35. Wyatt
35
WYATT
My eyes land on Jackson as soon as I enter the kitchen.
Just like Matthias said last night, my brother is here and making himself at home. Judging by the two empty plates and the half-filled one, he’s been enjoying Jules’s cooking for a while now.
Jackson’s eyes meet mine and he instantly rolls them. “Knew it. You look happy now that you’re back together. Fucking told you so.”
Well, I’m not answering that. It’s my turn to roll my eyes back at him and grab a piece of French toast from his plate. Shoving it in my mouth, I use that as an excuse not to talk.
“Glad you’re no longer being dumb,” he adds. “From the sounds of it though, Matt was being just as dumb as you were.”
I glare at him, but before I can snap at him, Jules tsks and sets a plate of food in front of me. “I’ll make you your own plate. No need to steal.”
I nod, properly chastised. “Sorry.”
“You have to follow the rules, isn’t that right, Jules?” I swivel around to see Harley sauntering into the kitchen. His intense blue eyes are fixed firmly on our chef’s ass. “Can’t be upsetting the chef extraordinaire.”
“Oh, stop.” Jules turns pink, flicking his towel in Harley’s direction. “You’re a tease.”
He’s not wrong. But from the predatory way Harley tracks Jules around the kitchen, he wants to do a lot more than tease the man.
I go to introduce Harley to Jackson before I remember they were both at the gala last night. “You’ve met, right?”
“Yep,” Jackson says around a mouthful of eggs. “Harley’s going to teach me how to play poker.”
Harley leans over the table to fist-bump my brother. “Damn straight. Gotta have you hustling alongside the rest of us.”
I side-eye Harley, wondering if encouraging this friendship is actually a good idea.
“So, I’m moved back in, just so you know,” Jackson says before I can question the sanity of allowing the two of them to spend more time together. “Moving company came last night, and Wylder brought me here.”
“Oh god. I’m sorry,” I say as I pull him into a small hug, apologizing for the chaos that our lives have been.
He pats my back lightly. “Don’t apologize. I get it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I do. Life’s hard sometimes. Now go to Matthias. He’s looming, looking like a desperate puppy dog.”
I turn and see my husband lingering in the doorway, looking rumpled and flushed. A hickey sits on his neck, the one I left on him this morning. I can’t help but preen at how good it looks on him right now.
Mine.
“Yeah. All right. I think we’ll go outside. It’s not raining, so come get me if you need me.”
“I won’t need you, but thanks,” Jackson says with a wink.
And so Matthias and I wander around outdoors, my eyes taking in my garden that Corbin has kept pristine as if waiting for my return. He even kept my cannabis plants thriving. They must have started getting smelly because they’re nicely covered and just waiting to be harvested. He must have known I would come back.
“I can’t believe how much it’s all grown,” I say, my fingers laced with Matthias’s.
Matthias nods. “It has. I haven’t been out here since you left.”
“You haven’t?”
“Nope,” he squeezes my hand softly. “Too difficult. Reminded me too much of you.”
I lean into him, offering my weight as an anchor. “I’m back now, Matt. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Even if I fuck up again?”
I brush my lips over the hickey I left on him. “Nope. Not even then. This is home now.”
I pull back and study the gardens thoughtfully before turning to face him. “Actually, that’s not true. This isn’t home. You’re my home. You always have been.”
His answering grin heals something within me. Something that was broken and shattered when I walked away. Perhaps before that, all the way back when we were just dumb kids, hoping for an idealistic future that didn’t exist.
It’s okay though. We found our way back in the end.
I like this version better anyway. It’s more real.
It’s us.
* * *
“Are you sure about this?” Matthias asks me as his hand wraps around mine. I can hear the brothers in the other room, all talking loudly, the scent of smoke and food wafting toward us.
“Yeah, I am. I want to know everything about you. No more secrets.”
Tonight isn’t just about game night. It’s our unofficial initiation into The Firm. Mine and Jackson’s. We’re not going to be expected to work for them or anything like that.
But we’ll know what’s going on. We’ll have to keep their secrets.
And if the Buckinghams fall, so will I. Not Jackson though. Matt and I made sure to put safeguards in place for him if everything comes tumbling down. Not that we’re expecting that. The Buckinghams have been pulling this shit for literal generations.
I have to assume they know what they’re doing. Or I hope so, at least.
“And you’re sure you want Jackson to be here?” Matthias checks anxiously.
I nod. “Yeah, I want him to know. He deserves to know who he’s living with.”
Matthias looks unsure, but nods his head, pressing a kiss to my temple as Jackson appears next to me.
“Hey, sorry I’m a little late.”
“It’s fine. You ready for game night?”
Jackson nods eagerly. “I love a good game. Is Dalton here?”
