Page 88 of Don't Leave Me Behind
I got photos a couple of years ago when a group of girls did some landscaping after teepeeing the school. Mercer came home to Fabio covered in glitter, his hair braided and bedazzled. That motherfucker strutted around the paddock like he was God’s gift to horses. They say dogs match their owners, but I wonder if the person who created that saying ever met horse people.
I park outside of Mercer’s house, not entirely surprised to see Ethan sitting outside on one of the wooden rocking chairs. A beer in his hand, resting bitch face on display. I know he’s waiting for me; all the other guys’ trucks are here. In Adler’s case, his horse, Sir Percival, is tethered to the hitching post outside the house.
I grunt when I pull myself out of the truck, mentally preparing myself for another Kane brother’s confrontation.
“Ethan.” I stop at the steps, giving him a weak smile that he returns with narrowed eyes. We stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of seconds before I break. “Spit it out already.”
“I’m pissed at you. You should have called us the moment she showed up on base.”
“Fair,” I say. The thought had crossed my mind, sure.Twenty-one-year-old Clay wanted at least a little bit of time with her, even knowing it wouldn’t last.
“Why didn’t she tell us what happened?” Ethan stands up, draping his forearms across the banister. His eyes distant, brow furrowed, like this is a puzzle he can’t quite figure out.
“I don’t know, E.” I dart my eyes to the door, willing someone to come out before I admit that I’m lying and I do fucking know.
“Guess I’ll ask her this weekend then, because that’s fucked up.”
“She’s going to be thrilled, I told you guys,” I mumble, the weight of all this guilt gnawing at my insides. I walk past Ethan, shouldering open Mercer’s front door to the loud arguing voices of the three youngest Kane brothers and one stoically quiet Deputy Clark. He makes eye contact with me, nodding his head in my direction before going back to observing the boys.
“They’re doing a hot wings challenge,” Ethan says, standing next to me. “And she’ll get over it. If we have to deal with her telling lies all of a sudden, she can deal with the consequences.”
My chest tightens. This is why Leni moved away and hates coming back. Ethan sounds a hell of a lot more like an angry dad than a hurt older brother.
“Ahhh.” Adler taps the butcher block counter, his face turning beet red, tears steaming down his face. “No, more. Please.” He slams back a glass of milk, Mercer following suit behind him. Toby, the bastard, is sitting there completely unbothered, tearing into a wing.
“It’s not that bad.” He grins at the other two, who look like they’re regretting their choices.
“I love it when he eats spicy food.” Ethan can’t take his eyes off Adler, who looks like he’s about to bawllike a baby. “Good to see he’s actually human.” He snickers before moving into the kitchen to help himself to another beer.
“Ah!” Mercer grins. “The final member of the party, seeing as Daddy Brooky won’t be making it.”
“Can we not call him that?” Toby screws up his face.
“Yeah, no.” Adler coughs, chugging milk between breaths. “No, Daddy Brooky.”
Nate chuckles from his spot at the island. I’ve only been to one other poker night, and while he doesn’t talk much, Nate seems to be the only person who can actually best Toby. It’s interesting to watch the struggle. The rest of us are here for fun; these two are out for blood.
The boys do one last round of wings before we move down to the basement. Toby and Adler murmuring some kind of plan to best the new guy. Whatever they cooked up didn’t do them much good. I don’t know where he came from, but Nate can play poker.
“For fucks sake.” Adler tosses his cards down, pushing his last pile of chips across the green felted poker table to Nate. The rest of us all grumble similar sentiments while the asshole smiles. His arm draped over the back of the chair, free hand moving a chip across his knuckles.
“Good thing ya’ll stopped playing for money.” He chuckles, showcasing how badly he took us all by stacking his chips in obnoxiously straight lines.
“I think he cheated.” Toby eyes the growing stacks in front of Nate. His gaze moves from the chips piling up in front of Nate, turning a knowing smirk at Adler. One of those looks that means they’re having a private conversation with their eyes.
Nate glares a narrowed-eyed stare at him, a look most people might shy away from, but not Toby. At six-five, he’s built like a bear, the biggest of the Kane boys by far. Toby is a solidwall of muscle, and he doesn’t flinch when Nate glares. Nah, he just smiles.
“I do not cheat,” Nate growls, leaning forward. The dark corner of Mercer’s basement feels twice as small when he crowds the table.
Toby’s grin only widens, completely nonplussed by the action. He shrugs, brushing Nate off entirely, which succeeds in pissing him off more. Nate’s nostrils flare as he leans back in his seat, arms crossing over his chest.
“On that note.” Ethan chuckles, pushing up from the table. “I’m heading out. See you guys Sunday.” He cracks his knuckles against his chest. “Nate, you comin’ for family dinner?”
“No.” Nate, for the first time tonight, looks uncomfortable. I know that feeling, the overwhelmingness of the Kane family and all their goodness. It’s hard to handle when you’re used to having a shit family yourself. “Thank you, though, for the invite.”
“We’re going to get you there eventually.” Adler smiles at the newest member of our group. I’m surprised no one has added Nate to the group chat yet. Mercer sure is close to him, and it seems like the rest of them have adopted him, too. Maybe they’re waiting for him to make it to family dinner first. Seems to be the official welcoming into the family.
Nate doesn’t answer, giving Adler a jerk of his head with a signature grunt before grabbing his jacket and heading up the stairs. We all file out the door. Adler takes off, hopping on his horse, and rides into the night as he whistles. Toby and Nate walk toward their trucks, voices low and rumbling about something, probably more cheating accusations. I’m about to head for my own truck when Mercer taps my arm and nods his head toward the rocking chairs. He has that“I’m The Sheriff And We’re Having A Chat face.”
