Dylan hangs his head. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing more I can say. All I can do is live my life every day, trying to make up for my mistake. I now know how precious time is. Ian taught me that. Ian made us closer than we ever were before. He made us stronger. And before he went in, he made us promise never to drift apart again.”

  “I didn’t promise him that,” I blurt out, angry at my brother.

  “I know, but I did, and I’m never going to give up on you. If I could go back and do the time instead of you, I’d fucking do it in a heartbeat.”

  “I don’t regret the time I did. I only regret that Ian’s in there now.”

  Dylan scrubs his hand down the side of his face, stopping to scratch his beard. “That was his choice. But you gave him ten years of life he wouldn’t have had otherwise.”

  “I can’t get the image of him being led away in handcuffs out of my head,” I admit and take a deep breath. The memory has been haunting me.

  “Ian’s tougher than he looks. Handcuffs are nothing compared to the shit he went through with his cancer. He is so much more than his illness. Luna made sure of it. She never left his side when he was sick, but once he was healthy, she made sure he got out and really lived every moment to the fullest.”

  “I’m happy he had someone in his life.”

  “Luna has her sights set on you,” he warns me.

  “I know.” I lean back, resting my palms against the bed. “How do I get her to stop?”

  Dylan laughs. “You can’t. She may be the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. It’s best to just give in.”

  “When did you become such a pussy?”

  My brother’s lip curls. “If loving a good woman makes me a pussy, I’ll accept who I am. But when did you become such an asshole? You were never this guy.”

  “Prison teaches you not to be nice.”

  “Look around, Nevin.” He lifts his arms, waving his hands. “You’re not in prison anymore.”

  “No shit, but it’s hard to change. I need more time to get used to being on the outside.”

  “Don’t take too long, before you alienate all the people around you who want to help.”

  “Maybe I don’t need help,” I say, staying true to my asshole personality.

  “We all need help, Nevin.”

  “Whatever,” I mutter.

  “Now,” he says, rubbing his hands down his jeans, “Ro wants me to invite you over for dinner tonight. She said she won’t take no for an answer, but beware, she’s a shit cook. I’ll do my best to order a pizza or something instead of choking down her slop.”

  I want to tell him no, but I’m fucking hungry, and the vending machine and the greasy diner across the street aren’t doing it for me anymore.

  “It would make Ro happy, and Luna will be there, of course. They rarely do anything without each other.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Sex?”

  Dylan shakes his head. “No, man. That shit isn’t even funny.”

  “Didn’t think it was funny, but it would be hot as fuck.”

  “They’re sisters, jagoff.”

  I shrug. “Whatever. I’m hungry, so I’ll come for the food.”

  But really, I want to see Luna. I want to talk to her about Ian and hear about the brother I barely know as an adult. What is he like? Is he really as happy as everyone makes him out to be?

  “Doesn’t matter why you come. All I know is Rosie will be happy. She was brought up believing family is everything. Be prepared to be sucked in by the Gallos.”

  “Oh, goodie,” I mumble. “Sounds extremely dull.”

  “Nah, Nev. They’re good people with good hearts. You’ll see.”

  “I don’t plan on hanging around.”

  “Are you leaving town?”

  I shake my head. “No, but I have my own life to live. I’m not going to become a third wheel in your Gallo love affair.”

  “I don’t want your ass at my house all the time. I enjoy my wife and my life. Luna’s enough to deal with on a constant basis. I don’t need to add another person.”

  “I’ll come.”

  “Be there at six. I brought my bike over on my flatbed. You can use it as long as you need, unless you have other transportation.”

  “It’s attached to me.” I move my feet back and forth. “They haven’t failed me yet.”

  “You get your license back?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can’t walk to my house.” He pulls out a slip of paper from his pocket and sets it along with a key on the table next to him. “Takes about twenty minutes to get to our place.”

  “I’ll be there,” I tell him, but I don’t move off the bed as I stare at the key.

  When he moves toward the door, I say, “Dylan.”

  He stops moving and looks over his shoulder.

  “Thanks, man.”

  He gives me a chin lift before opening the motel door and disappearing into the sunlight.

  Holy shit. My brother is giving me his bike to use. That’s a big move on his part. I know how much he loved his bikes, and no one was ever allowed to touch them. I haven’t ridden a bike in ten years, and I’m not sure I even remember how.

  I throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt I picked up at the thrift store the other day, trying to look decent for my brother’s uppity wife.

  “Hi,” Rosie says with a giant smile on her face.

  “Hi.”

  She moves back, motioning for me to come inside. “I’m so happy you came.”

  “Sure,” I mumble, kicking off my boots as soon as I’m in the foyer.

  I look around, stunned by the size of my brother’s place. He did well for himself. Not only is his wife high-class, his place is too.

  “Luna’s in the kitchen with Dylan, making some appetizers for us.”

  “Is she as good of a cook as you?” I ask Rosie.

  She walks in front of me, swaying her fine ass. I’ll give my brother that; he found himself a pretty chick with a smoking-hot body. “Your brother is the only one who makes anything that could be considered a decent meal. My sister and I are more about the pregame dinner experience.”

