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I reach up to grasp her throat. Reminding her of the monster beneath this‘beautiful’face, I squeeze until her lips part and a tiny gust of air escapes from her. “I wanted your tongue on my piercings and my nose, chin, and lips buried somewhere between your legs, Baby.”
Her chest rises and falls, breasts swelling over her low-cut black dress that clings to every inch of her spectacular figure. How I want to peel that fucking dress off…
I feel her words within my palm as I hear them leave those pretty lips. “After, Hothead.”
“During, Woman.”
From above, Frank Sinatra’s voice sails down the staircase,“Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars.”
“Alright then, to the moon?” I ask, holding my hand out for her to take. Leading her up the staircase, we brace ourselves.
We are greeted at the top level by a loud “Surprise!” and my entire family scattered across the floor.
Stace and her girlfriend, Flick.
My niece and nephew.
My sisters-in-law.
Everyone who matters.
My brothers and my dad: with Konnor in a rugby jersey; Max in a white shirt, long sleeves bunched at his elbows; Bronson’s Olaf shirt stretched around his large torso and a beanie that matches my own on his shaved head, Clay in a three-piece navy suit, and Dad in a white shirt and tie like a fucking beefed-up tax agent, they look characteristically like my family.The Butcher Boys.
“Prise. Prise,” Stone chants, waddling around.
“Were you surprised? Were you?” Kelly asks, bouncing around my feet with her hair fashioned in the famous golden sprinkler atop her crown. As a baby, her hair was thin and wispy. Cassidy would pile it on her head in a scrunchy, but as the years went on and her hair thickened to its current abundant condition, she kept the style.
“I was. You,”—I grasp my chest animatedly— “scared the livingfrogout of me.”
“You can sayfrick, Uncle Xander.” Her expression is serious and schooling. “I know the real word. Daddy says it. Andfrogdoesn’t make any sense.”
Laughing at her sass, I say, “Oh, okay.”When did she start talking like that?“Niece Kelly.”
She tilts her head. “JustKelly.”
“Well,”—I walk to the left towards Max and Cassidy, grabbing Max’s hand but am pulled in for a rare-as-fuck hold— “then I’m justXander.”
Max taps my back as Kelly says, “No,UncleXander.”
Shaking my head, I chuckle. “Okay,NieceKelly.”
Frank Sinatra’s signature saxophone solo bellows out, and the memory of Dad dancing to this with his cigar stuck to his lower lip, whiskey spilling on the floor as he shuffled to the tune, projects behind my eyes. Happy—we did have happy times as children.
Frank sings,“In other words, I love you.”
Releasing me, Max grips my shoulders and holds me in front of him. His turbulent grey-blue eyes glisten with emotion and tell me everything I need to know. He loves me. “Love you, too, Dickhead. Don’t say anything. I’m kind of sick of your voice.”
Max grunts, and Cassidy giggles before sliding between us and banding her slim arms around my middle.Fuck,she’s tiny. I always forget how trim she is. I hold my sister-in-law to me, squeezing her, wondering how long I have before— Max tugs Cassidy from my arms, and I laugh.
“Menace! I was cuddling your brother,” Cassidy scolds, studying me with a soft smile on her lips and her freckles bunched above her nose. “You look frickin’ good, Xander. You look strong, and your skin…” She sucks a wobbly breath in, and I fight the way it flicks at emotion in my chest. “It’s so clear. Hardly any bruises.” She reaches up and touches my cheek. “I never liked seeing them, Xan.”
Staring at her, I nod slowly against her warm palm.
I’m sorry, Cassidy.
All this time, I was wearing the bruises like warpaint, liking their message, their warning, but the sight of them hurt my family. I never saw it… through their eyes.
Kaya joins our side. I inhale her presence, finding comfort in it immediately. Grounding. Gravity. My person.
