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DYLAN AND HIS brothers had planning the annual fundraiser down to a science. Once they chose a date and picked the overall theme, they divvied up the responsibilities, and the event usually came together pretty easily. They’d never had a difficult time picking a theme, but tonight they’d tossed around ideas throughout dinner, and they still hadn’t come together on a plan.
“Have you done a Western theme yet?” Tiffany asked. “That could be cute with guys in cowboy hats and girls in little denim skirts and boots.”
“I like how you think.” Brett winked at her.
Dylan bit back a scowl. He knew Brett was just being Brett, and not hitting on Tiffany. “We did a country theme four years ago,” he reminded him. He’d been thinking about what Tiffany had said last week, about celebrating his relationship with Lorelei, and he couldn’t get past the idea of doing just that. He knew what he was about to suggest would rattle the others, but he wanted to do the right thing, and as he’d learned from Mick standing up to his father all those years ago, sometimes that meant doing the hardest thing.
He set his napkin on the table as the waitress arrived and took their plates away. Then he took Tiffany’s hand in his and kissed the back of it. A silent thank you for giving him the nudge that she probably had no idea she’d provided.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said to the group. “We started this event as a way to help children, and the reason was because we lost our sister. Because we lost Lorelei.” He hadn’t said his sister’s name aloud around his brothers in so many years, his throat clogged with emotions. Tiffany wrapped her free hand around his arm, keeping their hands intertwined. He was thankful for the support.
Mick reached for Amanda’s hand, and Brett looked away. Only Carson held Dylan’s gaze with a serious expression.
“I think this year we should celebrate Lorelei’s life,” he said calmly, as if a tornado wasn’t wreaking havoc with his gut.
Mick nodded, his brows knit tightly together.
Brett let out a loud breath and pushed his hands beneath the table. Dylan knew they were fisted by the jumping of his biceps.
“I know it’s hard for us to talk about her, but Iwantto. And I think we all need to. She was our sister, and we all loved her and miss her. And yes, she took a piece of each of us with her when she died, but goddamn it, do you think she would want you, Brett, to be afraid of the emotions that come with saying her name?” He realized a restaurant probably wasn’t the best place to have this discussion, but the doors had blown open and there was no way he was stopping this gale-force wind. He did his best to lower his voice. “She calmed you, Brett. She was the yin to your crazy-ass yang. And, Mick—”
Mick held up his hand. “I’m with you, Dylan. I agree.”
“Great.” Dylan sighed with relief. “Carson?”
Carson nodded. “It’s hard. It’s been a long time, but I’m in. But don’t you think we should consider the other elephant in the room?” He shifted his eyes to Mick.
Mick’s jaw tightened. “Dad.”
There was a bout of silence. Amanda leaned closer to Mick, running her hand along the length of his arm, and whispered something that made his expression soften.
“This isn’t Dad’s decision,” Dylan finally said. “He doesn’t show up at the fundraisers anyway. He sends money.” He paused, giving his brothers a chance to weigh in, and when they didn’t, he said, “And as far as talking about our sister goes, we can pussyfoot around Dad forever if that’s what it takes. I obviously don’t want to be the one to try to get him to change his ways. Sharks don’t change.” He squeezed Tiffany’s hand, finding strength in her beautiful and unwavering supportive expression. “But she was our sister, and I, for one, want to celebrate that.”
“Okay, then,” Carson said evenly. “What are you proposing?”
Breathing another sigh of relief, Dylan pushed away thoughts of his father and said, “I’m thinking that we begin to truly honor her. With a poster-sized picture at the event, and that for once in our lives we stand up and be men about it.” He looked at Brett. “You know better than any of us what Lorelei’s dream was.”
Brett ground his teeth together. “Yeah.”
Dylan waved a hand, giving Brett the floor.
Brett shifted uncomfortably in his chair, cleared his throat, and then he finished his drink on one gulp. “She wanted to be famous and go to Tahiti. But y’all know that.” While Dylan had been Lorelei’s baking buddy and Mick had been her guardian, she’d used her cuteness to coerce Brett into role-playing with her. She used to pretend she was a famous model or actress and Brett was her bodyguard. Her favorite game was pretending she was so wealthy she could go anywhere, and she’d seen a television show about the rich and famous featuring their glamorous homes in Tahiti.
“We do,” Carson said. “But we’ve done a really good job of burying it.”
The pinched look on Carson’s face made Dylan wonder if he was thinking about how Lorelei used to pump him for information on things she couldn’t possibly understand. She was good at connecting with people. Funny how losing her had stolen that ability from each of them in various ways.
“So…” Tiffany said. “Does that mean we’re looking at an island night?”
“That sounds like it could be fun,” Amanda said. “Mick, you said Treat owns resorts all around the world. Maybe he’d be willing to donate a weekend at one in or near Tahiti.”
“Good idea. I’ll ask him,” Mick said solemnly.
“Treat Braden is a family friend of the Wilds, and he officiated Mick and Amanda’s wedding,” Dylan explained to Tiffany. “Six degrees of friendship.”
Carson tapped the table to get Brett’s attention. “Tatiana Grace’s family owns Island Cruise Lines. I bet I can get her to donate a trip, too.”
Brett shook his head. “Better you than me.”
