11. Beau
11
BEAU
It’s not like anyone can tell by looking at us. The same dark blond hair, similar build, and matching dimples.
Dad pats me on the back twice with a chuckle. “I better go see what your mother is up to. We’ll lose her to the garden if we’re not careful.” He whistles as he strolls across the living room to the sliding glass door Ma just left out of.
We head into the kitchen together, both of us grabbing the usual Sunday dinner fare Ma prefers.
“We good for tomorrow night? Everyone know what they need to do?” Graham keeps his voice low, barely louder than the hum of the refrigerator.
We have a crew of trusted people that keep the Alley running smoothly. It’s the most legal illegal shit I’ve ever seen. We try our best to be as smart as possible about it, like paying some EMTs to be on standby during every race.
We have fucking food trucks there, for fuck’s sake.
During a regular race, the Alley functions like a well-oiled machine. But as a pre-qualifier for the Gauntlet? It’s a whole different beast.
More drivers, more spectators, more money coming in. And with that comes more risk, more pressure, more potential for things to go sideways fast.
I nod at Graham, grabbing two more glasses from the cabinet. “Yeah, man, we’re good. Loch and Sam are amping up the security, Jess trained everyone on the new comms, and Zoe and Tash are in the vault, with Chuck floating around to step in if necessary. I’ll be out front, making sure everything stays smooth.”
Graham raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “You ready to tell me the real reason you’re not running the Gauntlet this year?”
I’ve thought about telling him the real reason too many times to count, but something always holds me back. I’ll fill him in when I hit that five-year mark, fulfilling Nana Jo’s request and inheriting half of her stock portfolio. I have a hunch that the other half of her sizable account was left to my brother, but fuck if I know for sure.
I don’t know why we’re all being so secretive about it. Or how it even started. And now, it snowballed into this thing , and no one wants to be the first to break.
Not Cora though. She made sure everyone knew about her inheritance and that Nana Jo’s stipulation was for her to use it to open her bakery.
“Told you, man, went out on top. Best way to go.”
“Yeah, and maybe if I didn’t catch you in your garage, taking care of your cars better than some people take care of their pets, I’d believe you. You fucking love driving, man.”
“Yeah, and once upon a time, you loved baseball, too. Shit happens and life moves on.”
He jams his finger toward me, his brows tugging low over his glare. “That’s different, and you know it.”
He’s not wrong, but I’m not backing down on this, so I just shrug. “Yeah, maybe, but I’ll be in the front row tonight. Watching. When’s the last time we had this many drivers trying to race at the Alley, huh? It’s fuckin’ wild.”
He hums under his breath as he grabs cutlery from the drawer. His gaze lingers on me. “You sure you don’t wanna jump in this year?”
I swallow over the tightness in my throat. “Nah, I’m good.”
I won the Gauntlet three years ago, and had Nana Jo not passed away, had we not had her reading of the will eighteen months ago, I would’ve been back in, mixing it up.
But I accepted her terms, so here the fuck I am. Sitting on the sidelines while everyone else does twenty laps around the Alley. Pretending I don’t feel like a washed-up asshole who can’t hack it anymore.
We’ve exhausted all the usual catching-up conversation halfway through dinner. Ma detailed everyone on my youngest sister, Abby’s, adventures on the west coast. Dad boasted about Ma’s greenhouse sales she had in the last week. Graham and I kept our anecdotes on the past week as vague as usual, and Cora told a funny story about her cat.
“Cora, dear, have you given any thought to what you’ll do when you’re married?” Ma asks. Her tone is polite curiosity, but I know better. Underneath that serene smile is a shark, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Ever since Coraline started dating a Reaper, Ma’s taken a special interest in their relationship. But Jagger’s a decent man. He treats my sister like a goddamn queen, and I have it on good authority that he’s exacted his own style of justice when it comes to her.
Cora chokes on her food. She holds a soft, gold napkin over her mouth as Jagger gently pats her back, rubbing small circles over it.
