“My own father wasn’t even nice.”

  He’s getting heavy. His emotions are getting deeper in the silence of my apartment.

  “You deserved better.”

  He blows out a long breath. “I don’t know about that. Maybe I was paying penance for something.”

  “Like what?” I ask, slipping his first boot off, happy his socks are clean and he’s not a smelly guy.

  He scrubs a hand down his face. “Fuck if I know.”

  I make quicker work of the second boot, setting them next to the couch. “How many blankets do you want?”

  “One.”

  “Pillow?”

  “One.”

  I stalk away from him, kicking off my flip-flops as I walk, feeling the exhaustion taking over. I grab one pillow and one blanket from the closet in the hallway, fully expecting to find Nevin passed out by the time I get back.

  But to my surprise, he’s awake and sitting up.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, tossing the pillow on the couch.

  “I know you’re only being nice to me because of Ian, but I’m okay with it.”

  I unfold the blanket, placing it on him. “That’s not true, Nevin.”

  He grabs my hand before I have a chance to move away. “It is, and it’s okay. I still appreciate you doing this and taking care of me. Doesn’t matter why.”

  I curl my fingers around his and squeeze. “It’s not because of Ian,” I lie.

  If Ian were still around, I’m pretty damn sure Nevin wouldn’t have his ass on my couch. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be nice to Nevin, and if he were in trouble, I’d still help. Ian and Dylan have become like family, and by extension, so have their brothers.

  He releases my hand, lying back. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says, adjusting his body. “I promise.”

  “Just get some sleep.”

  He yawns. “Not hard on something so soft.”

  “Night.”

  “I’m sorry I’m drunk,” he tells me with the softest, sleepiest voice. “I’m not usually like this.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, not wanting to tell him that I like this softer side of him better. “Sweet dreams.”

  “Night, Luna,” he says as I switch off the light and head toward my bedroom, ready to pass out. “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”

  I smile to myself, wondering what the real Nevin Walsh is really like. I’m sure he’s not even sure, but he’ll eventually figure it out, and so will I. But for now, I’ll do my best to be there when he needs me since I know Ian would want me to because best friends are there for each other no matter what. But I have a feeling it won’t be that easy…nothing ever is.

  5

  LUNA

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  “God, life sucks without Ian around.” I sit on one side of the island in Rosie’s kitchen with my head propped up on my palm, elbow bent and digging into the unforgiving granite counter. “Everything is just a little less…” I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, picturing Ian’s smile.

  Rosie places her knife next to the cutting board but keeps a hand on the onion. “He’ll be back. Life won’t be the same for a while, but time will go fast, and it’ll be like it never happened.”

  “For us, it’ll go fast, but not for him.” I whisper the last part, watching Rosie as she goes back to chopping her onion and hopefully not her fingers.

  I can’t imagine how slowly each second must go by when sitting behind bars without any communication with the outside world. I don’t think I’d survive that kind of existence for a day, let alone months.

  “How’s Dylan doing with it all?” I ask, trying not to think about the solitude of prison.

  Her shoulders sag forward as she exhales. “He’s been in a shit mood. It’s taken a toll on him, but I can understand. If I had to live without you, even for a year, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “Hopefully we never have to find out.”

  She stares at me, waving the knife over the cutting board like she’s a cooking professional. “Someone’s going to go first, Einstein. We’re not going to live forever.”

  I’ve never thought much about death, but thanks to my sister, I’m smacked in the face with our future reality. It sucks. All of it sucks. I haven’t lived a day of my life without my sisters.

  I lean back, tapping my fingernails on the granite, and come up with the craziest scenario possible. “Maybe we’ll die together in a plane crash on our way to some exotic location when we’re really old and can barely walk.”

  She blinks, looking at me like I’m nuts, which I very well may be at this point. The last few weeks have taken a toll on my sanity. “You’re not right in the head, sis.”

