Chapter 11
JONAH
Istretch out on my bed, waiting for my girl to get dressed.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Ellie calls from the closet—for about the tenth time since she started getting ready.
“Why would I mind, darlin’? You deserve to go have fun.”
I’m only partly lying. Do I mind spending the evening with Lucas and my brothers? Hell no. Do I mind her having fun? Of course not.
Am I thrilled with the idea of her going out dancing and drinking without me, looking like a goddamn wet dream? Absofuckinglutely not.
But my little sister was insistent. Jules said enjoying girl time was essential.
Plus, the minute she brought up the idea of them going dancing, Ellie’s entire face fucking lit up like a little kid at Christmas.
I get the feeling that she wasn’t allowed to have many friends in the sham of a marriage she suffered through for so long.
She’d only been seventeen when she got pregnant, making her miss out on plenty of early twenties revelry.
So I can bite my tongue and put up with being without her for a night.
Besides, the Barlowe boys have connections at every drinking establishment in two counties. I already called ahead to the club they’re planning to hit first, and my buddy Gio, who bartends there, is going to keep an eye on things for me.
I still don’t fucking like it, though. Especially once she comes out of her closet looking like that.
I groan, rubbing the stubble on my chin. “You’re fucking killing me, Ellie.”
“Why?” she looks down at her clothes, a sinfully short little black dress. It’s not overly sexy—there’s a lacy bit at the top that hides her cleavage and the fabric isn’t skintight. But it is short, showing off miles of the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.
“You don’t think it looks nice?”
“I think it looks too nice,” I mutter, my eyes locked to the curve of her thighs. “The idea of you going out wearing that makes me feel insane.”
My gaze flicks up to her face just in time to catch the flash of fear in her eyes. “I can change,” she says in a small voice, already backing to the closet. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to—”
“Hey, hey, hey,” I’m across the room and taking her hands before she can take another timid step back. “What the hell just happened?”
She won’t meet my eyes. “I don’t…I don’t want to make you mad. If you don’t want me to wear the dress—”
Cold realization washes over me, leaving a sick feeling in my gut. “He didn’t let you dress up, did he?”
Her breath comes out in a shudder and God, I want to break shit with my bare hands.
“No. If he was with me, he liked to show me off. But if I tried to wear something like this without him around?” She shakes her head, that fucking fear still in her eyes.
“He would have lost it. Hell, he wouldn’t have let me go out with friends regardless of what I was wearing. ”
Part of me wants to press her on what “lost it” means, specifically, but I don’t really need to.
I would bet money on the fact that she’d been hit because the asshole didn’t like what she was wearing.
Or because she dared to try to do something for herself, or put herself into a position where she might garner interest from other men.
She’s been slowly opening up to me over the last few weeks, telling me more and more about the abuse.
She’s still clearly embarrassed to give me any details—which makes me more pissed off than just about anything.
She has nothing to be embarrassed about.
Her ex is the only piece of shit in this scenario.
Though I’m feeling pretty shitty myself for putting that look on her face, for acting in any way that could be misconstrued as being like him.
“You look fucking amazing in this dress,” I tell her, letting my voice dip low to show her my appreciation. “It would be a damn shame for you to change it.” I pull her closer, bringing my mouth to her neck, loving the way her skin pebbles with goosebumps when my warm breath rushes over it.
“I’m just grumpy because my dick is going to be fucking painful all night.” I nip at her earlobe and she shivers. “I’ll be planning out every single filthy, sinful thing I want to do to this body when you get home.”
She laughs, the sound shaky. Fuck, I love knowing that I’m affecting her. “I’d like to remind you that you’ll be watching a very over-excited five-year-old. So there might not be much time for the dirty fantasies.”
I nip her ear again. “I’m very good at multitasking.”
She melts against me, the softest whimper escaping from her throat, and I wonder if there’s time for a quickie before the girls get here.
My brothers are downstairs already, agreeing to join me and Lucas for a guys’ night while the girls are out, so I know the kid is taken care of down in the kitchen.
I could flip up her skirt and be inside her in two seconds—
“Are you guys kissing again?” Lucas shouts from the doorway. “That’s so gross.”
“You won’t always feel that way, kid,” Sawyer says from behind him, giving me a pointed look. “We came up to tell you that the girls are here.”
