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Michael frowned. Only one person called him Mike and didn’t get a double barrel of snark in return. He’d always been Michael since his days as a pretentious kid who hated nicknames. “Mal?”

“Yeah.” The response was gruff, as most things were from his brother. “C’mon, buzz me in. Pretty sure they think I’m trying to break into the place.”

In spite of everything, Michael laughed and released the door.

A minute later, he turned the knob and found Malachi standing on the other side of the threshold. Huge, hulking, tattooed, bald. His opposite in every way.

“Long time no see, little brother.”

Chapter 3

Malachi Shawcross, his older brother. In the flesh.

Giant flesh, but good goddamn.

“Mal,” Michael managed before he was swept up into a massive bear hug. He didn’t have much choice but to return it, or risk losing lung function.

Sweet hell, Malachi was one big motherfucker. Shit, it was great to see him.

Long time no see was an understatement. He hadn’t been this physically close to his brother in a year or two, though they lived in the same frigging state.

Born eleven months apart, they’d gone from being best friends to practically enemies after their parents had divorced. Malachi had sided with their mother, and Michael had been closer to his father. He also hadn’t had such a hard time accepting Lila in their lives. Malachi had blamed Lila for the breakup while Michael had taken it much more in stride. Somehow he’d known even at that young age that Lila wouldn’t have been able to come between two people who were truly in love. His parents had fought all the time, and once they were apart, things got better. Life calmed down, minus the fact that his older brother had started pulling away.

Lila had been a fun kind of stepmom, always taking him to cool places like the zoo and her parents’ orchard back in New York. Through his dad’s marriage to her, Michael had gained another parent, one who wasn’t out mainly for her only interests.

And he’d repaid her for all those awesome years by making her feel bad. Yeah, he was winning all kinds of awards today.

Now his estranged brother was standing in front of him, and he’d be damned if he screwed this up too.

Maybe this would be the one thing to actually go right in a so far completely shitty day.

“Everything okay?” Michael asked as Malachi stepped back. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Me, Ma. We’re both fine.” The smallest glimmer of a smile twisted his mouth and disappeared just as fast. “Well, she’s not fine, but she’s healthy.”

“Aw, Christ, now what?”

When Malachi clenched his jaw, Michael held up a hand and paced over the windows. The balcony extended the length of the apartment, and he opened one of the French doors to get some air. A lot of air.

“Okay, lay it on me.”

Malachi dipped his hands in the pockets of his jeans. They were so worn that patches of skin showed through. The slashes weren’t for fashion though. Mal didn’t believe in such things. He just happened to be a millionaire who wore his clothes until they were rags.

Mal pulled out a folded piece of paper and walked over to join him by the French doors. Wordlessly, he pushed it into Michael’s hand.

Michael opened the fancy card stock and read the first few lines. That was all he needed to shove the invitation back at his brother. “I’m not going.”

“I figured you’d say that.”

“Are you?”

Mal stared out the open door. “She’s our mother. What the fuck can I do?”

Michael’s gaze followed his brother’s to the shimmer of ocean in the distance, crystal blue with a scatter of pinprick diamonds on top. Light bounced off the high-rises across the street, reflected off dozens of panes of glass. But the million-dollar view didn’t occupy all of his attention. Nope, he was too fixated on how someone could take the institution of marriage so fucking lightly.

“Five times. Five goddamn times, Mal. How can we continue to support her? She’s clearly lost her damn mind.”

Mal crumpled the invitation in his giant fist. And

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