  I nod slowly as I lift a glass of white wine to my lips, knowing I’m not playing with a full deck all the time. “Never claimed to be, but neither are you, babe.”

  “I’m normal,” she argues, and I snort out a laugh, earning myself an icy glare. “I’m the most normal out of the three of us.”

  “That doesn’t mean you’re normal by any means. You do better at hiding your crazy.”

  “Normal is overrated,” she says, lifting her knife again and going back to cutting the onions into perfect little pieces.

  “Sure is.” I watch her as she chops painfully slowly.

  We’re all shit cooks, a gene we clearly did not inherit. Even cutting vegetables is problematic, much to my grandmother’s dismay. I wish I had the patience or the ability to chop up shit, but I can barely heat a package of ramen without fucking it up.

  Rosie isn’t much better, but the only thing she’s good at is salsa and guacamole, and tonight, she’s making a big batch of both.

  “I was thinking…”

  “About?” she asks without stopping, keeping her head down so she doesn’t lop off a fingertip.

  “I should drop by Nevin’s. See if he needs anything.”

  That statement makes her stop dead in her tracks. Her head snaps up, eyes landing right on me. “Why?”

  I shrug. “I’m sure he could use a friend. It can’t be easy for him.”

  “He has his brothers.”

  I roll my eyes. “I have you too, but sometimes people need more than their own family. He’s surrounded by men, and maybe he could use a woman around too to teach him things.”

  Her eyebrows rise, and I know what she’s thinking without her saying the words.

  “Not like that.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “I promised Ian I’d look out for him.”

  “And how’s that going for you?”

  “He’s totally blown me off. I’ve called a few times. Left him a couple messages and texts, but he hasn’t texted back or called me…yet.”

  I haven’t seen him since I picked him up at the bar. By the time I woke up in the morning, he was long gone. No note. No message. Nothing. It was as if he was never there.

  “I think his silence is speaking loud and clear.”

  “The Walsh family isn’t known for their communication, Ro. Dylan’s the most talkative, and the man is practically a mute.”

  She tries to hide her laughter because she knows I’m right but hates to admit it.

  “He can’t ignore me forever,” I tell her. I won’t let him. If he’s anything like his brothers, he’ll sulk in his misery, wasting his freedom.

  “The little I know of Nevin, I don’t think your statement is true, Lu.”

  “You know I’m tenacious. Is he still living with his brothers?”

  “That’s one word for you,” she mutters. She shakes her head, moving on to the few almost overly ripe avocados sitting in a basket in front of her. “He found a small efficiency in town at the place on the corner near the new bookstore a few blocks from the shop.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “The Wayward Traveler?”

  So gross.

  “Yep. That’s it,” she says.

  “It’s a total shithole.”

  And when I say shit hole, I mean shit hole. I rarely see a car stay very long in the parking lot, and the customers that do hang around tend to pay by the hour instead of the month or night.

  She twists the avocado apart as I watch. “Nevin told everyone he wanted some time alone after spending years without any privacy. I’m pretty sure he would’ve lived in a cardboard box if it meant he could do it by himself.”

  “A cardboard box would be an upgrade from the Wayward.”

  “That ain’t no lie, but a guy like him doesn’t seem to care much about anything other than having a quiet place to lay his head.”

  “It can’t be quiet there,” I tell her, fingering the stem of my wineglass, trying to picture what the inside of a room at the Wayward Traveler must look like.

  “I’m sure it’s quieter than prison, and if it isn’t, at least the noises are a whole lot different.”

  We both giggle, knowing exactly what happens there, even if no one talks about it.

  “Maybe I’ll bring him a plant to brighten the place up a little.”

  She snorts. “I’m sure that’s exactly what he needs to make the place feel more like home.”

  I throw a stray piece of onion at her head. “What should I bring him, then, smarty-pants?”

  “Nothing. Leave the man be for a while. Just give Nevin a little breathing room. He’ll come around when he’s ready.”

