Neither of us had clean hands if we were speaking metaphorically.

  “What do the boys call you?” Frankie asked, butting into our conversation. “It’s something funny.”

  “Oh, I know it.” Lou cackled. “Um—”

  “Wanker,” my little sister called out from behind my best friend’s shoulder. “They call him Wanker.”

  “Fuck’s sake, Myla,” Cian complained, glancing back at her.

  “Hey, I didn’t give you the nickname.”

  “Caught you with your pants down, did they?” Frankie asked, giggling.

  “No.” Cian glared at me, even though he’d gotten the name years before I’d joined the club.

  “What do they call you?” Frankie asked, leaning toward me.

  “Titus,” I replied dryly.

  “Oh, bullshit,” she argued. “Everyone has nicknames.”

  “Road names,” Myla corrected quietly.

  “Not everyone.” I shook my head. A lot of the boys had road names, but not all of them. They came organically from the old-timers. It wasn’t as if you could ask them to give you a name—you had to wait for it. Sometimes, it was better not to have one…case in point, Wanker.

  “I’m beat,” Cian grumbled, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m gonna head out.”

  “Already? It’s early,” Myla complained.

  “It’s fuckin’ loud in here.”

  “So, let’s just go back to your place,” she replied easily, getting to her feet.

  “You mean my place?” I asked with a huff.

  “Cian and Bas live there, too.” She waved me off. “Bas, you wanna go back to the house? Cian’s tired.”

  My other best friend turned from where he’d been chatting up some redhead, his eyes soft as they landed on my sister. I cleared my throat as Cian stiffened next to me.

  “I’m down,” Bas agreed. He turned back to the pouting redhead as the girls started putting on their coats and grabbing their shit.

  “Where’d Jamo go?” I asked, looking around for my cousin. Jamison rarely came out with us and always ended up disappearing with some random woman halfway through the night. He sometimes made it back before we left, though.

  “He said not to wait on him,” Frankie said with a huff, shaking her head. “He took off a while ago.”

  “Of course he did,” I mumbled.

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Frankie joked. “I’ll keep you company.”

  “Lou’s ridin’ with me,” I said, grabbing her by the arm as we headed toward the front.

  “We’re all going to the same place. You can’t avoid Frank for long,” Lou joked, bumping me with her hip.

  “Watch me.”

  “Aw, Titus,” Frankie called as she followed Bas to his bike. “I’m hurt.”

  “We gotta stop drivin’ your asses around,” I grumbled, letting Lou climb onto my bike like she’d been doing it her whole life. “One of these nights, someone’s drunk ass is going to fall off the back.”

  “You could add one of those little backrests,” she replied cheerfully as I handed her a helmet.

  “Fuck you.”

  “They’re cute!”

  By the time we were following Bas out of the parking lot, Lou was all business behind me, holding me tight around my waist. She acted pretty nonchalant, but out of the three musketeers, she was by far the most cautious. While Myla and Frankie were going hell-bent for leather Lou was always the one hanging back a bit, taking everything in and thinking shit over. My parents always said if it wasn’t for Lou, they would’ve been bailing Myla and Frankie out of jail by the time they were sixteen.

  My dad had been flipping houses since before I was born and it had become tradition for him to let each of us kids buy one of his fixer-upper houses from him for a steal when we were old enough and settled enough to pay him back. My oldest brothers Mick and Rumi both chose houses in neighborhoods, the next oldest, Otto, had picked an old farmhouse on something like ten acres, and my house was a bit in between. The house was big, way bigger than I needed, and it was on a little over two acres at the end of a paved road. I was close enough to town that it only took a few minutes to get anywhere I needed, the neighbors were far enough away that I couldn’t see them from the front porch, and there was a little creek that ran across the back of the property that was a nice swimming hole during the summer.

  I could afford the place by myself, considering the terms my dad had set and the side work I was pulling on top of my regular salary but the house was way too big for one person. Thankfully, Cian and Bas had been renting some shitty apartment in town and were more than happy to rent rooms at my place instead. It worked out well for everyone.

  Especially since I rarely had to come home to an empty house—which I loathed.

  By the time we pulled into the driveway, Frankie had already hopped off Bas’s bike and was rolling up the garage door so we could all pull our bikes inside for the night. All of the girls knew the key codes for the garage—just in case—and while sometimes it was annoying when I came home to find them raiding my fridge, more often than not it was helpful that they could get in and out of my place. Like when they opened up that garage for us and none of us had to get off our bikes.

  “Myla’s still pissed at you,” Cian murmured as we followed the girls into the house.

