Page 96 of F*ckboys

Fenton: We'd like to meet with you at the cigar lounge on 4th. Have some whiskey and a chat.

Fallon's brothers want to meet with me for a chat? I'm guessing it's about their sister, of course. But what couldn't wait until the next family dinner? I guess this means they're either going to interrogate me, or they want to talk about Fallon without her overhearing. I guess I'll find out soon.

It's intimidating, the thought of going into the lion's den alone, although at least it sounds like Link won't be there. But neither will Cheston, and he's the one who always makes everything okay for everyone. Whatever the agenda, I'm happy to go. Because for Fallon, I'll walk through fire.

The lounge is dimly lit, all dark wood and leather. My boots thud on the plush rugs that cover the dark wood floor, the sound muffled by conversation and tinkling glasses.

Fenton spots me first. "Aksel, glad you could make it." His smile is friendly, guarded.

Bronson nods. "Been a while." His gaze is sharp, assessing.

My smile is a baring of teeth. "It has been a minute."

We exchange meaningless pleasantries, sizing each other up. Beneath the civility, tension hums.

Finally, Fenton leans forward, whiskey in hand. "That family dinner you attended, that was a bit of a doozy."

I smirk. "I wasn't sure if that's how they normally go or… Fallon hinted it might not have been a typical family dinner, but I thought maybe she was just making sure I'd come back a second time."

Bronson snorts. "Nah, you really picked an epic dinner. Her and Link going at it like that."

Fenton takes the opportunity to segue into the reason the three of us are really here. "How is she, really?"

The question I've been dreading. My chest tightens. "Fallon is..." How to answer? Not fine. Struggling. Drowning in darkness. "She's coping."

Bronson's stare intensifies. "We've noticed things aren't right. She's... different."

I swallow hard. "You've seen it too."

Bronson sighs. "Stubborn as hell, which is typical for her. But this black mood..."

"She won't accept help." I rub the back of my neck, rage and fear twisting inside. "But she needs it."

"She's always been stubborn," Fenton says, swirling his whiskey. "Never listens to reason. Charges ahead without thinking of consequences."

As serious as the topic is, it's amusing hearing someone else so close to Fallon describe her using almost the exact same words I would.

"That fierce independence is what I love about her," Bronson adds. "But it's going to get her into trouble one day."

I grip my glass, the urge to defend Fallon warring with the truth in their words. "She's resilient. Determined. She always fights her way through," I say, unable to hold back. "Some of that can come across as stubbornness, but I think those qualities are important and positive."

Fenton studies me. "You really care for her, don't you?"

Heat creeps up my neck. I look away, unable to lie.

"Well, shit," Bronson breathes. "Fallon finally found someone as stubborn as she is." He pauses. "But you're right. She's always been so damned independent." Affection softens his gruff tone, but then he frowns. "But this goes deeper. There's something wrong."

The truth spills out in a rush. "She's haunted by something she hasn't shared with me yet. Something that happened after webroke up back in high school, maybe something that happened in college. Whatever it is, it's destroying her."

Clouds seem to pass over both men's faces, their eyes growing dark with memory.

"She made some questionable choices back then, and ended up running with a bad crowd. Some of them... they... hurt her," Fenton growls.

"They hurt Fallon? How?" Ice slides through my veins and I freeze, my whiskey glass partway to my mouth.

They exchange a look, coming to some unspoken agreement. Fenton leans forward, his expression grave. "If you truly care for our sister, then there's something you should know."

I sit up straighter, heart pounding. "What is it?"

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