  I sigh, leaning against the back of the chair. “I’m not the most patient person.”

  “Toddlers are more patient.” She chuckles this time, smiling up at me in between slices into the avocado.

  Dylan stalks through the front door, toeing off his boots before he breezes into the kitchen. He grunts at me, which is his way of saying hello, before kissing Rosie on the cheek. “Smells good,” he tells her.

  “Me or the food?” she asks, staring him straight in the eye.

  “Both,” he whispers as he kisses her cheek.

  “Ick.” I pretend to gag at their cutesy talk.

  They glance at me, but only Rosie speaks. “Button it up,” she orders.

  “Whatever,” I groan.

  “Where’s the baby?” he asks her.

  “Sal’s sleeping. He had a long day of eating and shitting.”

  “He’s a gold medalist at those.” Dylan sighs. “I need a beer.” He moves toward the fridge and grabs a cold one from inside. “Anyone else?”

  “Nope. We’re good. I hope you’re hungry. I’m making a lot tonight,” Rosie tells her husband as she goes back to finishing the guac.

  He nuzzles her neck but stays clear of her knife. “I’m starving, but babe, we can’t only eat salsa and guac for dinner. A man needs more than that to survive.”

  “I picked up some enchiladas from the place you love, so we can reheat them to go with the chips, salsa, and guac. I know my man needs more to live.”

  He moves back to her side, staring at her profile. “You’re the best.”

  “I know,” she replies, smiling.

  Only my sister can get away with picking up takeout and be praised for being the most amazing thing since sliced bread. The Walsh men aren’t hard to impress, especially since they grew up on boxed generic mac and cheese and the cheapest frozen meals possible.

  Dylan leans a hip against the counter, staying next to Rosie as he takes a swig of beer. I watch him as he downs half the bottle in a few quick gulps.

  “Seen your brother lately?” I ask my brother-in-law.

  He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and leans over the island. “Got to be more specific, Lu.”

  “Have you seen Nevin?” I ask again, being more specific as he requested, but he knew damn well which one I was talking about.

  “Nope,” he clips.

  “Talk to him?”

  “Yep.”

  “What did he say?” I ask.

  Dylan stares at me for a full ten seconds without answering before he finally asks, “What’s it matter?”

  “She promised Ian she’d look after Nevin,” Rosie explains before I can reply.

  Dylan lets out a low rumble. “Look after him? He’s grown the last time I checked and doesn’t need a babysitter.”

  I give Dylan the middle finger. “No shit. I don’t plan on babysitting him. I just want him to know he has people.”

  “He knows he has people,” Dylan tells me.

  “People besides you and his other brothers.”

  Dylan shakes his head as he moves the beer bottle back toward his mouth. “He’s fine, Lu. He’s a big boy. If he isn’t, he’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m sure he could use another friend.”

  “I think he had enough of those the last decade.”

  I purse my lips and bite down the shitty words that are dying to come off my tongue. “Maybe I’ll drop by and see him tonight. Maybe bring him some salsa and guac if Rosie can spare a little extra. Invite him to go shopping or something with me tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure that’ll go over big,” Dylan says sarcastically. “Every man’s dream is to go shopping with a woman.”

  Rosie elbows him hard enough that he lets out a loud humph. “You can take as much as you want and whatever you want, but I’m telling you right now, the man wants to be alone.”

  “Thanks, Ro. I’m sure he’ll love a homemade snack,” I say, ignoring their unsolicited advice.

  “Not the enchiladas, though,” Dylan adds, pointing to the boxes of takeout. “Those are staying here.”

  “Whatever,” I grumble as I raise the wine to my lips to polish off the small amount left in my glass. “Their enchiladas are only okay. You can keep them.”

  “Wasn’t giving them up,” he replies.

  “You never answered my question,” I say to Dylan.

  “Which was?”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “What did Nevin have to say? Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. He has a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in. There’s nothing else the man wants.”