  “I can eat pretty much any horseshit.”

  “Then you’ve come to the right house,” she says as we walk into the kitchen, where Dylan and Luna are at the kitchen island, placing some tiny things on plates.

  “Just in time,” Luna says, greeting me with the warmest smile as she pulls off an oven mitt. “I hope you brought your appetite because we went a little crazy with all our favorite apps.”

  I soak it all in. The happy faces. The immaculate kitchen. The divine smell. It has been so long since I’ve been around anything even half as good as this.

  “I did.”

  “Good,” she says, grabbing a plate off the counter and heading my way.

  “Beer?” Dylan asks as he stands in front of the fridge.

  “Please.”

  Luna lifts the plate filled with tiny foods in front of me. “Try these. I made them just for you.”

  I stare at the tiny, round things, wondering what the fuck they are. As I reach forward, she pulls the plate back. “Any allergies? I should’ve asked before we started cooking, but I figured you would’ve had a fit.”

  “None. And I wouldn’t have had a fit.”

  She stares at me.

  “I wouldn’t.” My brother hands me a beer and shrugs.

  “If you were allergic to something, we would’ve rolled with it,” Luna says, thrusting the plate closer to my face.

  “Only things rolling are these into my stomach,” I tell her, grabbing one of the little puffs from the white plate.

  “It’s filled with feta and spinach.”

  “Feta?”

  “Cheese.” She rolls her eyes like I’m a moron.

  “Strong-ass cheese,” Dylan adds. “Fancy shit we never had in the house as kids.”

  Luna and Rosie gasp in unison.

  “You didn’t have feta?” Luna asks my brother.

  “We were lucky if we had a slice of that shit made from oil. Cheese was a luxury, and my dad wasn’t going to spend his cash on something that wasn’t necessary for survival,” Dylan explains.

  “But cheese is everything,” Rosie tells him.

  “These two are dramatic, yeah?” I ask Dylan.

  He nods. “More than you know.”

  “Don’t you like cheese?” Luna asks me as I stuff the pastry into my mouth and struggle to chew. The things are so hot, I’m not sure I’ll have a taste bud left once I swallow.

  “I do,” I tell her with my mouth full as I jostle the pastry around with my tongue.

  “How is it?” Luna asks, staring up at me with such hope.

  I choke it down and somehow don’t wince at the aftertaste the feta has left behind. “It’s great,” I lie. In this moment, I know I don’t like feta, and nothing can change my mind. Not even the sweet piece of ass offering it to me.

  “Good.” She smiles, offering me more. “Have another.”

  I peer over at Dylan, and he’s laughing his ass off. “It’s different.”

  “Way.”

  She shakes the plate, and I grab another, wondering if I should just let it burn off my taste buds this time. If everything we eat tonight is like this feta shit, maybe it’s better not to have any left on my tongue. But at least I have the beer to wash away the taste.

  “Sit. Sit,” Rosie says as she grabs something out of the fridge. “I made my guac and salsa. Luna said you loved it when she brought you some.”

  I look over at her, and she shrugs. She wasn’t around when I ate it, quickly leaving before I had a chance to dig in. “It was some of the best I’d ever tasted.”

  “Good because I made a ton,” she says, placing the biggest bowl of guacamole I’d ever seen in my life on the counter. “It’s not something that keeps well either.”

  I try to push away the uncomfortable feeling I have being here. I feel like I don’t fit in anywhere since I got out. Everyone moved on with their lives. Made something of themselves while I was stuck behind bars with my life on hold.

  “How are you settling in?” Rosie asks me.

  “Good.”

  “You’re welcome to stay with us. We have a guest room that we never use.”

  “I’m comfortable where I am.”

  “Leave him be. He’s happy where he is.”

  “No one’s happy at the Wayward Traveler.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Luna says. “I’m sure they have plenty of happy customers.”

  I lift my beer, knowing damn well there’re plenty of happy people based on the sounds coming out of the rooms. “She’s not wrong.”

  Rosie’s face sours. “Our place is cleaner, though,” she tells me as I fill my mouth with the best damn guac I’ve ever had.

  “My room is clean. I scrubbed that bitch down the first day.”

  “Smart,” Luna mutters as she grabs herself a beer from the fridge, bending in the most perfect way to give me a primo view of her ass and hips.

  As I sit here, I think about how I’ve been acting. I’ve been pissed, taking it out on Luna, Dylan, and anyone else who’s been around me. I’m not angry about prison. I made that choice to serve the time. I’m pissed that my brother is gone. But every person in this room, and many people not here, did everything they could to save his life.

  They brought him joy, and all I’ve been doing is stealing any sliver of happiness they have. Ian would slap me upside the head if he were still here, telling me to stop being such a prick. He wouldn’t be wrong.

  “I appreciate the offer, Rosie. It’s very nice of you, but you have your own life and I’m fine at the Wayward. I like having some space and privacy.”

  She smiles at me across the island. “If you ever change your mind, the bed’s waiting.”

  “I have a spare bedroom too, you know,” Luna adds. “I could use a roomie.”

  “I can’t move in with you,” I tell her, shocked she’d even make the comment casually.