Matthias chuckles as I shoot my brother a glare. “No. I mean, yes he is, but absolutely not. You are not going to be flirting with him.”
“Uh, who said I was into guys?”
I’m taken aback slightly, and I shake my head. “I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
Jackson arches an eyebrow at me. “Dude, I think you’re hallucinating. Just because you’re gay now doesn’t mean we all are.”
“I’m bi, actually.”
Jackson snorts. “Cool. Now can we get to playing? I want to make sure they don’t cheat. And I can smell the food.”
“No cigars for you,” I tell Jackson, but he ignores me, moving into the dimly lit room and straight for the platters of food. The entire Buckingham family is here. All the brothers are sitting around a large table, drinking and eating, Dalton and Wylder puffing on cigars as they lounge in their chairs.
“You made it!” Cade says, hopping up and pulling me into a hug. He slaps my back roughly and then moves to Matthias before moving over to Jackson and bumping his fist.
He and Jackson chat for a few minutes while I move my gaze around the room. I’m slightly nervous about how Jackson is going to react to this, how he’ll take it, but once we’re settled and Wylder begins the conversation, I realize that I had nothing to worry about.
“So, you guys are The Firm?” Jackson asks, taking a sloppy bite of a chicken wing. “Like, it’s not fake?”
“No,” Wylder says, and then Cade chimes in, “It’s fucking real, unfortunately.”
Jackson chews for a while and then bobs his head. “Cool. Since I’m family, can I join? Like, take care of requests and shit?”
Dalton laughs lowly at that as I snap, “Absolutely not.”
Jackson rolls his eyes and stuffs a few olives into his mouth. “Yeah, all right. No worries. No need to snap my head off. But that’s cool. The Firm, huh? I figured you would all be badasses, but you’re just here playing Guess Who.”
Samson huffs. “It’s a very dangerous game of Guess Who.”
He holds up his dagger to show Jackson, whose eyes widen slightly. “Cool. Can I have one of those?”
“No.” This time it comes from Matthias, who looks slightly annoyed.
Jackson laughs, grinning like a little shit, and my heart warms. He’s back to being a teenager—an eighteen-year-old one, but still—he’s able to be young again. Talking back, being a little dick. Just like he’s supposed to at that age.
He just wasn’t allowed to while we were struggling. He had to be strong, mature. It’s nice to see him testing out this new life.
Another little part of me heals seeing it.
“All right. All right. I get it.” He swipes his finger through some dip and pushes it into his mouth. “So, tell me about The Firm. Do you have, like, matching shirts or some shit?”
Cade snorts, and I see Dalton’s lips quirk up.
Samson is the one to respond though. “Fuck no. Who do you think we are?”
“Old men losers who play Guess Who on a Saturday night.”
The dry way he says that has Wylder laughing loudly, making everyone turn to stare at him.
“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat and schooling his face. “He’s funny.”
Jackson grins at that. “I am. I’m glad someone thinks so.”
His gaze flicks to Dalton, like he’s checking to see if the man finds him amusing too.
My eyes narrow. Not interested my fucking ass.
“How does it work?” Jackson asks, with typical teenage curiosity. “People ask you for whatever they like and you just do it?”
“To a certain extent,” Wylder says, settling back in his chair. “There are rare times when a request is out of the realm of possibility.”
“I’m still gutted we couldn’t get that girl her unicorn,” Harley says sadly. “She drew such an awesome picture of it too.”
I peer around Matthias at him. “What? A child asked for that?”
“Oh yes,” Harley nods emphatically. “But we don’t get many requests from kids or teenagers.”
Matthias’s hand squeezes mine as several sets of eyes look to him—to the teenager who did once go to The Firm.
For me.
Harley doesn’t seem to notice the empathetic looks that are darting Matt’s way, continuing on in his ramble. “The ones we do get are generally from those whose parents don’t believe we exist. They tend to let their kids put their wishes in just to humor them.”
Cade smirks. “They’d be fucked if we actually took it seriously and granted it.”
“I would’ve granted the unicorn one.” Harley folds his arms across his chest petulantly. “I did find a massive plushie. Dropped it off on her parents’ doorstep one night.”
“Something I’m sure they were eternally grateful for,” Matthias says, sarcasm dripping from his words.
“I got a unicorn tattoo,” Harley says eagerly to Jackson, getting to his feet. “Wanna see it?”
Before he can respond, the rest of them shout “ no! ” at a deafening volume. Samson reaches up to haul Harley back into his seat. “Get your ass out again and I’ll tattoo my fucking name on it. You got it?”
“Spoilsport,” Harley mutters before winking at Jackson. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you later.”
Jackson looks at me with wide eyes, like he’s suddenly realized he might be out of his depth.
I’m no help, offering him nothing other than a smirk. He’s going to have to learn how to keep up if he wants to play these games with the others.
