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THEO
“Pretty sure I’ve never seen you smile quite this much before,” Seb shouts at me as we’re standing at the bar, waiting for another round of drinks.
I shrug, still unable to wipe the smile off my face.
“It’s fucking great, man. I’m happy for you.”
The moment Emmie emerged from the bathroom earlier, she walked straight into my arms and together we rejoined our friends, who were still grinding it up on the dance floor. Even Nico and Toby had joined, pulling some poor, innocent, unsuspecting girls along with them.
All of them watched our return with knowing smirks on their faces, but fuck it. I don’t care. As long as they know that Emmie is mine and one hundred percent off-limits, then that’s all that matters.
“You aren’t going to get out of it that easily,” I warn him.
He holds his hands up in surrender, a wide smile on his face.
“Got you what you wanted in the end, didn’t it?” I look over his shoulder to where Emmie is standing with Stella and Calli, each of them in their matching dresses. Obviously, Stella has Seb’s name and number on hers. But Calli stuck with Cirillo, giving herself the number one position. I wouldn’t have put it past her to put one of the other guys’ names on the back just to piss me and Nico off.
As much as I love that my cousin has grown a backbone since meeting Stella and Emmie, I also hate it.
It was easier when she was as quiet as a mouse and did as she was told. But I guess we should have known we were on borrowed time.
“You’re so fucking whipped,” Seb laughs.
“Fuck off. You’re just jealous that I put a ring on it first.”
His lips part to argue, but then he looks at Stella and all his argument leaves him. “Yeah, actually. I kinda am.”
“What the fuck happened to us, man? Handing our balls over to them two.”
“Shit could be worse. Cheers, mate,” he says to the barman as my eyes float to Toby, who’s leaning back against the railing, his shoulders lowered in defeat and dark circles around his eyes.
Yeah, shit could be worse. Our entire family could have imploded before our eyes.
Grabbing two of the drinks that have appeared before us. I carry one over to him.
“Here you go, bro.”
It takes him a beat to realise I’m even standing in front of him, and he barely reacts until he spots the drink in my hand. The second he sees it, his eyes light up and he happily takes it from me, knocking it back in one.
Leaning in so he can hear me over the music, I shout, “Tell me what I can do.”
I want to help. I want to make it better for him. But I have no fucking idea how.
“He’s having a fucking funeral next week,” he slurs. “A fucking funeral. People are going to be crying over him. A fucking scumbag like him. He doesn’t deserve for anyone to care that he died. He should be burning in hell, not be laid to fucking rest,” he rants.
“I know, man. I know.” I grab his shoulder, hoping that he gets some kind of support from it. “But it’s not about him. Boss is doing it for other innocent people like you.”
“Anyone who loved a piece of fucking shit like that can’t be innocent.”
I bite back my initial response to point out that his mum must have cared at some point. That is not the kind of support he needs right now.
“He was a master at manipulation. And I get it, I understand why you’re hurting. But the man they lost isn’t the one you know existed.”
“I know, fuck. I know. I just…” The glass in his hand flies toward the floor, shattering around our feet. “I want to burn that fucking church down with them all in it.”
“It won’t help, Tobes.”
“No, it’ll make me just like him,” he spits in disgust.
