Chapter 7
SMITH
After the embarrassment of passing out against the broad chest of one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen and then accidentally stealing his hoodie, I managed to make it to dinner with my brothers only marginally late.
Marshall, Finn, and Hunter were already there, and I slid into my usual seat at Marshall’s right, shoulders hunched.
“Whose hoodie?” Hunter asked immediately.
I tried to settle my shoulders, ignore the throbbing burn that pulsed in my forearm, and lie to my brother’s face, “I’ve had it since college. I don’t know where I got it.”
It was obvious he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t say anything, asking me instead about work. I hadn’t gone to work, so I gave him another lie, at which point Marshall interjected.
“Do you still hate it?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Depends on the day.”
“That feels normal,” Finn said. “That piece of crap from Hunter’s firm got shit-canned today.”
It was a quick segue that sent my eyebrows up to my hairline.
“The trash takes itself out or something,” Hunter said.
He reached under the table and pulled his phone out of his pocket at the same time I heard Marshall’s buzz with an incoming message.
The flush that colored Hunter’s face assured me it was a picture or message from Lincoln that was definitely not fit for public consumption.
I looked between his face and Marshall’s, frowning at them both.
“What?” Hunter asked.
“Is that Lincoln?”
“He’s out with Silas. They spend Fridays together since Marshall and I are here.”
“Where are they?” I asked.
Marshall choked on his drink, and I glanced at him in time to see him try to chase it down with a swallow of water that didn’t quite seem to do the trick.
The two of them shared a look, and I found myself curious about what sort of message they’d both received that had them so caught up in their answers.
“Rapture,” Hunter finally answered.
As with most things, I looked again to my oldest brother, my mentor, my idol.
His cheeks were pinked below his eyes, and it didn’t take an expert to deduce he knew what kind of club Rapture was and Hunter also knew what kind of club Rapture was, and they were hedging their bets that I didn’t know what kind of club Rapture was.
“Oh,” I said simply.
The corner of Finn’s mouth quirked up, almost imperceptibly, and he leaned forward so he could rest his elbows on the table. He propped his chin on his hands and smiled at me from the across the table.
“Have you been?” he asked, and I knew all of my brothers were familiar with the establishment, and I was obviously the last to know.
“Have you been?” Marshall shot back.
“Don’t assume you’re the only person in town who likes kinky sex, Marshall,” Finn snapped, which meant it was my turn to choke on my drink.
“I’ve been,” Finn answered casually. “I’m sure Hunter has been. Marshall, obviously. I don’t know if this is genetic or not, but—”
“I’ve been!” I blurted out, mostly because I wanted the conversation to stop and go in literally any other direction than down whatever kinky road led to all four of us knowing what kind of club Rapture was.
“I don’t want to know,” Marshall said.
“Do they want to make you an equity partner now that Shaw is out?” Finn asked, swirling his ice around and changing the subject with a wink.
The rest of the meal went as normal as it could be after that slight detour of conversation on the front end, and by the time we’d wrapped up and paid, I was more than ready to call it a night.
My arm hurt from the tattoo, my entire body ached from the adrenaline fluctuations, and I was in desperate need of sleep.
But the thought of being alone was almost too much for me to think about.
After saying goodbye to Finn and Marshall, I lingered alongside Hunter, wanting to ask if I could come over but not being able to get the words out.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Can I come over?”
The words were out before I could stop them, and I knew my coming over to his apartment was about to ruin whatever plans he had with Lincoln for the end of the night. I was about to open my mouth and take it back when he gave me a soft—if not worried—smile.
“Always, but what’s up?”
“I just—”
He cut me off before I could elaborate, “Of course. No explanation needed.”
We said our temporary goodbyes and drove separately to Hunter’s apartment.
After we both were inside and got our shoes off, Hunter handed me a pair of pajamas to borrow, which I carried into the guest room.
With the door closed behind me, I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the pants, realizing I couldn’t go back into the living room in just the shirt without my bandaged arm being front and center.
I shrugged back into the hoodie, appreciating the warmth and the smell of it, then rejoined my brother in his living room.
“Did you want me to turn the heater on?” he asked.
I shook my head, and Hunter handed me the remote.
We collapsed together on his couch, and I found a series to binge.
It was hours from when we sat down to when Lincoln got home, and even though at dinner I’d been more than ready to call it a night, I found the relaxation of being on Hunter’s couch just as rejuvenating as sleep.
Lincoln gave me a hello kiss against the corner of my mouth, a better kiss to Hunter, and then the two of them were off to bed.
I stayed on the couch a bit, then decided it was time to pack it in.
I turned everything off and went into the bedroom, finally peeling off Riggs’s hoodie but not straying far from it.
With the hoodie on top of the pillow, I laid down on my side and closed my eyes, but my swollen arm made it impossible to get comfortable.
With a yawn, I flung my legs out of bed and stood, heading for the bathroom where I knew Hunter kept a bottle or five of pain reliever.
I’d also forgotten to brush my teeth and the stale taste of the day mixed with wine from dinner and the silence of my TV time with Hunter wasn’t making it any easier to settle in.
For good measure, I took my phone with me, realizing for the first time since the afternoon that I had an unread text message from an unknown number that, upon further review, turned out to be Riggs.
He’d piggybacked on the thread where I’d sent him the inspiration for my arm, and I frowned down at the message.
Unknown
I probably shouldn’t have let you leave just now, but can you let me know you’re okay?
Something tight tangled together and wrapped around my ribs.
I didn’t trust myself to answer him, even though it was the right thing to do.