“Behave, Harley,” Dalton growls, kicking Harley’s ankle. Jackson’s head snaps to him, and Dalton gives him a reassuring smile.
I swear, Jackson melts a little.
Matt laughs and tries to cover it with a cough. I turn my glare at him, knowing he’s seeing the same thing as I am.
“Dalton would never,” Matt whispers in my ear soothingly. “Let Jackson have his little crush. It’s innocent.”
Innocent . If Jackson thinks about Dalton the way I think about Matt, it’s far from fucking innocent.
“Going back to your question,” Wylder says as if Harley hasn’t just taken us all on a unicorn-filled tangent. “Yes, we try and fulfill all requests.”
Jackson tilts his head. “Even things like kidnapping? Murder?”
Wylder doesn’t flinch. “Like I said, all requests.”
“We do assess them first,” Samson adds gruffly. “We won’t hurt anyone who is completely innocent or undeserving. We have some morals.”
“Yes,” Wylder nods. “And if someone who’s a dick asks for something…let’s just say that the price they pay will be suitably fitting.”
“So, you’re basically the judges, juries, and executioners of St. Dismas,” I say, crossing my ankles as I meet Wylder’s gaze head-on. “Do you think that’s okay?”
I’m not judging them. I’m genuinely curious to know their thoughts, their belief system. I’m already fully behind them—my love for Matt has determined that.
But I can’t deny I’d like to understand them a little better.
“I think it’s something none of us have had a say in,” Wylder says carefully. “The Firm was originally established to counter a corrupt government. There was no sense of justice in the city. The Firm was set up to provide that.”
“And we still do to this day,” Cade says. “None of us chose this life, we were born into it.”
My gaze sweeps over the six brothers as I wonder what they might’ve become without The Firm. “But what’s to stop you giving it up now?”
“Nothing, I suppose,” Wylder shrugs. “But I think we all appreciate that we can make people’s lives happier while also taking out the trash.”
“And some of us love taking out the trash.” The grin Cade flashes me is unsettling.
“Justice and democracy are two things easily corrupted,” Matt says quietly, his thumb stroking over my hand. “Money equals power. We have both to spare. By granting the requests of those in need, we’re giving something back.”
Jackson speaks up at that. “By murdering people?”
Matt gives him a tight smile. “Believe it or not, that kind of request doesn’t come in often. When it does, it’s usually from a woman desperate to escape her abusive husband. Or someone who’s been assaulted and the system has failed to bring them to justice. That’s where we step in. And, sometimes, we use it to send a message to others. A warning that, where the courts fail, we will not.”
“Like the fucker I hung from the overpass last year,” Cade says darkly. “He’d been trafficking women. Someone whose sister had been snatched right off the street gave us the tip-off and asked us to make him pay.”
“So we did,” Wylder continues. “Or rather, Cade did. And in doing so, sent a stark warning to the rest of the gang of the fate that awaited them should they continue in their endeavors.”
It’s strange to hear Wylder describing such horrific things in his measured, verbose manner. It makes me wonder how much of the other brothers I truly know.
“What was the person’s price?” Jackson asks. “The one who gave you a tip-off.”
“He was asked to donate the money we deposited in his account to the charity he’d set up to fight against human trafficking,” Wylder says.
Jackson frowns. “That doesn’t seem like much of a price. Feels like a bonus if you ask me.”
Dalton sits forward. “We have to give a price because, if we didn’t, it’d become a free-for-all. But that doesn’t mean every request is worthy of one. Sometimes, in cases like that, the person deserves to be helped. The last thing they need is for more trouble to land in their lap.”
“Most of the requests are like the one Wy made,” Matt says. “Money to help an injured or sick relative. That sort of thing.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure Wyatt is happy with the price he paid,” Jackson says before reflecting on it and then wincing. “Or maybe not, considering the epic mourning he went through when you broke up.”
“Matthias was just as pathetic,” Dalton drawls.
“I’m happy that was my price,” I say, surprising myself as I do so. I turn my head to meet Matt’s gaze, offering him a soft smile. “I was pissed at the time, but I’m glad everything happened exactly as it did. If it hadn’t, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now. Together. I’d go through it over and over again to be with you.”
He grins softly. “I love you.”
“Love you more.”
“Shall we get started now?” Samson asks, pulling the tray in front of him and grabbing a cigar. “Before all this sickening lovey-dovey bullshit makes me vomit everywhere?”
“Fuck yeah,” Jackson says. “I’m going to kick your asses. All of them.”
My fingers twine around Matt’s, and he smiles at me.
Yeah, everything is going to be fine. I had nothing to worry about. I’m sure I’ll have more questions along the way, but that’s okay. I know Matt will answer them, and everything will be good.
Now that we’re together we can get through anything.