Smart, Sexy and Secretive
Page 7

My mother heaves a sigh. “There’s a party tomorrow at the hotel. Your father is hosting it. We’ll pick you up at three.”
“Wait,” I say. “Why do I have to go?”
“It’s a family event,” she says. “You should bring Logan. It’s not black tie, but it’s rather formal,” she warns.
“Mom,” I moan. I’m pretty sure Logan doesn’t own a tie, much less a black one. “I don’t want to go.” I probably sound like a two-year-old, but I don’t care.
“It’s not optional. Your father is presenting his new ad campaign, and there will be some New York officials there.”
“I wanted to spend tomorrow with Logan,” I say quietly.
“I told you to bring him with you.”
“He doesn’t have anything to wear,” I admit.
“Oh,” my mother chirps. “Never fear. I’ll take care of it. I’ll have some things sent over for him. And for you, too. You can both take your pick of what to wear and send the rest back. Or keep it. I don’t particularly care.”
I can see Logan in a formal setting. He can fit in anywhere. I’m sure of it. “All right,” I sigh. “Send it.”
“I’ll send it to your apartment.” She stops talking and lets me absorb her words. “That is where you’re staying, right?” she asks. I can almost feel her grin through the phone.
“Yes, Mom. My apartment.” I bite back a groan.
“We’ll pick you both up at three,” she tells me. “Love you.”
She’s gone before I can respond.
Logan pokes his head into the room. Everything ok?
I nod. My mom said my presence is requested at a party tomorrow. I raise an eyebrow at him. Any chance you could go with me?
He pulls his head back, his chin pushing toward his chest as he looks down at me. What kind of party?
The really fancy kind.
His gaze shoots toward his closet, and I can already see him trying to plan.
My mom said she would send clothes for both of us. I hold my breath waiting for his response. I need clothes too.
Is it important to you?
Is it? No. It’s important to my father. I have to go. And if you don’t go, I’ll be stuck with Trip all night.
I can see the look in his eyes when it’s settled. I’m going.
You don’t have to.
I’m going.
He motions for me to come back out and join his brothers. I push back my fears about tomorrow. I grab his elbow as he walks by me, pulling him around. He wraps his arms around me and I think I’m going to get a quick hug, but his hands slide down over my ass and he hoists me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he pushes me against the wall.
“Wow,” I breathe. But he can’t hear me. His lips touch mine, kissing me hard, like he didn’t just spend last night in my bed. He licks into me, and I slide my tongue against the soft rasp of his. He steals my wits with every kiss. With every touch, he takes my breath.
He lifts his head and brushes his nose against mine, back and forth in little sweeps.
His arms are braced on the wall beside my head, and I turn to press my lips against the tattoo on his inner forearm. It’s the tattoo I drew, and it represents so much about our love for one another. I drew the guitar with the broken strings, shackles, and thorns when I was lost. And Logan added the keyhole to the center. He unlocked my world. And I’m not lost anymore.
I tip his face to mine so he can see my lips. “Let’s skip the party,” I suggest.
He heaves a sigh. “We can’t.” He presses his face into my neck and inhales deeply. Then he unhooks my legs from around his waist. “They rented a movie.”
I can just imagine car chases and guns. They are boys after all. “My kind or your kind?” I ask.
“There are no gender delineations here,” he teases, shaking his finger at me. He takes my hand and pulls me out of the room. Paul is in the lazy chair with Hayley in his lap, reading a book, and Sam and Pete are on one of the sofas. Matt is alone on the other, so I sit down beside him and lean into his shoulder. He reaches up to tousle my hair and smiles at me.
“I’m glad you’re back, kid,” he says. I lean more heavily into him, and he lifts his arm to the back of the sofa so I can nestle into his side. I breathe him in. He’s so much softer than Logan. But the cancer took its toll. He’s lost weight, and he has dark shadows beneath his eyes.