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “This about that guy grabbin’ her ass?” Bas asked. “He’s lucky it was you and not me that got to him first.”

  “You saw it?” Cian asked, glaring.

  “Hard to miss it,” Bas replied easily. “I was just down the bar.”

  Bas was well over six feet tall. I had a feeling he could see pretty much anything in a crowd at any given moment. I glanced over at him and smirked. Between the size of him, the piercings and the tattoos, I had a feeling the asshole who’d groped Myla really would’ve pissed himself if my friend had stepped in. When I’d first met Bas, he’d had more piercings in his face than any human I’d ever seen. Over the years, after he’d patched in and settled into his place at the club, most of the piercings had disappeared one by one. He still had a ring through his bottom lip, a septum ring, and a little barbell through the skin at the bridge of his nose. I had a feeling those piercings weren’t going anywhere. He didn’t exactly look warm and cuddly.

  “I don’t know why she was so worked up about it,” I said, walking toward the door to the kitchen. “All I did was scare him.”

  “Your baby sister doesn’t like it when you fight,” Bas said with a sigh, his mouth pulled up in a grin.

  “It wasn’t a fight,” I replied as I stepped inside the house.

  “Only because I stopped you,” Myla said, glaring at me around the refrigerator door. “Do you have any of those frozen gyoza left? I want some.”

  “That pussy wasn’t goin’ to fight me and they’re on the bottom shelf.” I pointed. “Why are you always eating my food?”

  “Because you always buy the good shit.”

  “For me.”

  “Oh, zip it,” she replied, her head inside the freezer. “Found them!”

  “Make some for me, yeah?” Bas asked. “I’m gonna turn on some music.”

  “None of that moany bullshit you like,” Frankie called to him as she danced back into the kitchen. “Play something good.” She turned to me. “I swear to God, Titus, I almost get lost in your house every time I try to find a bathroom.”

  “It’s not that big,” I argued. I needed a drink. Whenever the girls went out with us, we inevitably became their designated drivers. Now that I was in for the night, I was cracking open the bottle of whiskey I’d grabbed on the way home from work.

  “Me too,” Lou said excitedly when she saw where I was headed. “On ice, please.” Her legs swung from side to side from her perch on the edge of the counter.

  “Your house is that big,” Myla said with a laugh as she bustled around the kitchen, getting her supplies. “I don’t know why you bought this place.”

  “It was the best one he had at the time.”

  “Bullshit,” she shot back. “Mine was the best and we both know it.”

  “Maybe I was lettin’ you take the good one,” I joked, making her roll her eyes. We’d both bought our houses around the same time, I’d just graduated from college and Myla had been in her sophomore year. She’d had a steady job as a barista since she was sixteen and easily convinced my parents that she could afford it before she graduated.

  “What are you going to do when the boys grow up and get places of their own?” she asked seriously, pouring oil into a pan on the stove. “You’ll be bouncing around in here like a pinball. All alone.”

  “Who’s movin’ out?” Bas asked.

  “I’m not,” Cian replied from his spot at our old kitchen table. “Must be you.”

  “Fuck that,” Bas grumbled. He leaned over my shoulder and picked up one of the glasses I’d just filled, throwing it back.

  “That was Lou’s.”

  “Hey!” Lou griped.

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, grinning at her. He poured more whiskey into the glass and handed it to her. “I was wonderin’ why he put ice in it.”

  “I like ice.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “You already drank out of it,” she complained.

  Bas watched her for a long moment, then softly said, “That a problem, Louisa?”

  I shook my head and turned away from them. I didn’t want to be in the middle of whatever the hell was going on there. With the amount of time we all spent together, if any of them decided to screw the entire group was going to be royally fucked. Best to just pretend I didn’t see shit.

  “I know why you bought a big house,” Myla sang quietly. She was just drunk enough to be hungry and irritating, but not quite stumbling around yet as she swayed from side to side along with the music Bas had playing through the living room speakers.

  “It’s a nice house,” I replied, my voice firm. Every single time my sister and I drank together, she brought up shit I’d rather not discuss. It was as if she was hoping that after a few drinks I’d spill my guts and start spewing my feelings or something. Well, that, or the liquid courage was making her brave.

  Neither of those things were going to bring about the outcome she was hoping for. She’d seen firsthand how completely wrecked I’d been when Noel moved up to Seattle and I’d never heard from her again. We didn’t need to discuss it. Ever.

  “I’m goin’ up to my room,” I announced, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. “You guys know where your room is.”

  “We should really each have our own rooms,” Lou joked.

  “You do—at Myla’s house.”

