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She rolls onto her side and pins me with a knowing look. "I'm not talking about the religious god. Or even the dude up there riding around on a cloud. I mean the universal God. Do you believe that we are all connected?"
"I want to," I admit. "But I haven't seen much evidence of it, outside of this group, anyway.” The brothers are the best example of connectedness I've ever seen. I didn't know families could be like that, supportive and actually happy to see each other.
Becca hums low in her throat. "When I was growing up, I always believed. Everything just always worked out for me. When my dad died, I went through this period of...doubt. But I don't doubt anymore. I can't wrap my mind around all the bad things that happen in the world, and honestly, it's a bit above my pay grade. But when I look at my life, and where I've ended up, I feel it. I feel like I've been led here, to this city. To this man. To the dojo. To this family. My fucking car broke down, and I rolled right into the parking lot of the garage. If that's not meant to be, then I don't know what is."
"Or maybe you're just lucky," I say quietly. I've met lucky people. The ones that everything always works out for. The ones who ace the tests, and get the lead in the play, and get into the best colleges. That's never been me.
She shrugs. "So call it luck. Either way, you're lucky too."
I don't mean to, but I snort so loudly that the men, arguing about the spacing of cookie dough on the tray, go silent. I meet Jonas's concerned gaze and give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. It must work because they all go back to their argument.
"I got scammed and stolen from. My heart was broken. I don't see any evidence of this luck you're talking about."
Becca blows a raspberry with her lips and sits up, the hair on the back of her head sticking straight up. “Then, lady, you need to get your eyes checked."
"I see it," Maya says softly. "I see the chain of events that led me here. I wouldn't change them for anything. But when you're in the mud, it's hard to believe there's some master plan or destiny. It's hard to see the blessings."
"Maybe," Becca says, her eyes shifting to the door. "But if you don't start looking for the blessings, how are you supposed to know how blessed you are?"
Her words echo through my head as Colton carefully escorts a battered giant of a man into the apartment. I want to ignore her words and write her off as a crazy-haired wanna-be Buddha. But something about the idea of everything being a blessing or some act of destiny sits uncomfortably in my chest.
Becca, Maya, and I all watch silently as Colton guides the man to a stool at the island. So this is Colton's brother Johnny? I see the resemblance, for sure, but I also see a lot of differences. Size-wise, they're similar, though Johnny might be a little bit larger. But the big differences are in the way they hold themselves.
Colton moves through the world with absolute confidence and a lot of humor. The lines etched around his mouth are evidence of a man who smiles and laughs a lot. He’s always full of joy, as long as I've been working at Brash anyway, but that lightness is even more obvious since he met his wife.
Johnny, though, looks trapped. He's not making it obvious, but I can tell. It's in the still way he holds himself and the carefully blank expression. The man has a neat row of stitches marching across his face. The skin around it is bruised and red. He must be in so much pain. But it looks like he would rather die than let anyone know it.
Colton's chattering away, a slight edge of panic in his voice. He's been waiting for this for a long time, but having his brother get out of prison in this state is wearing on him. Zach, Kade, and Jonas are watching both of them carefully, unsure how to respond to either of them. It's Jonas who finally breaks the stalemate, scooping a cookie of the cooling rack with his spatula and carefully walking it around the island to Johnny. He stops, studying Johnny's face, then extends the spatula. Johnny turns his hand over, and Jonas drops the cookie into it, then nods and goes back to scooping dough.
"I can't believe how much he looks like Colton," Becca mutters. A glance at her reveals lines of worry etched in her face.
"They look alike, but I would imagine they're very different people," I say, watching as Johnny takes small careful bites, letting the cookie melt in his mouth. The poor man can't even chew.
Maya's phone chimes. She taps out a quick reply. "Abigail's coming up." Becca hums but doesn't respond, her worried eyes locked on Johnny.
"What are you afraid of?" I ask her quietly. She rest her cheek on the back of the couch and picks at the seam of a cushion with her short, unpolished nails. To her credit, she doesn't deny she's worried or dance around the subject like most people would.
"I don't know him, but Colton is putting a lot of emotional weight on John's arrival. But the man has been in prison for a long time. He's not the same brother Colton knew before."
"True, he's for sure different. But does that mean it has to be bad?" Should we be judging him by something that happened two decades ago? I would never want to be judged on my worst day.
"No...but it depends on the changes. He's harder than he used to be." She scowls and slaps the back of the couch. "Whatever. I'm keeping an eye on him. If he's here for the wrong reasons, then I'll deal with him."
She looks satisfied, at least temporarily, and I can't help wondering what 'deal with him' means. There are too many people's lives wrapped around this going well, so I'm not really of the 'wait and see' mentality. If John -- Johnny -- doesn't manage to settle here, it will break Colton's heart. And none of these men are going to be able to stand that.
No, wait and see isn't an option.
"Holy crap, dude. What the hell happened to you?"
Wincing, I turn, finding Abigail staring at John, a mixture of curiosity, sympathy, and fascination on her face. Her reaction is not unexpected. Abigail -- Abby as she prefers to be called -- is a woman without a filter. At least, that's been my experience of her. She says everything that's on her mind, and occasionally even she looks baffled by the words coming out of her mouth. She's been Maya's assistant and friend for a long time, and honestly, I don't entirely get it. But it works for them, so who am I to question it. We're all familiar with her particular brand of honesty, but outsiders aren't. But Johnny's expression shocks me. Despite the stitches, a small grin curves the corner of his mouth.
"A little going away present from my prison buddies."
She frowns, eyes darting between Colton and Johnny, before settling back on it. "Maybe buddy has a different meaning in prison? I prefer mani-pedis or gossiping with my buds, but hell, you do you."
A choked laugh escapes Johnny's mouth, and he winces, grabbing his rib. He glares at the hovering Colton, who throws his hands up and moves to the stove with the guys, who are all staring through the oven door at the baking cookies, like a family of ducks waiting for the next slice of bread to be tossed. Abigail moves into the seat next to Johnny.
Becca, Maya and I all crouch down, desperate to hear this interaction.
