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Only it wasn’t Nolan at the counter, it was Roan dressed in a baseball tee shoved up to his elbows and a backwards baseball cap. The fucker even had eye grease on his cheeks. Happy fucking Halloween, right? He grabbed the counter for support as he broke down laughing when he saw me.
“You look like a fucking tool,” he wheezed.
“That’s the fucking point,” I said. “And shut the fuck up. I make this look good.”
“Fuck, I should’ve put your ass to work on a fucking pole instead of making you a fucking bouncer for the occasional shitheads,” he replied. I would’ve owned that fucking pole, thank you very much.
“Roan, you made me your bouncer.”
“I did not!”
“How many times,” I began dramatically as I grabbed his arm, “did I have to come home to find some woman in bed with you? Our home? You’d do that to me? After all these years, you ungrateful—fuck, I can’t even take me seriously.”
“No, no, please,” Roan said. “Keep going, boo, tell me how I wronged you.”
“What are you two going on about?” Nolan demanded, coming through the back door. “I can hear Killian’s theatrics all the way upstairs.”
“Fake boyfriends,” we answered in unison. No joke there. Roan liked them crazy. He also liked to bring crazy to his house—a dumb idea really—instead of going to theirs, where leaving was then his job. And Roan, for all his dickhead nature, had a big fucking heart. He hated kicking them out. Me? I didn’t fucking mind one bit.
More than once, he had me coming over to help him kick out some woman who tried to make herself a permanent fixture. Except more than once was one too many fucking times. So much so, I got bored and became a dramatic little shit. Sometimes I came in acting like a boyfriend finding out Roan was cheating and making a whole fucking scene. Others, I arrested his ass for stupid shit because I could. One time I showed up pissed off and told the girl he’d been drafted for a space war and probably wouldn’t survive. Bad idea. She fucking believed me and spent the next two hours giving him a proper send-off, but not before trying to get me to join. The fucking women he attracted were wild.
“Maybe pick better sexual partners and you won’t have that problem, Roan,” he replied. Roan slapped a hand to his chest as he gasped while I laughed my ass off. The kid really fucking called him out.
In true Nolan fashion, he was dressed to fucking perfection as a mechanic. I was fairly certain he’d stolen a pair of overalls from Sam. He was covered in grease, had black smears on his cheek, and had a fucking toolbelt around his waist. Put the kid in a garage and he would’ve looked like he belonged there. Hell, the way he searched shit on the internet, he probably knew more about cars than most of us just for the sake of curiosity.
“You look good, kid,” I commented.
“He doesn’t look like a stripper,” Roan countered.
“Please,” I scoffed. “The day Nolan Byrne becomes a stripper, the rest of us Byrnes are fucked. He’s the best looking of us.”
Nolan turned red.
He was, but in reality, Nolan had the biggest dick out of the rest of us—how we knew that was a story no one needed to know. The growing and showing aspect kept that shit a secret, but we fucking knew. Nolan had had enough issues fending off attempted girlfriends over the years while keeping his sexuality a secret. If word of his dick size got out… shit, small-town girls needed something to focus on and it’d be Nolan.
“It’s a curse,” Nolan said so softly that I almost missed it.
“I know, kid,” I told him. “Let Lucas and Finn take all the attention. Those shitheads love it.”
They really fucking did.
When Declan walked through the front door, I lost my fucking shit, laughing so hard I barely made a fucking sound as I slid down to the floor. Declan’s pick was Nolan, and the man went all in. He still wore the red flannel and white t-shirt, but the fucking man had sewn cat stuffed animals all over the front and back. There had to be at least a dozen dangling, a few sitting on his shoulders, and he even had one stuffed in his back pocket. And that one in his pocket? It had a fucking mustache just like the bookstore cat Nolan kept.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you look like a goddamn beanie baby,” Roan said. Any hope I had of gaining self-control went out the window with that comment.
“I’ll have you know, I sewed these fuckers on myself,” Declan retorted with an immense amount of pride.
“Are those my spare glasses?” Nolan asked.
“Yeah, I popped the lenses out,” he replied.
“They don’t just pop back in!”
“I didn’t know that!”
“Ask next time!” Nolan exclaimed. “You owe me new glasses.”
“Fucking worth it.” Declan grinned. He stopped in front of me, hands falling to his hips. “You good down there.”
