to dig into the accident portion of his past—or worse, start sobbing like some pathetic guy who couldn’t control his emotions. “But I hope he knows I’d do anything for him.”
“Do you get what he’s saying?” Liam asked Brock. “We’d never hurt you. Ever. We might throw a punch at each other, yes, but we love each other. We piss each other off, but that’s just how we show our love. It’s warped, but you have to know you’re safe here. We’d never let anyone lay a hand on you.”
Zach’s chest ached. He replayed all the things Brock had told him earlier and Zach wanted nothing more than to go throat punch a few people. What kind of monsters laid their hands on children out of anger? There was a special pocket of hell for those people.
Brock glanced at Liam. “Did you get that scar from your parents?” he asked as if a parent harming a child was a normal conversation. Completely heartbreaking.
Liam reached up and ran a fingertip over the red line down the side of his face. “Car accident when I was twenty-three.”
Zach stared, waiting for more of an explanation, shocked when Liam left it at that. A bit of relief filled him, followed quickly by even more love. Even now, after everything, Liam was protecting Zach from retelling that story until he was ready.
“I don’t know who to believe,” Brock muttered, jerking on the blades of grass by his side. Pluck, toss, pluck, toss. “I hate my life.”
“I admit, you were dealt a rough hand,” Zach agreed. “I’m here to tell you that I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you never have to go back again.”
Brock grunted. “Foster care is a joke, man. I did that once and they put me right back with my ol’ lady once she got out of jail.”
“You’re not going back to her,” Zach promised, praying like hell he could keep it. “Foster care, I hope, isn’t an option.”
“Where would I stay?” Brock asked, searching Zach’s eyes. “With you? What do you know about raising a kid?”
