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The man is a master at not saying much of anything. But I've gotten pretty good at getting the information I want out of him. "I see. Judging by the look on John's face, he was with you. How many of your brothers participated?"
Jonas slides his eyes away and stares up at the ceiling. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms, prepared to wait him out. I have to work really hard to keep the smile off my face.
John caves first.
"We all went, okay. It wasn't right the way he treated you. They needed to understand that shit wouldn't be tolerated."
Jonas flails in his chair and slaps a hand over John's mouth. They glare at each other, but the damage has been done.
"They? They needed to understand. Who else did you have a conversation with?"
Jonas releases John and looks at me. "You know the answer to that question."
"Keith."
Jonas nods. "Keith. You don't need to worry about the specifics Janey. If you ask, I will tell you, but I would rather not. All that matters is they will never bother you again. And I guarantee Keith will never hurt anyone else the way he hurt you. Can that be enough?"
Can that be enough? Do I really need to know exactly what they did? Probably not. I'm curious, but Jonas is asking me to let it go. And I trust him enough to do exactly that. But I think I'll be wondering about what happened for a very long time.
"Thank you for looking out for me," I say, stretching my hand across the table. He meets me halfway and grips me tightly.
"I will always l —“
Three quick texts echoing through the room make us all jump. Jonas scrambles for his phone. "It's time," he says, eyes wild. "Holly's water broke. We need to meet them in the garage."
I'm already rising, though with slightly less panic. First babies usually come slowly. We have time. John jumps up to check that everything's turned off in the kitchen, and Jonas is frantically texting. Abby and I trade smiles and move out into the foyer.
"Let me know how she's doing?" Abby asks, backing toward her apartment door.
"You're not coming?"
Her smile is a little sad. "I'm not family."
I'm ready to object, but Cara and Bree's apartment door — just Bree's now actually since Cara moved in with Declan — opens, and Nick bolts out clutching his leather jacket. He comes to a screeching halt when he sees us. The man's hair is standing straight up, looking a lot like Jonas's post-sex hair. Maybe it could have been styled that way.
Maybe.
Abby chokes out a laugh. "Your pants are on backward, dude."
My eyes drop straight down, and yes, a clear back pocket is high on his leg. He wheezes out a nervous laugh just as Bree appears at the door, her own blonde mane more than a little tousled. Her wide eyes take in the scene, then she pins both of us with a fierce look.
"You saw nothing. You got it?" Her wobbly voice undermines her fierce glare.
Abby mimes, zipping her mouth. Bree's shoulders relax. She looks at me but doesn't ask for a promise. She knows me well enough by now to understand that I won't break her trust.
At that very second, Jonas and John collide trying to exit John's apartment. With a little shoving and cursing, they both make it through. The four of us freeze in place, Bree in her apartment doorway with wild post-sex hair. Nick, hair standing straight up, pants on backward, and Abby and me, against the well.
I hold my breath as John's knowing gaze travels over us. He's not the one I'm worried about. Jonas is a little slower, eyes cataloging everything, but when he opens his mouth, he doesn't disappoint.
"You guys had sex," he says flatly, a hint of glee in his gaze. "Nick, you are so dead!"
