Page 43 of Keep You Close

“Maybe she just needs some reassurance?”

“Of what?”

“That you’re not just trying to fuck her and leave her?” he said, then exhaling, “But that is what you’re going to do, isn’t it?” he asked. “So maybe you should just let her have her space.”

“Gee, thanks, bro,” I said.

“I love you, Atlas. But I care about that girl, too. You want to go out there and chase a different woman every night, that’s your prerogative. But those women know what they’re getting into, knows the deal. That’s probably not how things are with AJ. You’re playing house. It… complicates things. She’s probably confused. And trying not to catch feelings.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, seeing his point.

“And unless you intend to be more serious about her, leave her alone.”

With that, he pulled the car away from the curb, and leaving me to think on what he said.

Kingston was good with that. Giving advice with tact and thought, but that didn’t always mean it was an easy truth to try to choke down.

By the time Kingston helped me up over the hump leading into the Mallick house in my electric chair, I was swarmed by people.

The kids, always eager to say hi, to demand I let them scribble on my cast some more, were first. Then the sisters-in-law, asking me how I was doing, if I wanted to go here or there with them over the coming week.

Then, finally, my brothers.

“Still look like shit,” Nixon said, shooting me a smirk.

“Charming as always, isn’t he?” Reagan, his woman, asked from his side, rolling her eyes at him. “You actually look a lot better,” she said. “No more sling, huh?”

“Nah. I still have to baby the shoulder, but it’s alright. If I could just get this fucking thing off,” I said, gesturing toward my leg, “I’d be happy.”

“What’d the doc say on that?” Shane Mallick asked as he walked up, holding a beer that looked like a child’s toy in his giant hand.

Shane was a wall of a man. He owned a gym, and it was clear he spent a decent amount of time there when he wasn’t out busting kneecaps.

“He’s optimistic that I might have one or two more weeks in the cast before I go into a boot,” I told him.

“Full weight-bearing?” Shane asked.

“Yeah. Said I heal fast. Thank fuck, because I’m tired of not being able to move around.”

“Yeah, been there,” Shane agreed, nodding.

Being an active guy himself, he had to understand how much it was killing me to be so sedentary. I wanted to at least be able to walk around, even if I had weeks, or even months, of therapy ahead of me before I’m back to a hundred percent. Or as close to that as I could be after such a bad break.

“What’s all this?” a woman’s voice asked, pushing through the crowd.

And there she was.

The formidable matriarch of the Mallick family. A woman who raised five unruly, dangerous boys, but somehow made them into good men.

Helen was on the tall side, fit, with dark hair and light eyes.

“Well well well,” she said, brows raising as she looked at me. “It’s about time you showed your face at my table.”

“Heya, Helen,” I said, shooting her my best boyish smile.

“Oh, those smiles don’t work on me. I raised five boys who tried to get away with a lot of shit,” she told me.

“Just happy to see you, Helen,” I insisted, laying it on thick.

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