“Jesus, Mom,” she sputters.
“Well, if the idea of marriage is so shocking to you, then maybe you’re not ready for such a serious step, like moving in together,” Ma says. She keeps her eyebrows high as she takes a forkful of lasagna. “I’m just saying. If you give up your lease and things go south between you, then what are you going to do?”
Inside, I’m cringing so hard. I love my mother, but it’s painful to watch her make suggestions to Coraline. We’re a close family, and ribbing one another is basically a love language.
But a few months ago, Cora came over and asked for a favor. She got into a jam and needed some help, which I was all too happy to give. It was a turning point in our relationship. Ever since then, she’s been more open with me, and I realized how she really felt about all the commentary—especially about her baking.
It was never malicious on my end, but I still feel the sharp sting of guilt that I contributed to her hurt. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget the way she looked when she told me how hurtful these family dinners are for her.
I can’t believe Ma is doing it maliciously. Nah, she’s not that kind of person. I’m almost positive she thinks she’s giving her daughter motherly advice or some shit. But now that Cora’s opened my eyes to it, I can’t not see it.
There’s a beat of silence, one that seems to stretch for an eternity. I clear my throat and open my mouth, but before I can formulate any kind of response, Jagger beats me to it.
“Things aren’t ever gonna go south between us, Mrs. Carter,” Jagger says, holding Cora’s gaze, his hand on the back of her neck. “She’s the love of my life. And if she wants to leave our house, that’s fine. I’ll grab Pudding and follow her.”
Dad snorts into his water glass. “Good man,” he murmurs.
“Well, I can’t help it that I worry about my daughter,” Ma grumbles, busying herself with cutting a piece of lasagna.
Cora and Jagger’s heads are bent toward one another, foreheads nearly touching as they share a private moment. Jagger’s hand still rests on the nape of Cora’s neck, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin. A soft smile pulls at Cora’s lips as she gazes up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with undisguised affection.
In that instant, they look like they’re the only two people in the world, caught up in their own little bubble of intimacy. It reminds me of the one and only time I had something similar.
Maybe. It’s hard to say if the attraction I felt to Eloise was as real as Cora and Jagger, or if it was a byproduct of adrenaline and post-traumatic euphoria. Which I didn’t even know was a thing until I looked it up one sleepless night a few weeks ago.
“I still can’t believe our sister is gonna marry a fuckin’ Reaper,” Graham mutters next to me.
“Don’t be a hypocrite now, brother. It’s not your color.”
“Are you fuckin’ serious right now?” he hisses from underneath his breath.
I glare at him. “Are you? We’ve got more important things to worry about than our sister’s relationship. If he becomes a problem, she’ll let us know.” I glance across the table at the people in question. I shake my head a few times and look back at Graham. “But I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”
“When has she ever come to us about anything ?” He’s quietly incredulous.
But I’m not sure where the fucking attitude is coming from. And I’m not about to tell him that she talks to me about shit now. It’s not usually super deep or anything profound. Usually she shares what she’s baking, weird things their cat does—normal shit.
Graham drops his gaze to his plate, stabbing at his lasagna with a bit more force than necessary. I can practically feel the frustration rolling off him in waves. He's always been protective of our sisters, but ever since Cora started dating Jagger, he's kicked it into overdrive.
I get it; I do. The thought of my little sister with any guy is enough to make my blood pressure spike. But at some point, he’s going to have to get over himself. We’re all adults here.
“I trust her, and she loves him. So lose the attitude or don’t.” I shrug, annoyance flaring underneath my skin. “But I’m done listening to you bitch about it. I’ve got a fucking Gauntlet to prepare for.”
I pull the linen napkin from my lap, the color snagging my attention once more. It’s a familiar shade of gold. Warm and endless, just like the eyes that have been haunting my dreams for weeks now.
Not for the first time, I wonder where the fuck Eloise is.