Page 82 of Changing Lanes

“He doesn’t know?” Angie asks Marc as if I’m not standing right here.

I almost yell. “What? What else don’t I know?” You know, aside from the fact my life is being planned out without my fucking knowledge.

“Does anything look familiar about them?”

Familiar? Meaning we know these fuckers?

Facing Paige and her fans, I see that the tallest one with a beard and a little too long on top hair—the one I saw at Creekwood with her—has similar coloring in his eyes, almost like Paige’s but lighter. The difference between the dark hair and the light eyes is so significant he should be a model, but he’s got the same sadness about him Paige does.

Muscles has the group in stitches already and while his head is thrown back in a deep laugh of his own I notice it sounds vaguely familiar as well. Kind of like the laugh I had the pleasure of listening to for the last two days, yet different somehow, more masculine. He watches their little crew with wary eyes, waiting for his next joke to land but in an almost nervous way, like they mean more than even he realizes. Like his comic relief alone can make or break the entire group. He’s lean but built and has a dirty air to him, not like a slob, but like his work is long and harsh. Some of our technicians at Pop The Hood have the same way about them.

Didn’t Paige say she spent time in the garage with her brother? And isn’t this guy who I saw her with at the pool once?

The one glued to his phone is dressed like he just came from work. His clean-cut look is different from the rest as he’s cloaked in black dress pants with a long sleeve dress shirt even though it’s almost a hundred degrees out here. Oh and also, he has a nose almost identical to Paige’s. He seems like his mind wants to be here but it just isn’t. He smiles every now and then when Paige focuses on him, otherwise he’s back on his phone, typing away.

Paige frowns each time she catches him looking at the device and my fingers itch to rip the fucking thing out of his hands.

The shortest one has lips I’d recognize anywhere. It’s almost disconcerting looking at the lips I’ve been dreaming about for weeks attached to a dude but there they are—Paige’s mouth but in male form. He’s lighting a cigarette with a tilt of those lips in Paige’s direction. She says something to him making him bark out a laugh that dies out as she snatches the nicotine stick straight from his mouth. He shoves her shoulder a little too hard to be friendly and my fists clench before she pushes him right back, making him stumble a few steps much to the others’ enjoyment. He’s a cocky little shit and Paige putting him in his place doesn’t sit well with him but it sure as fuck does with me.

Now that I’m really searching, all of them have the same thick ass chocolate colored hair. The only real distinction being Paige’s with her merlot streaks mixed in which make her stand out amongst the pack of lookalikes.

“Are they related?” But that doesn’t make sense. I thought she was with at least one of them before…or something.

“Those are her brothers, jackass. They surprised her today thanks to Marc.”

“Brothers? Fuck.” I adjust my hat, facing it forward. “Whenever she mentioned her brother, I thought she was talking about one. I had no idea she had four!” I crush my empty beer can and toss it in the pop-up bin a few feet away.

This whole time I assumed the worst about Paige and never gave her the chance to set the record straight. Not asking Paige about her life but expecting her to share details like her siblings was shitty. One more shitty thing I’ve done in a long list of shitty things Paige has experienced due to my stubbornness. I bullied my way past her defenses without stopping to see why they were there to begin with.

Goddamn it. I fucked up. I’ve fucked up a lot in my life but this time feels monumental. Like I need to fix it. Now.

Without another word, I trail after Paige’s family to introduce myself with mine at my sides. I didn’t know if they’d follow me but I’m glad they did. Even in my mistakes they’re willing to stand by me.

I look each of her brothers in the eye as I shake their hands. I may have pleasured the ever-loving shit out of their sister today but I’m still not a bitch.

They return the favor of holding their ground which I respect now that I know they’re not trying to get in Paige’s pants and all goes relatively well until the youngest one, Nick, steps up with his unbuttoned shirt and fuck all attitude trying to intimidate me. It does about the same as a Chihuahua barking up an evergreen tree. Dude could never be on my level so I ignore his bullshit to focus on Paige. She’s been smiling politely during introductions but is now refusing to meet my eye which pisses me off to no end.

Is she upset the cat’s out of the bag? Well, too damn bad. Beside the fact that I may or may not be crushing on the girl, she’s still our roommate and I think we need to know who she is.

A little voice in the back of my mind whispers that she deserves the same respect but I silence that shit real quick. Nobody needs that kind of negativity.

We all make our way over to a long table Coty brought from the garage and I follow Paige as she grabs a plate for food. She’s got a bounce in her step that wasn’t there when we arrived and my chest constricts knowing Marc had a hand in the reason for her sudden happiness.

I open my mouth a few times to speak to her without knowing what to say before just closing it altogether. Now isn’t the time to rain on her parade even if I wish I was the Grand Marshal of the fucking thing.

After loading up a plate with the first actual food I’ve eaten all day—I don’t care, Paige still tastes better than anything Angie ordered—I join the table Paige’s family and mine are both occupying. Oddly, the mishmash works and conversation flows effortlessly with Paige’s middle sibling, Tysen, leading the group with some amusing story he’s retelling.

While everyone’s eyes are on the newest entertainer, mine rest solely on Paige. She listens to her brother with both admiration and what looks like concern. The worry etched on her face only increases as her gaze touches on each of her other brothers.

Nick, sensing her, looks up, meeting her eyes and they have a silent conversation right here in the middle of a boisterous barbecue without even uttering a single word. A better man would give them some privacy. I, however, watch on with a desperate fascination. What’s plaguing them? If they’re even half as strong as Paige appears to be, then they’re better off banding together as a unit rather than bearing the burden alone like single children like myself are often forced to do.

My answer comes at the end of Tysen’s long winded story—I’m not gonna lie, I have no idea what the dude was talking about and I should probably give him some pointers after all this—when Nick breaks the staring contest to ask Paige about their mom. My ears, along with everyone else’s at the table, perk up. She’s never spoken about her parents before and I’m wondering why the fuck he’d be asking Paige. Wouldn’t he know as much as her about their mother?

Paige’s eyes drop to her lap as her hand reaches up tentatively touching her dry scratches.

Damn it. I need to treat those again soon.

Putting that on the back burner for now, my eyes eat up every detail as Paige fidgets in her seat. She’s still breathtakingly beautiful in all her badassery which somehow makes this even harder to watch.