11. Brax
11
brAX
I roll to my side and open my eyes. Iris is in my bed, staring at me. “Hi,” I whisper, hoping my breath doesn’t knock her out.
“Hi,” she whispers back.
I tuck my hand under my head, wishing I could stay in my warm bed all day, but I know it’ll never happen. “Can’t sleep?”
“I slept.”
“What time is it?” I ask her, not wanting to move.
“Noon.”
I’ve slept later. If she weren’t here, I’d probably go back to sleep, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for today. “Come here.”
She slides across the bed, turning on to her side so her back is to my front. She sags against me the moment I set my arm over her middle.
“You okay? ”
“I think so,” she says.
“We’re still alive.” I state the obvious, but I think she needs the reminder that we’re okay now and will continue to be. I have full faith in my grandpa to fix things with Malakai on her behalf.
“For now.”
I tighten my arm around her. “For a long time, baby. Trust me.”
“I’m sorry Lucas has given me trust issues. You’ve done nothing except be good to me.”
Men like Lucas don’t deserve to breathe. They spend their entire lives messing up other people’s existences without thinking about how their actions will affect anyone except themselves. If I ever lay eyes on him, he may not be breathing for long.
“You’re fine,” I remind her because she apologized profusely last night, and I don’t want to go down that path again. “I’m not anything like Lucas, and you’ll realize that soon enough.”
Her fingers find the top of my hand, and she rakes her nails over the tender skin, sending goose bumps up my arm. “I already know you’re not anything like him. “
“Do you feel safe?” I ask against her ear.
“Yes,” she breathes, her body slack in my arms.
I groan as the sound of my phone vibrating on my nightstand fills the silence in the room. “Who would call at this hour? ”
“It’s noon,” she reminds me with a hint of laughter.
“It’s my day off, and everyone knows I like my sleep.” I keep my arm around her as I move our bodies to grab my phone. “Hello,” I say into the phone, holding it against my ear.
“Brax,” Gramps says, sounding way more awake and alert than I feel. “I made contact.”
“Do you sleep?” I ask him.
“It’s noon,” he replies, repeating Iris’s words. “Anyway, I talked to Malakai’s number two. We have a private meeting with him tonight.”
“In person?” I ask, a small lump forming in my throat. I thought a call would take care of it, but I should’ve known better. This is Malakai, and he likes to toy with everyone, even my grandfather.
“He never makes anything easy.”
“I guess not.”
“What happened?” Iris asks, and I pull the phone away, pressing speaker so she can hear our conversation.
“What time?” I ask him.
“Ten at his favorite pub.”
“What?” Iris asks as she turns her body and face so she can see me. Her eyes are wide, and her breathing has grown more ragged.
“It’s a good sign, doll,” Gramps says to Iris, because I’ve never been his doll. That’s always been reserved for the girls of the family. I’m kiddo or bud. All the boys are. It allows him not to have to remember any names since there’re more than a handful of us. “He agreed to a sit-down. He could’ve told me to kick rocks.”
“But this isn’t your problem,” Iris tells him.
“It’s not yours either,” he replies, instantly making her mouth close. “But now, it’s all of ours, though it won’t be for long. Malakai and I have a long history. It wasn’t always pretty, but we’ve been on solid ground for years. By tomorrow, this will all be a memory.”
“More like a nightmare,” Iris mutters softly.
“We’ll swing by and pick you up,” I tell him.
“Come at seven. Grandma says you need to bring your girlfriend over for dinner before I’m allowed to go.”
“You told her?”
“Well, yeah. Duh. The woman knows everything.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell Iris with a pained expression.
“Sorry? Don’t be sorry,” she says with graciousness.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Your gram makes the best eggplant parm in the city. Stop being so dramatic. It’s dinner, not an engagement party,” Gramps tells me. “Be here at seven.”
“It’s not going to take three hours to eat,” I argue, but I know it’s no use. If Gram says seven, it’s seven.
“You tell her that. She’s the boss, kiddo.”
“I love eggplant parm,” Iris says, taking it all in stride .
She may love the food, but she has no idea what she’s walking into. Betty Gallo is going to be filled with questions, and if she likes Iris, she’ll be planning our wedding before we even make it to the pub to meet Malakai.
“I have to go. Your gram wants me to take her to the store so she can start cooking. See you later.”
“Bye,” I say.