I curse under my breath as Ellie straightens, pulling herself away from me and giving her kid a bright smile. But her cheeks are flushed and I allow myself a moment of smugness knowing that she’s feeling the same disappointment that’s coursing through my veins.
“You have your cell phone?” I ask as we follow Lucas and Sawyer to the stairs. “It’s charged?”
“All charged. I even have a portable battery pack, just in case.”
“You’re going to stay with the girls the whole time, right? No going off on your own?”
She reaches over to squeeze my hand. “No going off on my own.”
I bite my tongue. I want so badly to go over another dozen safety procedures—God, I really don’t like the idea of her being somewhere without me—but I don’t want to freak her out.
The whole point of this is for her to have a normal, fun experience.
She’s had enough fear to last her a lifetime, and I don’t want to put more on her shoulders.
I just really, really want her to be safe tonight.
There’s a flurry of girlish squeals and hugs when we get to the landing.
Growing up with a houseful of boys—and a little sister who wanted nothing more than to be one of the guys—I never really had much experience with the whole girly-girl thing.
Sawyer rolls his eyes at the noise but honestly, I think it’s kind of nice.
The happy look on Ellie’s face is enough to overcome any annoyance at the increased noise.
“Girls are loud,” Lucas mutters to me, sounding almost awed, and I laugh.
“You’re going to be good for Jonah, right?” Ellie says, bending down to meet his eyes. I see my twin’s eyes flick over her legs—far more exposed in this position—and I growl at him. He laughs, rolling his eyes, and the urge to punch his stupid face intensifies.
“Duh,” Lucas says. “You don’t have to worry, Mom, I’m not a baby.”
“He’s a grown-up dude, Ellie,” Nick agrees, ruffling his hair. “And tonight we’re doing grown-up dude stuff.”
Lucas crosses his arms, little chest puffing out, and I realize his stance looks an awful lot like Nick’s.
I stifle a laugh. Ever since my sister’s boyfriend let him sit on one of his motorcycles—when it was safely parked in the middle of his restoration shop—Lucas has talked about the guy with something bordering on hero worship.
“What kind of grown-up dude stuff are we talking?” Ellie asks.
I give a dramatic mock-gasp. “We can’t tell you that! It goes against the bro code.”
Lucas looks delighted. “Yeah, Mom. Bro code.”
Ellie’s musical laugh fills the kitchen, and fuck, something throbs in my chest, filling me with the strangest warm ache.
The last few weeks have been the happiest I can remember.
It’s not just having the hottest woman alive in my bed.
It’s this—hearing her laugh, joking around with her kid, integrating the two of them more and more into my life.
I never once imagined wanting something like this. I figured my life would continue on in the same general path it always has—work my ass off at the bar, chill with my brothers, and hook-up with whatever interested woman appealed to me.
The whole playing house thing? Not at all on my radar.
My siblings and I didn’t grow up with a picture-perfect home life.
I had no examples of what it took to be a good partner or a good parent figure.
The examples we did have—screaming fights, neglect, drug use, abuse—made me want nothing more than to find some stability and peace when we got out.
Security and well-being were fantasy stories.
The idea that I might be able to provide those kinds of things for someone should be laughable.
But it doesn’t feel all that unattainable, not as I watch Ellie grinning while my little sister compliments her dress.
Not when Mac shows up, joining the crowd in the kitchen with his arms laden with snacks and beer, and ruffles Lucas’s hair as he passes, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
They fit here. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but they do.
And maybe four whiskey-swigging, bartending, overgrown man-child Barlowe brothers aren’t the most obvious role-models for a kid, but I’ll be damned if all of my brothers—including Nick— haven’t stepped up to be there for this kid and his mom.
“You okay?” Ellie asks softly, sliding up next to me.
I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Yeah, darlin’. I’m just fine.”
“Your face is all soft.”
I laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Now don’t go saying that too loud. I could do without my brothers ragging on me all night.”
“You’re happy?” she whispers into my ear, sounding hopeful.
“So happy.” I kiss her again, on the mouth this time, and she melts into me like always, the kiss deepening between us until Trisha starts complaining about me ruining Ellie’s make-up.
