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"Right," he says quietly. He rolls his head to look at me. "A weekend would be good. A little break from real life. We can fly out Friday night and come back late Sunday night."
"That could work." I try to sound relaxed and casual. "So, it would just be the four of us?"
There's that bright smile again. The man is always so happy. "Yes. Just us. If everyone came, it would be..." He trails off, and I laugh.
"A shit-show. It would be a shit-show. That's what you were going to say, right?"
"Pretty much. Last time we were in Miami, Maverick ended up in a Drag show. And let me tell you, those ladies can hold their liquor. I woke up on the beach wearing a wig and pasties."
Howling, I clutch my stomach. Nick rolls onto his side and rests his cheek on his massive bicep, a small smile playing on his lips. "It was a fun night," he murmurs. "But not relaxing. And I get the feeling you could use relaxing. You've been strung tight for a while."
My laughter settles as his words register. "Strung tight," I repeat. "I guess I am. There's a lot going on."
"I'm sure there is. But your boyfriend trying to kill you is a pretty big deal. You're still processing all of it. Are you still talking to the counselor?" It was foolish of me to think he'd let that pass. These boys don't believe in glossing over the hard stuff. They're talkers, and I usually love that about them. But not today.
I want to tell him to mind his own business, but I see the concern in his eyes. He's worried, and that warms me as much as it annoys me. I haven't been the girl people feel sorry for in a long time. Not since my parents died. Now, I feel like everyone's been tiptoeing around me, just a little.
"I'm still seeing her. It's helping, I think. I'm sleeping better, anyway. So that's something."
"That's a big thing." He reaches out and brushes his thumb over my cheek. "We just want you feeling whole again, Bree. I know there's not a quick fix for what you went through. I know it will live with you for a long time. Maybe forever. But it will get better."
"I hope so," I say, forcing the words out through the constriction in my throat. I don't want to live with it forever. I just want to forget. But he's right, I know he is. It will stay with me. There are still way too many nights I wake up in a sweat, feeling Tyler's hands around my throat.
"It will, I promise. With time, it'll be okay again. And you have all of us rooting for you, Bree. All of us."
"You guys are good friends," I say, needing to put distance between us. Needing to make sure the line is clear. I won't cross it. Not ever.
His mouth twists, and he winks. "I'm an excellent friend. It's been five minutes, let's go shoot some folks."
I reach out and boop his nose. His face scrunches up, making me laugh. "Okay, let's go. Dibs on Cara."
He shudders and sits up. "She's all yours. Your sister's scary."
Images of spaghetti dinners and soft hands brushing my hair fill my mind."You have no idea." They really don't. She is scary, but she also loves so fiercely, and cares so deeply. I push to my feet and stare down at him. "If we're doing this, we need a plan."
4
NICK
"Stop giggling," I whisper, scowling back at Bree. I don't actually want her to stop. I love her laugh, and I want to hear more of it, but every time I scold her, she laughs more. I can play the grumpy competitive guy all night if it makes her happy.
"We're supposed to be sneaking woman. My brothers are going to catch us."
She presses her fingers to her lips and rests her NERF gun over her shoulder. "I know, I know. I can't help it. You just look so funny in those goggles."
I cross my eyes at her and focus back on the stairwell. We're just passing my floor, but my focus is on the penthouse. At least I'm trying to focus, but of course I can't help sneaking glances back at Bree. She insisted on changing into her 'stealth' clothes. She's wearing a black jumpsuit, the loose onesie type thing, and her hair is tied back in a ponytail. She looks like a sexy toddler, and I’m slightly uncomfortable with how attracted I am to her.
We reach the penthouse floor and I hold up a hand to signal for Bree to stop. I press my ear against the door and listen for any sounds of movement inside.
Silence.
I grin at Bree and give her a thumbs up. "Let's do this."
We creep into the penthouse, taking exaggerated steps to avoid making any noise. I feel like a cat burglar, and I can see Bree is loving it too. She's squinting through her goggles, carefully scanning every corner of the room, her NERF gun at the ready.
Suddenly, we hear footsteps coming down the hall and my heart jumps into my throat. We both freeze in our tracks and look around frantically for somewhere to hide. In a panic, I grab Bree's hand and drag her into the kitchen just as someone enters the room.
Bree is signaling to me, but I have no damned idea what she's trying to say. Clearly, she has a plan, but from what I can tell, it's to pick grapes and then juggle them, which makes no sense at all. We should have practiced the signals at least a little before coming on the offensive.
