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“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to—half of us don’t. But there’s good music and a chill vibe.”
Mason waved him off. “Sorry, Cap, we can’t. It’s a family night.”
“With you?”
“He’s part of my family,” I answered. We could go and just bring Drew along to the bar, but I didn’t want to. Just because I understood why they did what they did, didn’t mean I wasn’t a little saltyabout it.
“Geez, man. Give her a second. I’m sure she wants some time alone to throw darts at our pictures,” Kingston said, and I saw the impossible thing again—Kingston’s grin. His eyes crinkled with mirth, and I noticed a light scar carved through the corner of his upper lip and into his stubbly cheek.
“Oh, right. Okay, see you guys later.” And off Jones went.
“Thanks,” I muttered to Kingston. He had saved me from another awkward interaction.
The scar on his lip twitched with another grin. “Noproblem.”
I stared after him curiously as he left.
“Come on.” Mason nudged me, oblivious to my momentary lapse of brainfunction.
I quickly shook off whatever trance I was in, and Mason and I found our way to the parking lot, where my favorite person in the world was leaning against Mason’s lime-colored Jeep.
“Heads up,” he yelled and whipped his arm in a blur. I caught the fuzzy, yellow ball seconds before I ran and crashed into him. He squeezed me and spun, my feet dangling in the air. With all his layers on, it was like hugging the marshmallow man.
“Nice game, kid!” Drew set me down and patted my head like I did to Mason earlier. “Good job.”
Arghhh. I pushed him away and karate chopped him.
He defended against me, turned to Mason, and pointed.“And you.”
Mason put up his hands in surrender. “I did whatI could.”
“Hmm. You know where Jones and Kingston live, right?” At Mason’s nod, Drew continued. “Perfect. I say we hunt them down and kick their asses for being dicksto Riles.”
“No.” I threw the tennis ball back at Drew. It hit him in the chest, but he managed to catch it on the rebound and tucked it into a pocket of his jacket. “You can’t fight everyone who doesn’t like me. Also, have you seen those dudes? They would crush you.”
“Um, excuse me. Have you seen these muscles?” Drew flexedhis arms.
“What muscles? You’re an accountant.” In truth, he did have some impressive biceps. Not that you could see them through the million layers of clothes he was wearing. For all his Russian looks and the fact that he’d lived in New York his whole life, Drew hatedthe cold.
“I am not an accountant. I’m an investment banker. Plus, I wouldn’t do the heavy lifting. That’s what Mason is for.”
I laughed. “Mason hasn’t even thrown a punch on theice yet.”
“Hey,” Mason chimed.
“How about Mason doesn’t punch anyone tonight.” I turned to Drew. “And instead of you being an accountant or investment banker or whatever, you be a chef.”
“Oh, I like that plan,” Mason said.
“Fine,” Drew conceded. “But we need to stop and get ingredients.”
“Yeah, I have nothing at the house. Did you drive here?” I asked. Drew shook his head. “Then hop on in. Let’s get out of this cold.”
We got into Mason’s Jeep and went in search of food.
Drew had inherited the Upper West Side brownstone when our parents died and finished raising me there. It was our childhood home, and even when we both left New York for work, we couldn’t bring ourselves to sell it. It just felt wrong. Now that I was back, Drew was going to sign the deed over to me. The thought was surprisingly painful.
“Don’t think you’re not helping me cook, Riles. Only Mason gets to sit on his pretty ass,” Drew called out as he unlocked the door and walked inside as if he had done it every day for years. It was still a struggle for me to walk over thethreshold.