  “A woman…” Rosie giggles. “Ten years is a long time without one.”

  “Pretty sure there’re plenty of those around his place too,” Dylan says with a salacious smile.

  “He deserves better than a prostitute,” I sneer.

  “Nevin never had trouble with the ladies, Lu. I’m sure he isn’t going for dirty pussy when he can pretty much have his pick,” Dylan says, as if he’s talking about picking out fruit at the grocery store and not sex.

  “You’re an asshole,” I mumble.

  “What’d I say that wasn’t true?”

  I slide off the stool, pissed off for some strange reason, and head to the cabinet, pulling out two containers. “Nothing,” I snap.

  “Lu, what’s wrong?” Rosie asks.

  I set the plastic bowls on the counter next to her, tapping my foot. “Nothing.”

  “Uh, yeah. That ain’t going to fly. I know you better than anyone else, and I know when you’re pissed. And you’re pissed.”

  “I’m not.”

  She stops mashing the guac as she stares at me. “Want to try that again? You got a thing for Nevin?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know the guy, Ro. How am I supposed to have a thing for him?”

  She shrugs. “Fuck if I know, but you don’t usually get so upset about something so stupid.”

  I lean over, rubbing one side of my head. “I don’t know why I’m so upset about it. He’s not my man. I just feel like he deserves more…something better after everything he gave up for Ian.”

  “He does deserve better, and right now, the man wants a little time to himself and some peace and quiet.”

  “I can be quiet.”

  Dylan scratches his beard, staring at me like I’m crazy too. Something he and my sister have in common. “Whatever you want to do, Lu. Just know he’s not going to be overly excited to have uninvited company.”

  “Who said I’m staying?” I push the containers toward my sister, wanting her to fill them so I can get out of there. “I’m just going to drop off some food and run. Everybody has to eat.”

  “So, you aren’t going to stay and talk?” Dylan asks.

  “No.” I don’t even convince myself with that one-word answer.

  “Maybe Nevin would like company tonight, baby. You never know. Your brother’s not the same person you knew when you were younger.”

  “I left so long ago, and he was so young. I don’t know who he really was then, and I certainly don’t know who he is now. Watch yourself, Lu. Just because he once did something honorable doesn’t mean he’s a nice guy now. Don’t go over there with any grand illusion that you two are going to become best friends like you did with Ian.”

  I cross my arms, glaring at Dylan even though his words are coming from a good place. “I have no grand delusions or illusions that Nevin and I will be friends, let alone best friends. I’m being nice.”

  “As long as we’re on the same page about expectations,” Dylan says, pulling on his beer with his smug lips.

  I take the spoon from Rosie and fill the two containers like I’m in a competition that’s based more on speed than accuracy.

  She watches in stunned silence as guac and salsa go flying. She’s seen every mood I have, and she knows when it’s best not to engage. And she’s not engaging.

  “I’m not an idiot, Dylan. I’m sorry you never had many people be nice to you in your life, but this is what my people do.”

  “Be careful. Call me later,” my sister says before I have a chance to make an exit.

  “Love you,” I tell her.

  “Love you too,” she says back.

  “Love you too, Lu,” Dylan says to me.

  And even though I’m annoyed and unusually cranky, I still say to him, “Love you too, asshole.”

  I stopped by Nevin’s motel room on the way home from Rosie’s, but no one answered. I sat in the parking lot, watching the people come and go for a half hour before I gave up and headed home.

  I am about to drop my phone onto the bed, but something stops me. I press on Nevin’s name and call him. Six rings and nothing except the basic voice mail greeting. He hasn’t bothered setting up a personal one yet. And from the little I know about Nevin, I doubt he ever will.

  When there’s a long beep, I start talking, “Hi, Nevin. It’s Luna again. Just wanted to check on you and invite you to my grandparents’ for dinner tomorrow. It’s totally casual, but there’s tons of homemade food. I’ll try texting you in—”