“You sure you’re okay?” I whisper to him. He looks down at me and tweaks my nose as Logan pulls my feet into his lap.
I lay my head on Matt’s thigh and he leans down to whisper to me. “Quit worrying about me and enjoy being back.” His hand strokes absently down the length of my hair as someone presses “play” to start the movie. I love this gentle giant.
The movie starts, and it’s not a thriller or a car chase. There’s no shooting. It’s a love story. My eyes well up with tears, and I scrub them on Matt’s leg.
“There’s no place like home,” I say quietly.
***
I wake up to the feel of being hoisted in the air. I reach for Logan’s neck, and he chuckles. “I got you,” he says to assure me.
“Don’t drop her,” Matt warns.
“I let you snuggle with her all through the movie,” Logan complains. But I can tell he’s not angry. “But she’s my girlfriend. And I’m not going to drop my girlfriend.” He nods toward Matt’s room. “You going to bed?” Logan asks.
Matt stretches and groans. “In a minute.” He stretches his leg out in front of him and wiggles his feet. “My f**king leg’s asleep.”
“That’s what you get for stealing my girl,” Logan scolds.
Matt laughs. “It was f**king worth it.” He calls to me, “Love you, kid!”
“Love you, too,” I say back. Matt’s voice is playful, but he means it. He does love me. I’ve become the honorary sister he never wanted. Or at least that’s how I see myself. I hope he sees me the same way.
The lights flash, and Logan looks back over his shoulder. His brothers do that to get his attention when he’s not looking. “What?” Logan asks. He hoists me higher.
Paul points toward the drawer full of condoms and arches his brow. It’s a house full of men, and they have a kitchen drawer full of condoms. It works for them, but heat creeps up my face when Paul points out that Logan needs to get one.
“Be right back,” Logan says.
He carries me into the bedroom and pulls back the covers. “I need to go talk to Paul,” he says. He bends down with the intention of kissing me.
“To talk about condoms?” I ask.
He grins. “Among other things.”
“What other things?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. But he has that look on his face like he needs to talk to me.” His lips brush mine quickly. “Be right back.”
He walks out the door, and I can’t be angry that Paul is trying to keep Logan safe. It’s what he does.
Logan
I’m pissed that Paul made Emily feel uncomfortable, but I try not to let it show as I walk into the living room to find him. He’s sitting on one sofa and Matt’s on the other. “I don’t need a condom,” I blurt out.
Paul’s brow lifts. “What the fuck?” he says. He shakes his head. “Go get a condom. Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not stupid,” I say. I’m not. I’m really not. Am I?
Matt heaves a sigh. “You should ask why he thinks he doesn’t need one,” he says. He shakes his head like we’re both the worst kind of stupid.
“Why do you feel the need to pry?” I ask. I’m twenty-one f**king years old. I’m not a child.
“That’s what I do,” Paul warns. He pats his chest. “I f**king care about you, doofus.”
Matt coughs into his fist. “So, why don’t you need a condom?” he asks gently. He holds up a hand to stop Paul’s upcoming tirade. “I’m sure there’s a good reason.”
I scrub a hand down my face. She wouldn’t like me discussing this with them, but they’re not going to shut up about it until I explain. “She’s on the pill,” I hiss.
Paul laughs and points toward his bedroom. He put Hayley to bed when she fell asleep, a few minutes after the movie started. “So was Hayley’s mom. And look where that got us.” I open my mouth to speak, and he holds up a hand to stop me. “I love that little girl more than anything, and I don’t regret one thing about the way she got here, but the pill is about ninety-four percent effective, dumbass.” He throws a pillow at me.
“I’m going to marry her,” I say. It’s like I have diarrhea of the mouth.
“You better,” Matt murmurs.
“I will!” I shove him in the shoulder. “I have to win her father over first, and then I’m going to marry her.” So there.
“Does she want kids?” Matt asks. He would ask the difficult questions.