“Thank you,” Iris calls out before my grandpa hangs up.
“You’re most welcome, darling.”
Darling’s a new one.
“Oh. I forgot to tell you. Pike and Gigi are in town for the week. They’re coming to dinner too.”
Now, the darling comment makes sense. “Sounds good,” I tell him before he disconnects the call.
“Who are Gigi and Pike?” Iris asks as she moves to a seated position on the bed next to me with her legs folded underneath her body.
“Cousins from Florida.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows rise. “Is your family big?”
“Enormous, but don’t worry. Some of the pressure is off with them there tonight. My grandma won’t be able to question us relentlessly with witnesses.”
“Stop,” she says as she laughs. “You’re making your grandma sound scarier than Malakai.”
“I’m honestly not sure which one is scarier,” I say, pulling her toward me. “Betty can be something else. ”
“I can take it.”
I press my lips to her bare shoulder, wishing she weren’t wearing an old tank top and shorts of mine that are way too big on her. Somehow, she looks good in the raggedy old clothes. “I’ll remind you of that later.”
“I need coffee,” she says, killing any plans I have of having her for breakfast.
“I’ll make a pot,” I say against her shoulder, trying to keep the grumpiness out of my voice.
“Do you have good coffee?” She peers over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine.
“I don’t do half-assed coffee,” I lie.
Yesterday morning, I picked up what my mom said were the best beans you can get at the grocery store. And since Iris loved the coffee at Tilly’s bakery, I figured I’d listen to her advice. Before then, I did indeed have shit coffee in my cabinet, but Iris doesn’t need to know that.
“Take your time getting up, and I’ll get it started,” I tell her, untangling my body from hers.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she says as she rolls over, putting her palm under her head. Her eyes travel down the length of my body, and I can see the heat in her gaze. “I can’t go to your grandparents’ in this.”
I grab a T-shirt from my dresser and pull it on, hating that I put the thermostat so low last night. I wanted her to come to me for warmth, and my plan worked perfectly. “I’ll call my sister. She can bring some clothes for you to wear.”
“You’re too good to me.” She stretches, and the tank top she’s wearing rides up her stomach, exposing the skin I’ve been dying to taste.
“Never accept anything less, Iris.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I smile, but my eyes are locked on the stretch of her exposed stomach.
“Coffee,” she says when I don’t move right away.
“Got it,” I say, clearing my throat and spinning on my heel before my body decides to put on a show, giving away every dirty thought that’s going through my head.
An hour later, Tate’s at the kitchen island with a bag full of clothes for Iris to try on.
“So…” Tate says as she cups the hot mug of coffee in her hands. “Gram’s tonight?”
“Yeah.” I lean over the island, sipping on my second cup. “You two coming?”
“I think so. We have to see if Cheryl will watch the girls, but I’m pretty sure she’s a yes.”
“I could use some backup,” I tell her.
“She can’t be that bad,” Iris says, entering the conversation about Betty.
Tate laughs and reaches out, patting Iris’s hand. “She’s not bad, but she’s persistent—though, it’s worth it for her eggplant parm. But don’t eat anything else. ”
“Why?” Iris asks Tate.
“She’s an awful cook, but thankfully, she can make eggplant like an expert.”
“Really?” Iris asks, glancing between us.
“It’s true,” I tell her. “Eat only the eggplant.”
“Okay. Well, I’m excited about it, but I wish we weren’t going there for the reason we are,” Iris says.
“I still can’t believe it. Brax told me everything when he called, and I’m still in shock.”
“I’m trying not to freak out,” Iris tells Tate.
Tate lifts the mug to her lips, but before she takes another sip, she says, “Malakai is something else, but I know Gramps will get it fixed for you. He’s good at things like that.”
“His past is very…colorful,” I add.
“How colorful?” Iris asks with raised eyebrows.
“He’s been to prison,” Tate tells her. “But that was a while ago. It seems like he finally has his shit together.”
“Wow,” Iris whispers. “That’s scary.”
“He’s not dangerous. He’s not Malakai. He just took some stupid risks, looking to make a quick buck,” I explain.
“I’m glad he’s not dangerous,” Iris says.
“He’s too old to be a real threat, even if he were still in the life,” Tate says.
“You going to say that to his face?” I ask my sister, knowing she’d never have the guts to actually tell my grandfather he was too old for anything .
“Um, no. I’m not stupid.”
