Page 78 of Lucky Strike

In the morning, we go to Callaghan’s before the sun is up. The gym is quiet save for a couple of regulars who nod in greeting as we make our way over to the weights. I can feel my muscles protesting against the early hour, but I push through the fatigue. It always takes me a while to shake off the grogginess, but Tristan has the enviable ability to get his shit together regardless of what time he went to bed and how much he drank.

Dad’s illness hangs over us whether we acknowledge it or not, a constant reminder of our mortality. We can't avoid the elephant in the room forever—eventually we’re going to have to hash it out. Dad, the future of our family, and how we’re dealing with all of it. But not today. Today, we communicate in the boxing ring, sparring until he gets me good in the ribs.

I grunt. “Fucker.”

Tristan waves to a guy he knows as we climb out of the ring, slick with sweat. “Must be all that French toast. Makes you soft.”

Back at the house, Nola and Bria are having coffee in the kitchen. This is their routine, their sacred huddle before the day gets going. I know everything that goes on in this house. Whether by my own observations, or by coaxing intel from Nola.

Bria’s warm brown eyes watch from behind her coffee cup as Tristan and I come in through the back door. She’s in her usual cotton shorts and t-shirt, her curly hair in a messy bun, and she’s so pretty I want to scoop her up and carry her upstairs.

“Morning, boys,” Nola says, starting to rise. “Hungry?”

“Finish your coffee,” I say, gently pressing her back into her seat. “We gotta clean up first.”

“Good morning, Ms. Nola,” Tristan says, dipping his chin. “Bria the Cheese.”

Bria rolls her eyes as Nola laughs, delighted by the nonsensical nickname. “He’s been calling me that since high school.”

“Ahh, you love it.” He ruffles her hair like he does Liam’s, continuing to the guest room he stays in whenever he’s here.

“Liam still sleeping?” I ask. Seems like he’s still recovering from the beach.

She nods, stirring her coffee. “I checked on him a couple minutes ago.”

Hanging my keys near the door, I glance back one last time before leaving the room. Bria looks up, smiling when she catches me peeking.Shit.She’s right here, but I miss her. Enough that there’s this unfamiliar hollow feeling in my chest. A hole that can only be filled by long conversations and lots of touching and, if I’m lucky, her body wrapped around mine. Or mine wrapped around hers. I’m not picky.

After breakfast, where Tristan inserts as much child-friendly innuendo as possible into the conversation, I follow Bria into Liam’s room. I don’t really have the time, but I make it anyway. Our day is about to diverge—I’m on my way to work, and she’s getting Liam ready for jiu jitsu.

“I’m probably not gonna see you two ‘til a lot later.” I lean inside the doorjamb as Bria knots Liam’s belt. “I have a crazy day ahead of me.”

“Yeah, I heard you telling Tristan about that big, new account,” Bria says, straightening up.

I nod. Kelly Logistics recently acquired a new account with an organic supplement business that needs to distribute nationwide. Normally Dad would be doing the paperwork and leading the onboarding process himself, but he won’t be back in time, so I told him I’d handle it. “Dad’s office is downtown, close to my firm, so I’m going to leave work early and head over there.”

“How late do you think you’ll be?”

“Not sure, but don’t wait up.” I look past her to Liam, who’s watching from the floor. He stands up, and we walk toward each other, meeting in a hug. “Love you, buddy.”

“I love you, Dad,” he says, squeezing my legs fiercely.

I squat, holding him by the arms. “Are you gonna be a good boy for Bria?”

He shrugs, already having moved on. “Yeah.”

“Promise? No sneaking out to look at the stars, right?” I tickle him, only half-kidding. I installed dead bolts while they were in Cape Cod, but that’s only part of the battle. I need his compliance, too.

Giggling, he grabs my hands. “I won’t!”

“Promise me!”

“I promise!”

“Good.” I hug him again, kissing the top of his head as he darts away.

Bria gives me a sympathetic smile. “We’ll be okay. Go do what you have to do.”

Yawning,I wave to the guys on patrol tonight and pull into my garage, pressing the button to close the gate behind me. It’s just past eleven, and my brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Between a difficult client at the firm and Kelly Logistics’ latest client, it’s been a day. And then Angel texted as I was leaving Dad’s office, saying he had info.

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