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“Now how was I supposed to ignore that, man? I couldn’t, and you know it.”
Trey read through the texts—texts that clearly Clay had sent because more than a few words were either misspelled or autocorrect had been having fun—and they’d all come from Travis’s phone, the night of Trey’s first date with Ressa. It had taken a couple of weeks, but Sebastian had done exactly what Trey suspected he’d do.
He’d shown up on his nephew’s door.
Kids at scool dont beehive your my uncle.
Beehive? Trey smiled a little even as he mentally translated the autocorrect. Believe.
Sebastian’s response was simple.
Dude, I don’t believe you’re my nephew—you’re too awesome for me or Trey.
Damn the idiot. He couldn’t even be mad at him now.
Your fu
The rest of the conversation went on that way and he shoved the phone back to Sebastian with a sigh. “I expect you feel about the same way I do, knowing kids are teasing him. But he also has to learn that he does have to . . .” He stopped, shaking his head.
“What?” Travis asked. “He’s in kindergarten. He’s got two famous uncles—and hell, his dad is an author. He’s proud of you. He wants people to know. It’s not like he’s bragging. He was just telling the truth and kids were mean.”
“People are going to be mean to him in life,” Trey said, frustrated. “Sebastian and Zach can’t always rush to his side to be there when somebody gives him grief.”
“And I’m not going to,” Sebastian said, shrugging. “But right now, he’s . . . fuck. He’s not even six years old. He’s in kindergarten, probably nervous about school. It’s gotta be hard on him, man. He—” Sebastian stopped, clamping his mouth shut and looking away.
“If it’s about Aliesha, don’t think I’m not aware,” Trey said tiredly, shaking his head. “The first day of school, he took off out of the classroom because so many kids had their moms there.”
“And that’s why I wanted to come,” Sebastian said softly. “He’s going to have some bumps and bruises already. I had the time. I don’t get to see him much anyway. What does it hurt? And if it helps him to feel better about himself? That’s a good thing, right?”
“Okay.” He blew out a breath and tipped his head back. “I guess I see what you mean there.”
“Excellent.” Sebastian gave him a wide smile. “Because I’d like to drop him off at his school on Monday.”
Trey’s answer was cut short by his phone ringing. Immediately, his heart did a hard and heavy slam inside of him, because that slow, lazy jazz tune was one he’d programmed for Ressa.
“What the—”
He didn’t even realize he’d half lunged across the kitchen until that moment, nor did he care.
All that mattered was that she’d called.
“Hello?”
There was a faint, hesitant pause.
“Trey. It’s . . . ah . . . Hi. It’s Ressa.”
“Hi.” Breathe. You have to breathe. That in mind, he drew in a deep careful breath, then blew it out, slow and easy. Didn’t do a damn thing to calm the sudden ragged rhythm of his heart, though.
“Are you . . . look, I feel like a heel doing this, but I need a favor. It’s huge and I’m sorry, especially after . . .”
Now his heart twisted—no, he thought maybe it shriveled. “What do you need, Ressa?”
“I have to go see my cousin,” she said, her voice now subdued. “I . . . she called last week and asked my aunt and me to come out. It was . . . well, I talked to her a few hours before I talked to you. There’s something going on and we have to go see her. We had arrangements but they fell apart and now . . . look, I can’t take Neeci out there. It messes her up too bad.”
“Bring her over.” He was proud to hear that he managed to keep his voice level. Completely straight. Nor did he lapse into a fit of begging. “Clay would love to see her.”
Then, before she could say anything else, he disco
Carefully, he put the phone down and before his brothers could say anything, he walked out.
He had probably twenty minutes—maybe a few less, because Ressa wasn’t much on taking her time behind the wheel.
He would need every last one of those minutes to try to make it look like he wasn’t totally falling apart inside.
* * *
Baffled, Sebastian stared at the rigid line of Trey’s back as he disappeared down the hall.
“What the fuck was that?” he demanded. Then he jerked back as Travis rapped his head. “Hey!”
“Watch your mouth,” Travis advised. “Clay is going to be up at any minute.”
“Fu . . . yeah. Okay.” Rubbing his skull, he glared at Travis through slitted eyes. “What’s up? And don’t tell me nothing. You two have been pissed at each other all week. He’s been dragging like something tore up all his books and now . . . Son of a bitch.”
This time he moved back in case Travis tried to smack him, but Travis just scowled at him. Hands on his hips, Sebastian studied Travis—the one who used to be the fu
“It’s a woman, isn’t it?”
Travis’s only response was a sigh. He stared down into his coffee, brooding.
“Aaaaa
“You should ask Trey all this,” Travis pointed out. Then he slanted a hard look at him. “Except . . . don’t. They aren’t in a good place right now so leave him alone.”
“Well, maybe he needs to talk about it.”
Travis rolled his eyes. “And you’ve been the hey, let’s talk guy since . . . when?”
“He’s my brother, too,” Sebastian said quietly, rising from the stool and moving away. “Yeah, maybe I’m not as close to him as you are. But he’s still my brother. I still love him.”
“Damn it, Seb!”
But Sebastian just shook his head. Seemed like not a damn thing he did lately went right. He’d just go back to his room. Crash there—
“Uncle Sebastian! Hi! Wa
Looking up, he saw the cute, sleepy eyes staring down at him from the second floor landing. He managed to smile. Well, okay. Yeah, maybe he didn’t piss off everybody.
* * *
Her hands were shaking.
This is ridiculous.
She was half-afraid to even walk up to that door and she kept replaying that conversation over and over in her head. How Trey’s voice had gone from warm . . . almost . . . she didn’t know how to describe the low, almost intimate sound of his voice, but she knew how to describe the shift it had taken after she’d started babbling.
I’m not ready to talk relationships, honey, but hey, I need a favor . . .
He’d gone cool on her. Oh, he was polite.
And it had ripped the heart out of her, because she knew what that cool tone hid.
She’d hurt him.
As she opened the door, she looked at her aunt. “I’ve got . . . I’ve got a few minutes, don’t I?”
“A few.” A faint smile curved her aunt’s lips. “As much as I want to get out of this car, I’m not going to. Not right now. Ressa . . . listen to your heart, okay? Not your fear and not your common sense.”
She nodded and closed her hand around Neeci’s. “Let’s get you inside. Bet you’re ready to see Clay.”
They started to walk, but Neeci was dragging her feet. “But . . . but I think Gra
“Meet who?” Ressa asked, frowning.
The door opened and Clayton came tumbling out—he was walking backward and he had both hands wrapped around the much larger hand of somebody else—a somebody else who wasn’t Trey. Or his twin.
“Come on. I want you to meet my best friend.”
“Okay, okay . . .” The man’s voice was smooth, easy, and he laughed as Clayton dragged him along. He wasn’t exactly fighting.
“Come on!” Clayton said again.