  “Why not? Ro used to live with me, but when she moved out, I didn’t want to ask a stranger to live with me.”

  “I’m a stranger,” I say, which isn’t a lie.

  She shakes her head. “You’re not a stranger. You’re my brother-in-law and my best friend’s brother. Ian talked about you so much, I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  “He talked about me?” I ask.

  “All. The. Time. You were like his own personal superhero, Nevin.”

  I sit there, hand on my beer, stunned into silence for a moment. “I didn’t do anything heroic.”

  “You gave him time and freedom. There’s nothing bigger someone can do for another. He only said good things about you. I just want you to know you have options.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I mumble, trying to get her off my case. “I don’t know if I could live with a chick. Shit would get complicated.”

  “Pick up your dirty underwear off the floor, and nothing will get complicated,” she tells me.

  “Don’t wear any, remember?”

  “Me either.” She winks, and fuck me, my cock comes roaring to life more than it has since the day I stepped out into the fresh air.

  I push away the attraction, thinking of the worst shit I can to get rid of my wood. “Right now, I’m good.”

  “Offer stands,” she says, lifting another plate of apps and thrusting them toward me again. “Hanky panky?”

  I blink, staring at her. “What?” Is she offering to make out with me in front of everyone?

  “They’re little pieces of bread with meat and cheese melted on top.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding as I adjusted how I’m sitting to help my dick settle down. “Why not.” I shrug, picking a tiny piece.

  “I think some people call it shit on a shingle,” Luna says.

  “Looks like it,” I tell her before shoving it into my mouth. But I’m instantly greeted by familiar tastes that are better than anything I’ve eaten in close to a decade.

  “Those are good,” my brother says. “Better than most of the fancy things these two like.”

  “We’re not fancy, baby. Your taste in food is just bland.”

  “We ate to live, Ro. It wasn’t about the taste or nutrition.”

  “Shameful,” his wife mutters.

  “Survival was everything,” he explains.

  “I lived on canned tuna for years,” I tell them.

  “I can’t touch the shit anymore. Had it way too much as a kid, and it left me with nothing but bad memories,” Dylan adds.

  “It was one of my staples at the commissary.”

  “How horrible,” Luna says, frowning.

  “Trust me. It was a treat compared to the slop they gave us,” I tell her.

  “Did they have food brought in?” Rosie asks.

  My brother laughs. “I’m sure the meals were catered.”

  “The prisoners cooked everything. I couldn’t even tell you what some of the stuff was sometimes. But I survived.”

  “What’s the commissary?” Luna asks.

  “Kind of like a prison store.”

  “Oh,” she says, sliding onto the stool next to me. “That’s interesting.”

  “Not really. It’s all shit, but it’s better shit than you could get as part of your free room and board.”

  She snorts. “You’re kind of funny.”

  “You’re so innocent,” I reply.

  Rosie bursts into laughter. “Don’t let her cute face fool you. She’s the devil in disguise.”

  “Doubtful,” I tell her, wondering what it would be like to bang the fuck out of an innocent piece of ass like Luna Gallo.

  “I’m an angel,” Luna says, throwing one of the feta things at her sister.

  Although I want nothing more than to fuck Luna Gallo, I know I can’t risk ruining my brother’s marriage.

  I concentrate on the guac, trying not to stare at her slender, tanned legs as she sits next to me. Every time she shifts, I can’t help but wonder how soft her skin is and what those thighs would feel like wrapped around my face until I suffocated.

  I let them talk, nodding when I feel the time is right and grunting to add a little noise. But I keep my lips shut, soaking in all the information about them I can.

  They are good people.

  Too good for me.

  9

  LUNA

  Nevin squints against the sunshine as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. “We don’t have to do this today. You probably have better things to do.”

  I shake my head. “I go in late tonight, and I have my whole afternoon free.”

  “And you said, let me help a stranger?” He doesn’t release the cup as he stares across the table at me. “I’m sure you could’ve thought of something more fun to do with your free afternoon.”

  “Nope,” I clip out. “Nothing makes me happier than being able to help.”

  “I could’ve done this myself,” he lies.

  I push the thin newspaper to the side. “You learned how to search the internet for job listings in the last twenty-four hours?”

  “No,” he grunts.

  “Well, since most places don’t put want ads in newspapers anymore, you’re stuck with me until you’re up-to-date on technology.”

  “Up-to-date?” he asks, tilting his head. “I was never up-to-date.”

  “Did you have a computer at home before?”

  Nevin leans back, head still tilted and hand on his cup, staring at me across the table like I have two heads. “What do you think?”

  I shrug. “Didn’t everyone have a computer at home when we were in school?”

  Nevin closes his eyes, smiling. “Babe, you think my dad cared enough about us to buy an expensive machine for us to play on?”

  I grimace and swallow down my stupidity. “I just figured…”

  “Don’t assume anything when it comes to my childhood because it’s probably wrong.”

  “Sorry,” I whisper, tucking some of the strands of hair that have fallen free behind my ear as I peer down at my computer screen. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  There’s awkward silence for a few seconds as I think about my next words. I avoid eye contact, knowing damn well I’ll start babbling.