Without looking up, I swiped my hand up the wall to turn on the light so I didn’t crash into anything on my way to the bathroom, and in doing so, walked directly into my brother, who I’d assumed was still in bed with Lincoln.
“You good?” he asked.
His voice surprised me more than the sight of him, and I nearly dropped my phone. I managed to save it at the last minute, pressing it against my chest before it fell out of my hands and onto the ground.
“You startled me. I was just going to brush my teeth.” I gestured weakly toward the bathroom, the saran wrap around my forearm crinkling with the movement. I watched Hunter’s eyes widen as his stare fell from my face to my arm.
“Smith,” he said slowly, hand raised like he was about to try and physically push me back into the wall. “When the fuck did you get a tattoo?”
I blinked down at my arm. “Earlier today,” I said.
“The hoodie?” he asked me again.
“Borrowed it,” I confessed.
The hurt that flashed across my brother’s face was impossible to miss.
“I’m sorry I lied,” I said quickly, pulling my lip between my teeth. “I didn’t want to talk about it at dinner.”
“Do you want to talk about it now?”
I sucked in a deep breath, holding it until my lungs ached as much as my forearm.
“No,” I said.
“Do you need to?”
I dropped my cell phone into the pocket of my borrowed pajamas and shrugged.
“Come on,” Hunter said, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hall and back into the living room.
He shoved me down onto the couch and told me not to move, then he went back to his room.
Five minutes later, Hunter sat down on one side of me, Lincoln on the other.
Lincoln rested his head on my shoulder and held his hand out between us, palm up.
“What did you do?” he asked me, curling his fingers around my wrist and pulling my arm toward his face.
“Obviously, I got a tattoo.”
After Lincoln finished his inspection, he passed my arm over to Hunter, who hadn’t stopped frowning since we ran into each other in the hallway.
“First the name change, then wanting to quit your job.” Hunter returned my arm to my lap. “You’re too young to have a midlife crisis.”
“Aw.” Lincoln knocked his shoulder into mine. “It’s not a crisis. It’s…like a birth.”
“How do you figure?” I asked.
“You’re trying to break out of the shadow of your brothers,” he said, leaning forward to shoot a punishing look at his boyfriend. “Marshall especially, I think, but probably all of them.”
“Maybe,” I agreed.
“You could have just gotten a fish,” Hunter suggested.
“Probably would have been cheaper and less embarrassing.” I dropped my head against the back of the couch. “I passed out when we were done.”
“Shut up.” Lincoln surged into an upright position, twisting his legs until they crossed and both of his knees pressed into my thigh. “No, you didn’t.”
“I absolutely did.”
“Is that why you looked like shit at dinner?” Hunter asked.
I glared at him but sighed and nodded. “Maybe should have gotten a fish.”
Hunter lifted my arm again, inspecting what he could see of the tattoo through the bandage.
“Why don’t you go give it a wash,” he suggested.
Riggs had given me aftercare instructions on my way out the door, but I was so embarrassed about what had happened I’d tossed them on the passenger seat and not bothered to read them.
“I don’t remember what he said to do.”
“I got you,” Lincoln said, climbing to his feet and dragging me down the hallway to the guest bathroom, where I’d been headed in the first place.
He sat me down on the closed toilet and sat down between my legs, carefully picking at the medical tape and the wrap, doing his best to avoid applying any sort of pressure to my skin.
“I’ve been a bad friend, haven’t I?” he asked.
“Why would you say that?”
“The past two weeks, I’ve just…after everything happened with your brother, I’ve sort of checked out.”
“You’re very checked in with him, which is what he deserves,” I said, and I meant it.
I loved all of my brothers and they all deserved to be adored the way Lincoln adored Hunter, the way Silas worshiped Marshall. Finn was a man on his own and so was I, but he deserved it too. So did Andrew.
Lincoln didn’t have anything to say to that. He stood and pulled my arm toward the shower, then he turned on the spray and rinsed the gunk away from my skin. The water burned like hot oil, and there was no hiding the grunt of pain when the first drops hit.
“I meant to tell you, a friend of mine took me to Rapture last weekend.”
Lincoln’s fingers went still, then he returned to rinsing my arm, but he glanced at me with a mischievous spark in his eye.
“How was that?” he asked.
“Eye opening,” I admitted. “It came up at dinner tonight. Apparently all of my brothers had been there before but me.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you the things Hunter likes in the bedroom,” he said, sounding like an apology.
“I know what you like in the bedroom,” I reminded him. “It wasn’t such a stretch to assume my brother was also into it. It was a stretch to learn all of them are.”
Lincoln finished rinsing and washing my arm. He turned off the spray and sat down on the edge of the tub, his body neatly tucked between my spread knees.
“I have to admit I’m very curious about what kinks get Finn off,” Lincoln muttered. “He’s a bit of a loose cannon.”
“Oh, God.” I covered my face with my hands. “Please don’t.”
Lincoln laughed and stood, pulling my face against his stomach and wrapping his arms around me as best he could at the awkward angle. I hooked my non-tattooed arm around the backs of his thighs and sighed my weight down onto him.
“You’re gonna be okay, Smith,” Lincoln whispered, stroking his fingers through my hair. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it’s the truth.”
I was okay when my mother sold me to my father as a pre-teen, and I was okay after coming into a house with three brothers who were already thick as thieves.
I was okay after rebelling so hard I almost lost my scholarship, and I was okay after deciding that maybe the Covington name wasn’t so bad after all.
I would absolutely be okay after this, but that didn’t make it suck less in the meantime.
“I know,” I agreed. “I don’t have any other choice.”