“She’s afraid she won’t be a good mother,” I admit. “But she’s wrong.”
“What’s she afraid of?” Paul asks.
I can’t tell them about her not being able to read well. Her dyslexia makes it really difficult for her, and she has trouble even with simple sentences. “She just has some fears is all.” It’s not my secret to tell. Even to them.
Paul is like a dog with a bone. “You want to finish college, right?” he asks.
I want a cigarette. I quit smoking when Matt was sick with cancer, but I still want one at times like these.
I nod.
“Then go get a f**king condom.” His eyebrows draw together sternly. “Fuck. You’ve been doing it without one.”
I bite back a growl. “She’s on the f**king pill. Quit being such a dick.”
“If you don’t use one, you have about ninety-four percent chance of finishing college. A ninety-four percent chance of getting a good job that will impress her father and keep her comfortable. A ninety-four percent chance of not getting her f**king pregnant!”
“Ninety-four percent is worst-case scenario.” I am a rational adult. Right?
Paul growls and yanks at his short hair. “Listen to me,” he says, leaning forward. “I know you love her, and, hell, I love her too. And Matt would throw you off a bridge if he thought he could have her.” Paul chuckles and a grin he doesn’t want tips his lips.
“Ew,” Matt complains. “I don’t like her like that.” He points a finger in my face. “But I will throw you off a bridge if you hurt her.”
I shove his hand out of my face. “I wouldn’t hurt her for anything.” I clutch my fist to my chest. “I felt like part of me was missing when she was gone.” I shake my head. “I swear to God, I am not sure I could live without her.”
I look toward my bedroom, and my world settles knowing she’s in there waiting for me.
“You’re not going to listen to me, are you?” Paul asks.
I see my door open, and Emily stalks out. She’s wearing my shirt, and it comes down to her knees. She stomps into the kitchen, and I see her lips moving, but I can’t catch a word. She goes to the drawer, takes a handful of condoms and carries them back to the room, mumbling to herself the whole way. When she gets to the door, she holds them out like a prize and says, “Do you think this is enough?” Then she goes into the bedroom and slams the door behind her.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Paul says. He drops back heavily against the couch. “I didn’t mean for her to hear me. “Why is that she always hears me when I don’t want her to hear me? Fuck,” he breathes.
Matt’s doubled over with laughter. “That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” He points at Paul. “She’s so pissed.” He shoves my shoulder. “You’ll be lucky if you get laid at all.” He laughs like hell. I can’t figure out what’s so funny. They probably just ruined my night.
“You are not amusing,” I say. But a grin tugs at my lips, too. Damn, she was pissed. But she just solved my problem. “Now we have condoms. A lifetime supply. Are you happy?”
Paul snaps at me, “I would be happy if you’d use them.” His face softens. “I am just trying to take care of you. I would do the same thing for Sam or Pete or Matt.”
Matt nods dramatically at me. “We’re all subject to the condom talk. He brought one to me in bed one time when he realized he didn’t see me go to the drawer.”
“And thank God for that,” Paul bites out. “Because if you’d gotten April pregnant, where would you be now?”
Matt sobers. “I’d be a f**king father. Which is something I’ll never be.” He lumbers to his feet. “I’m going to bed now,” he says. I can feel the weight of his heavy sigh as it settles around the room.
“Damn, now you make me wish I’d let you get her pregnant,” Paul says.
Sometimes we forget how Matt’s life has changed. He may never get to have kids. He may not even get to have a life. His future’s undecided. But then, none of us have a predetermined life span. His is just more precarious.
Paul grabs the tail of Matt’s shirt. “I’m sorry,” he says when Matt looks back.
Matt squeezes his shoulder and grins. “Why? Did you give me cancer? No. Cancer is the only one I blame.” He grins at me. “Now go get Emily pregnant, Logan. Hurry the hell up.” He slaps his hands together. “Chop, chop.”