“Not to mention it’s disgusting to see my brother with his tongue in someone’s mouth,” Jules says, shuddering. But she can’t quite pull of the grimace—my sister is happy for me, and it’s written all over face.
“Can we get out of here?” Julianna’s best friend Arden asks. “We’re missing out on good dancing time here.”
“Be good,” Ellie says again to Lucas as Trisha slips an arm through hers and pulls her to the door. Her eyes go up to mine, and I see worry in them. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Sometimes he has trouble falling asleep if he had too much to eat so make sure you cut off his snacks before—”
“Ellie, we’ve got this,” I cut in. “Just go have fun.”
“Not too much fun,” Nick grumbles, pulling Jules in for one last kiss. I make a face—maybe Lucas had a point about kisses being gross, at least when it comes to one’s sister.
“All right, get out of here,” Sawyer says, glaring at the guy touching our sister. He turns to Lucas and holds out a fist for him to bump. “We have many manly things to do tonight, right buddy?”
“Right,” Lucas agrees, looking like his birthday and Christmas both came early. “Super manly.”
“You’re going down, kid,” Mac says, glaring at Lucas over his hand of cards.
The little boy scoffs, the movement making the Twizzler he has clamped between his teeth like a cigar jiggle. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Drink up, boys,” my twin says, approaching the table with his arms full of brown bottles. “Who needs another?”
“Hit me,” Mac says, raising a hand.
Nick chews on the end of the Twizzler in his mouth, his sharp gaze studying his cards. “It all comes down to this, boys. The main event.”
“For all the marbles,” Lawson agrees, taking a bottle from Sawyer.
“You’re all doing a lot of yapping,” I point out, using the table edge to pop the lid off my bottle. “Makes me think those cards aren’t as good as you want us to believe.”
Mac grunts. “My cards are exceptional, kid.”
“Mine too,” Lucas says, mirroring my older brother’s tone. “Exceptional.”
I laugh and ruffle his hair. “That’s my little card shark. You ready?”
He stares at his hand with deep concentration before setting his level gaze on Lawson. “Do you have any fives?”
My brother groans and hands over two cards, making Lucas whoop with joy. “You’re all going down!”
“Big talk, little man,” Mac grumbles.
Lucas turns his devious little smile on him. “You got any twos?”
Mac grins widely. “Go fish.”
“You realize you’re antagonizing a five-year-old, yeah?” Nick asks, but Mac waves him off.
“I came to win, son.”
I laugh as I take a sip of my root beer. If this night proved anything, it’s that there’s no limit to the Barlowe boys’ competitiveness. A few hands ago, it looked like Lawson and Sawyer might actually come to blows. Over a damn kid’s game.
We play until Lucas’s head is bobbing over his cards. It’s only twenty minutes past his bedtime—Ellie agreed he could stay up if he was being good—but apparently the excitement of the evening was too much for him.
“But I don’t want to go to bed,” he whines as I pull his chair back. “I’m having…” he interrupts himself with a massive yawn. “I’m having too much fun.”
“Don’t worry, little man,” I tell him. “We’ll do this again soon.”
I catch my twin looking at me with an unreadable expression but I don’t have time to decipher it. The kid is practically falling asleep on his feet. I heft him up into my arms, figuring it will be easier than getting him to walk down the hall, and now it’s not just Sawyer who’s looking at me funny.
“Say goodnight,” I tell Lucas.
“Night, guys,” he says sleepily, his head falling onto my shoulder.
I manage to get his teeth brushed and him into his PJs before he’s completely out of it.
Normally he begs for a dozen stories before he goes to sleep but tonight his eyes are closed as soon as his head hits the pillow.
I ruffle his hair and turn on his nightlight.
I’m walking to the door when he calls out to me.
“Night, Jonah,” he says sleepily. “Love you.”
I freeze a few feet from the door. He’s never said that to me before.
Christ, I can count on one hand the number of people who have ever used those words, and all but one of them are down in the kitchen right now.
Even among my siblings it isn’t something we say all that often.
There’s not a doubt in my mind that any of my brothers—or even Jules—would put their life on the line for me. But words have never been easy for us.
And here’s this kid, this kid who barely knows me, tossing out those words like it’s the easiest, most natural thing in the world.
Maybe it should be.
“Love you too, buddy,” I say, my voice gruff. His only response is a muffled snore.