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“Help yourself!” Romeo says cheerfully as I make my way into the kitchen. Holden and the other two went upstairs, so they could clear out one of the guest rooms for me that they were using as extra storage.
I tried to help, but they refused. Ren’s exact words were, ‘Scram, Rose, we can’t talk about you if you’re in the room.’ So here I am. In the kitchen with a yeti and a prince charming look-alike.
Romeo is a mountain of a man. He takes up half the damn kitchen. Okay, that’s not true, but he is huge. He’s cute, not my type, but still stupid attractive.
He has a reputation for being a bit of a fuckboy. He sleeps around a lot, but I personally don’t think he deserves to be called a fuckboy. Fuckboys are unapologetic and have no remorse for the pain they cause or the trail of used genitals they leave in their wake.
I think Romeo just likes having fun but doesn’t like commitment. At least, that was the vibe I got last summer. He was three sheets to the wind and smashed like a used can of beans. He poured his heart out to me that night, and the next morning he couldn’t remember a damn thing he said to me.
To be fair, I was also drunker than a raccoon in a wheelbarrow of whiskey, so I can’t fault him for his memory loss. I myself only remember half of what he said.
Something about mommy issues. When I brought it up a few hours and several glasses of water later, he went pale and clammed up, so I dropped it. Those secrets remain with drunk Rose.
“So, Phoenix is at it again, huh?” Griffin, or Griff as everyone calls him, asks before handing me a beer from the fridge as I look for a snack in the pantry.
“Yep. I love my brother, but ever since…well, you know,” I sigh, taking a long drink of the beer, still searching the shelves for something good.
Griff wasn’t there, of course, when Nix got injured, but it was all over the fucking news, and I know Griff heard the stories from Holden, Nash, and Ren. Particularly when Nix would show up and cause mayhem for a week before heading back off to his bullshit. He took classes here for a short time, too, but I’ve had menstrual cycles that lasted longer than that.
A lump forms in my throat at the thought of my brother. After his injury, he wasn’t the same. No one ever is after something like that, but Nix went off the rails. He only ever saw one path for his life. Hockey. First college, then NHL. But a broken…well, everything…derailed all those plans.
He still hasn’t recovered, over four years later. And it’s all my fault.
I close my eyes, picturing him the last time I saw him happy. He was seventeen and on the ice. Hazel eyes and long blond hair that was never styled. A cocky, smug smile stretching his lips as he skated over the ice like he was born there. My heart constricts. My twin brother was once so full of light. Now he’s the embodiment of a thunderstorm.
“I can’t even imagine,” Griff says grimly after a long stretch of silence. I nod because, honestly? Neither can I.
The closest thing I’ve ever had to a lifelong dream is dancing and wishing I could be a writer. Going to school to be an accountant wasn’t my first option, but I made it work. I’m a senior, and I'm bored out of my mind most days, but I still write all the time.
My fanfic is on point.
But you can’t make the kind of money I want to make as a writer or a dancer.
Even still, I don’t know what I’d do if someone took away my ability to tell stories. I’d be devastated, but I’d also be…lost. I guess that's why my brother is so broken. Hell, I hardly dance these days, and even that's something I could never live without.
“Rose?” a new voice asks, and I spin to find Fallon Knight staring at me with wide, shocked eyes. I swallow thickly because the man is fine as hell but…off.
He’s not like the rest of the men in this house, at least, not on the outside. If he was entirely different, he wouldn’t be allowed to live here. He scares me a bit if I’m honest.
“Hey, Fallon,” I greet with a wave. “Uh, I know Holden didn’t warn you I’d be here… I promise not to be a nuisance,” I vow, cringing as his haunted sapphire eyes focus on me.
“You’re going to be living here?” Fallon asks, looking to Griffin and Romeo for a sign of distress.
“Yeah. I hope that's okay?”
“Sure.” The soft smile he gives me has me shivering. I think he meant to look…friendly? Instead, he kind of looks like he wants to murder me.
While Romeo is tall, gentle, and sweet, with dark hair down to his shoulders and bright green eyes, Fallon is…not.
He’s lean muscle and sharp edges. Black hair, blue eyes that cut through you like a knife, and tan skin. He’s like every anti-hero of all time. I swallow thickly, taking a step away from him, which…is he smirking?
That's…okay, then. I have no words.
“You cook?” Romeo suddenly asks, looking hopeful. I glare at him skeptically.
“That depends. How often are you trying to rope me into cooking for all of you?” I lift a brow, and Rome chuckles.
“Once a week? We each get a day?” he offers, and I nod.
