Chapter 22
twenty-two
. . .
FINN
“We’re definitely not in agreement.”
My brothers’ eyes found me, widening or narrowing in varying degrees of surprise and irritation.
I wasn’t going to stand down on this, though. Aria deserved to have one of us—actually all of us—go to bat for her.
For as long as I could remember, my little sister wanted to be a singer. Almost like her name had been a self-fulfilling prophecy. She was insanely talented, and that talent deserved to be displayed somewhere outside of the Swallow every weekend.
“What do you mean?” Trey asked.
“I mean she’s twenty-four. An adult. If she wants to move, there’s not a single fucking thing any of us can do to stop her. Not to mention,” I continued, “as her family, we should be encouraging her to chase her dreams, not holding her back under the guise of protection.”
“We just want to keep her safe,” West muttered.
“And right now, you’re suffocating her. Why do you think she spent so much time at my guest house? Because it’s away from your overbearing asses, who show up here and act like your word is gospel when it comes to how she lives her life.”
Next to me, Reagan gasped, realizing she’d taken over Aria’s safe space. I settled a hand on her thigh, squeezing gently, letting her know it was okay.
I’d been indulging in similar touches all evening, unable to resist the feel of her smooth, golden skin beneath my palms. Her fucking legs went on for miles in her little black shorts, and it had taken everything in me not to grab a handful of her ass when I’d walked up to greet her, Mama, and Aria out front earlier.
I was glad she indulged as well, not pushing me away or subtly distancing herself when I got close.
Almost like, maybe, her “I can’t do this with you” walls were crumbling.
But I wasn’t going to push her. I was happy to have her here, at my side, and I wouldn’t risk this little bit of common ground for anything.
Before any of my brothers could open their mouths to argue with me, Mama cut them off.
“I’m not going to listen to you all argue about this. You know where I stand on the matter.”
Her disappointment in the four of them said as much: she was in favor of Aria doing whatever made Aria happy.
“And I think you’re crazy,” Lane muttered.
Mama glared, and he wisely shut his trap, at least having the sense to look guilty.
“Moving onto more important things,” Mama said pointedly. “I’d just asked Aspen how wedding planning was going before you all so rudely interrupted.”
Groans rose from my brothers, and all but me and Crew made to get up, but Mama pinned them in place with a look.
“This is your punishment for being mean to your sister,” she said.
“Better than having our pie privileges revoked,” Trey muttered.
“The night is still young,” Mama quipped, then fixed her attention on Aspen.
Aspen wore a shit-eating grin on her face.
She secretly loved it when the boys got scolded by Mama, presumably fondly remembering her first family dinner in this house.
Mama had learned Lane tried to run her out of town and had given his slice of pie to Crew as punishment.
Crew had savored that fucking pie while Lane watched, fuming.
“Wedding planning is basically done. Linens have been ordered, chairs and tables have been rented, flowers are booked, and I had my first dress fitting. Oh! And we finally have a caterer,” she added with a pointed look at Crew.
“What?” he asked. “That first guy was a fucking creep, and the second one fucked up the ribs.”
“Okay, fair,” Aspen conceded. “Those ribs were dry as shit. But the first guy was not a creep.”
“He kept looking at your ass,” he told her flatly. “He’s lucky we left with his face intact.”
Ignoring that comment, Mama asked, “What about a photographer? The big day is in like two months.”
For the first time all evening, Reagan willfully waded into the conversation.
With a little gasp, she asked, “You don’t have a photographer this close to the big day?”
Aspen shook her head. “Where he”—she jabbed a finger into Crew’s chest—“was picky about the food, I’ve been picky about pictures. I haven’t found anyone whose work I’m in love with, you know?”
Reagan nodded, turning her attention from Aspen to me as Crew muttered something about picking one already.
I met Reagan’s gaze, her eyes narrowing a little, a silent question posed in them.
Somehow, I knew what she was asking without a word exchanged between us, and I gave her a small nod.
“I could do it,” she said quickly, whipping her head back to Aspen and Crew, interrupting their whispered argument.
Aspen’s eyes widened comically as Crew’s mouth split in a grin.
“You would?”
“Of course,” Reagan insisted. “I’d be happy to help.”
“You’re hired!” Crew yelled, and the room erupted into laughter.
“You’re insane,” Aspen said, turning to give him a kiss, then getting up and walking over to Reagan, hauling her up into a hug. An impressive feat, given Reagan was several inches taller.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she murmured. When they pulled apart, Aspen was grinning. “I secretly hoped for this, you know.” Then she glanced pointedly between the two of us. “And I’m still hoping for this.”
