Page 97 of Tempting Fate

You know, since it’s contagious and all…

I roll my eyes.

“Just as well she didn’t overhear the entire story,” Sander darkly muses. He shoots a glower at her retreating form. “Reckon her shoes woulda caught on fire.”

“Welcome to my reality,” I snap. “Rape victim trumps addict on the shame scale, any day.” When my twin flinches at the hostility in my statement, I hasten to explain, “Ignore me. I’m just a bit sensitive today. Dad’s grinding on my last nerve, and then there’s Fret, and Zeke, and... it’s all a bit much right now, you know?”

“I know.”

Our discussion dies off when we reach the end of the line of people waiting to get into the café. We stand in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. After placing our order and grabbing the buzzer synced with our number, I make my way to a free table. Always famished, Sander grabs himself six protein balls then joins me. While he scoffs them down, I flick Zeke’s wallet open and shut.

Each time it opens, the picture of us that he keeps in the transparent window mocks me.

We’re smiling.

Happy.

It took me more than five years to rebuild myself from the broken girl Sander described in the elevator to the grinning girl in the photo. Feels like it took Alex a mere five hours to undo all that hard work.

“How did Dad play off his decision to let Alex live to the Shamrocks? ’Specially without takin’ it to a vote.”

“Not sure.” Flicking my gaze from the image to Sander, I screw up my nose. “It was definitely an ambush, though. None of the brothers knew the Maddison’s would be there—I swear they all thought they were coming to watch me put a bullet in him. Their anger when they discovered otherwise was clear.”

“Can’t believe he’s still playin’ his games.”

“At least he’s not trying to marry me off to Alex this time.”

Sander chokes on the last of his protein ball. Coughing, he clears his throat, then quips with a laugh, “Give him time. Maybe he’ll try to give you to Hugh this time?”

“I’d like to see him try... Zeke’d raze the earth if he attempted that crap again.”

“And Slash... there wouldn’t be a trace of Dad’s DNA left by the time he was finished with him.” Sander chuckles. He reaches across the table and places his hand over mine. The curiosity in his eyes has a humorous tinge to it. “Do you ever think that you and Slash?—”

“I think Dad’s losing his mind,” I blurt out in a rush. The thought has been percolating in the back of my mind since our run-in earlier today at the clubhouse. I would prefer to discuss it with Fret since he spends the most time with our father, but Sander will do for now. “He’s not well mentally. Like, dementia, or something.”

My twin sits back in his seat with a frown. “Why do you say that?”

“He tried to say that he could’ve stopped me and you from getting hurt five years ago. Then he made some comment about Zeke being responsible for Alex not being dead already. It’s like he’s living in an alternate reality.”

“Or he’s just straight-up lying. Tryna salve his guilt by rewriting history.”

“Maybe,” I concede. “That’s what Zeke said. I don’t know, it’s just... I’m going to ask Fret what he thinks, he’ll know.”

I fall silent at the mention of our brother.

“He’ll be all right,” Sander promises.

The backs of my eyes sting. I keep my focus on the photograph in Zeke’s wallet, unable to meet Sander’s gaze as I tell him, “You didn’t see him. The blood. Too. Much. Blood. It was everywhere… I’m pretty sure he was tortured before they shot him.”

My brother covers my hand with his again and leans into me. Heads together, we breathe in each other’s calm until our buzzer vibrates the table. After stirring in the sugars and pressing the caps into place on our drinks order, Sander swoops in to do exactly what Zeke demanded. He takes the trays from me, holding them over my head when I attempt to snatch one of them back.

“I’m not useless, you know?”

“No one would dare think that about you, little Cherub.”

Nothing more is said as we make our way back to our floor. The elevator is packed. A trio of noisy kids make a ruckus, somehow oblivious to the pain that’s obviously weighing down their parents. They get off on the same floor as us and walk ahead. After they enter a waiting room a few doors down from the elevators, Sander blocks the corridor to stop me from going any farther.

“Take a seat.” He uses his chin to direct me to the bench that runs along the wall between each set of doors. “Think we have a couple more things to discuss.”

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