“Sissy,” I say with a smirk aimed at my sister.
“I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“Oh yeah, because you care about people’s feelings,” I tell her, remembering all the times she’s stomped on people’s feelings with her big black leather boots.
Tate lifts a shoulder. “Sometimes I care, sometimes I don’t. Anyway, I think I picked out a few cute things that will fit you perfect,” she says to Iris, changing the subject. “My grandparents won’t care. They understand the situation.”
“I don’t think I understand the situation,” Iris says with a pained smile.
“It’ll be over soon,” I tell her. “I promise.”
Her smile softens, looking more like her real smile. “I believe you,” she says as she slips off the stool and grabs the bag Tate brought. “I’m going to try on some of the clothes.”
“We’ll be here,” Tate tells her. “I’ll stay in case none of it works and I have to make a trip to the store.”
“I don’t want to be a bigger problem than I already am.”
“You’re not a problem. Go,” Tate says, lifting her chin toward the bedroom. “I’m waiting for a fashion show.”
“Great,” Iris mutters as she stalks toward my bedroom, struggling with the giant bag of clothes, but I do my best not to run to help her. She already feels helpless in this situation, and the last thing I want to do is make that feeling worse.
As soon as the bedroom door closes, Tate turns her stare on me. “What in the actual fuck?”
“I know. I know. It’s crazy,” I tell her, keeping my voice quiet so Iris doesn’t hear.
“Malakai is a nutjob.”
“Yep.”
“He’s so dangerous.”
“I know,” I tell her.
Tate scrubs her hands against her face. “She’s lucky she’s still alive.”
I nod.
“If she’d never met you and Gramps didn’t know him, she might not still be breathing.”
“Fate,” I whisper.
Tate sighs. “That’s some messed-up destiny.”
I shrug.
“What if Malakai won’t leave her out of it?”
My stomach turns at the thought. “Impossible.”
Tate stares at me without any emotion on her face. “For real?”
“He’ll understand.”
“For your sake and hers, I hope you’re right. I can’t believe her ex, who I knew was an asshole for leaving her at the altar, but this goes beyond anything horrible I thought about him. How stupid is he?”
“Dumber than we could’ve ever imagined. Iris is beside herself.” I dump the remaining coffee in my mug down the drain and place the cup in the sink.
Tate moves around the island to stand next to me. “If anyone can keep her safe, it’s you, baby brother. I can tell you’re worried, even if you won’t say it.”
I turn, resting my hip against the counter. “I know Malakai. I know he can be an asshole, but I refuse to believe he won’t listen to common sense about her relationship to Lucas. If he doesn’t, I’ll put myself between her and anything his men will throw at her.”
Tate’s face pales. “You really like her, huh?”
“I do,” I tell her, refusing to lie about my feelings. “Something different about her.”
“Aw, my brother’s in love.”
“It’s too early for that.”
“I told you, you’re marrying her.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop, Tate.”
The bedroom door opens, and we turn our heads toward the other side of the loft. Iris steps out, wearing a black sweater and skintight jeans.
“You wear that better than me,” Tate tells her.
I’m too busy gawking at the fit of the clothes and the outline of her body that they show.
“You don’t think it’s too tight?” Iris says, pulling a bit at the sweater.
“It’s perfect,” I tell her, my voice a little hoarse from the need that overwhelms me.
“If you say so,” Iris says softly.
“You’ll fit right in,” Tate adds .
“Is this the outfit I’m going to die in?” Iris peers up at us, her eyes shining less brightly than they usually do.
Tate hops off the stool and heads toward Iris, grabbing her hands as soon as she’s close enough. “Babe, look at me.” She waits a moment for Iris to gather herself. “You’re not dying today unless the universe has it out for you. I have faith in my gramps, and you should too.”
Iris stares at Tate with a slight quiver to her bottom lip. “Okay,” she whispers as Tate squeezes her hand.
I stalk across the loft, making quick work of the distance, until I’m next to them. “In a few hours, this will all be a memory,” I say, wrapping my hand around her upper arm and hauling her to my chest. “I promise it’s almost over.”
Iris curls her fingers around the material of my T-shirt as she nuzzles against my chest, placing the top of her head under my chin. “I believe you.”
Tate looks up at me, her eyes saying everything without moving her lips.
I’m a goner for Iris, and no matter how much I want to deny it, Tate may be right.
Iris just might be the one.