I smiled back at her. “Me too.”
Reagan blinked slowly at me, as though she couldn’t believe I admitted that out loud, and in front of my entire family, no less.
What she failed to realize was I’d fucking get on my knees and beg for a shot with her if I thought it would help.
For now, I’d content myself with letting her curl up against my side as the wedding conversation continued.
“How about the guests?” Mama prompted. “Do you have a head count yet?”
“RSVPs don’t officially need to be in until next week, but right now we’re looking at around two hundred.”
“One big ass party,” West said, grinning.
“Speaking of,” Crew started, angling his body toward my twin. “We’re still waiting on an RSVP from Tyler.”
“Who is Tyler?” Reagan whispered to me.
“West’s…something.”
Her brows drew together in confusion.
I leaned closer, my lips brushing her ear. She shivered against me, reacting to the sensual touch—which is precisely why I’d done it.
“Can we talk about this later? They have a long and complicated history.”
And, truthfully, not my story to tell.
West groaned. “She, uh…” he trailed off, his hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck in an imitation of my own nervous tic. “She didn’t text me back the last time I reached out.”
My brothers erupted, tossing out jeers and teasing words.
“Hell must have frozen over,” Trey mused.
Usually, West was the one leaving women on read, not the other way around.
But things with Tyler had always been different.
“If she doesn’t show up, who can you possibly have slutty wedding sex with?” Lane asked, giving West a suggestive nudge in his side.
“I have more women on my roster than just Tyler,” West mumbled, clearly pouting.
I seemed to be the only one who heard it for the lie it was.
Mama placed her fingers in her ears. “I don’t need to hear this.”
Ignoring that comment, Trey said, “Don’t you think it’s about time you two stop fucking around and admit there’s more happening there than just sex?”
West shot to his feet, towering over Trey as he said, “That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
I couldn’t see West’s face, but the rigid set of his shoulders told me his was pissed right the fuck off, that Trey had taken it too far.
However, I could see Trey’s face, and it had completely drained of color.
We all may know how to rile West up, but that knowledge ran in both directions, and West had pressed on Trey’s sore spot.
Wyatt Saunders.
A bit of a sore subject for the entire family these days, after her mother tried to kill both Aspen and Crew last year, but she’d been Trey’s best friend forever, and none of us were blind to the fact that he’d been in love with her for nearly as long.
After her mother died, Wyatt and her dad had picked up and left town in the middle of the night without a word to anyone—including Trey.
He didn’t talk about it, but we all knew he’d been trying to reach her for nearly a year with no luck.
I didn’t miss the look Crew and Aspen shared.
“What, baby bro?” I said to him. “You got something to say?”
Crew swallowed hard, clearly in a tough spot, but Aspen was the one who spoke.
“We invited her to the wedding. And she RSVPed…yes.”
It went so quiet in that room, you could’ve heard a pin drop.
“It’ll be good to see her,” Mama hedged. “Let her know we don’t blame her for any of it.”
West, who still stood in front of Trey, pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“I’ll call Tyler,” he mumbled before leaving the room.
I had half a mind to go after him, but I wasn’t going to intrude on that conversation, if there even was one. The one thing we knew unequivocally about Tyler Atwood was that she was as wild and free as a damn bird. That woman wouldn’t be caught unless she wanted to be.
I didn’t know if he meant to call her or simply needed an excuse to slip free of the scrutiny. Likely a combination of both. The front door closed, and he appeared on the porch, his back to the windows.
“And what about you?” Mama stared directly at Lane. “Will you be going stag?”
“It’s my brother’s wedding,” he said. “I don’t need a date.”
“But you have one,” Crew supplied happily. “The sheriff is bringing a plus one.”
“Sutton?” Mama asked with a brow raised, voicing the thought we all had.
Surprisingly, Lane shook his head.
“Addie,” he rasped out.
Oh shit.
Trey snorted. “That’s gonna get messy.”
“Sutton is coming,” Aspen supplied. “She was one of the first RSVPs I received.”
Reagan sat silent at my side, head turning back and forth, tracking the conversation, likely not having a single fucking clue what was happening.
“I’ll break it all down for you later,” I whispered, once again eliciting that tremble in her body, grinning as her flesh pebbled with goosebumps.
“I’m gonna need diagrams and a manual to keep all of these people straight.”
I liked that she wanted to know, no matter how complicated explaining it all would be.
That meant she wanted to stay.