  “I kinda like the bunk bed,” Frankie said, smiling. “It makes me feel like I’m at summer camp.”

  “You’re welcome,” Cian said, saluting her with his beer. He’d been the one to find it at a garage sale.

  “You sure you don’t want company, handsome?” Frankie called as I walked out of the room.

  I flipped her off over my shoulder.

  Frankie had been exaggerating about getting lost, but my house was pretty big. My brother Rumi liked to call it a McMansion and I couldn’t really argue with him. There were five bedrooms and four bathrooms. I’d taken the largest bedroom. It had its own bathroom and was built over the garage, so it was a bit removed from the rest of the house. The other bedrooms were set up on the second floor with Jack and Jill bathrooms. Cian and Bas had chosen bedrooms on opposite sides of the hall so they each had their own bathrooms, too, except when the girls stayed and shared with Bas.

  Everyone had been surprised when I’d chosen the place. My dad had gotten it for a steal after the previous owners had defaulted on their mortgage and the bank had put it up for auction. It hadn’t been like his usual flip houses because it hadn’t had any major issues. It had barely taken me any time to fix the cosmetic shit after I’d moved in. Myla might tease that she got the best house, but if we were comparing, I’d gotten the killer deal on my house. It was worth quite a bit more than hers—even if it didn’t really fit me.

  I hadn’t said anything to anyone, but lately, I’d been considering selling. I’d paid off more than half of the place already and it was a seller’s market, according to my sister-in-law. I really didn’t need so much space and even if I moved to a smaller place, Bas and Cian could still rent from me. It would be the smart thing to do. I had so much equity that I could probably buy a house for myself and a small rental property.

  Locking the bedroom door behind me, I set the whiskey and my glass on top of my dresser and started stripping off my clothes as I walked toward the windows along the front wall. The houses down the road were all dark, most of the neighbors were older couples who were in bed pretty early. Grabbing my whiskey from the dresser, I stood there, staring at the property.

  The old owners had left behind a swing set that I’d fixed up for any nephews and nieces that came over and it looked like some kind of futuristic alien in the dark. My first spring in the house, I’d planted two long rows of raspberry bushes on the north side of the property that were filling out. I’d probably have a pretty good crop for my sister-in-law Esther to come take during the summer. She traded me for homemade jam, so I got the better end of that deal. The rest of the property was mostly grass. I hadn’t touched any of the trees along the property lines, so everything stayed somewhat secluded.

  I’d get a pretty penny if I decided to sell.

  My stomach twisted at the thought so I took another sip of my whiskey. So fucking stupid.

  I was sure my family suspected why I’d bought my monstrosity of a house, but not a single one of them had broached the topic. It was too ludicrous to say out loud. Of course I hadn’t bought a house for the girl I’d been obsessed with as a teenager—the one I hadn’t seen or spoke to in six years. I hadn’t been planning for the family that we’d never have four years after I’d lost contact with her. That would be so fucking idiotic, none of them would ever accuse me of it.

  I finished my whiskey and strode to the bottle to refill.

  Most days, I could pretend that I hadn’t been so delusional that I’d seen this house and pictured her inside it. That I’d known instantly that this was the one I’d wanted because it had enough bedrooms for all the kids she’d wanted when she was fifteen. That I hadn’t planted those raspberries because they were her favorite.

  It had been six fucking years. I’d gone to college, started a career, fucked more women than I could remember. I was a full ass adult. I paid taxes when I had to. I did my own laundry, woke up to an alarm and dragged my ass to work, took care of my shit. Who the fuck knew what Noel had been doing all those years? By now she probably had a bunch of kids with some other schmuck. My brother Otto was married to Noel’s older sister and they hadn’t heard from her either. Not a word in six years. She probably didn’t even remember the kid she’d snuck around with for a few months before everything had gone to shit.

  Setting my glass down on the nightstand, I climbed into bed as laughter roared downstairs. Usually, I could pretend that I hadn’t bought the house for her, but as I laid in bed looking at the ceiling I realized for some reason, it was inescapable that night.

  Four hours later, when my phone rang, I was instantly awake.

  My heart pounded as I answered it.

  “Otto?”

  “Hey little brother, get your ass up.”

  “What’s goin’ on?”

  “She called,” he said, his voice grim. He didn’t have to tell me who she was. “Leavin’ my place in half an hour. Get here quick, we’re not waitin’ on you.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I was climbing off my bike outside Otto’s old farmhouse.

  “It’s a family matter,” my dad said into his phone nodding at me as I strode up the porch steps. The house was well lit as I stepped inside, Bas and Cian following behind me.

  “Hey, keep it down,” my sister-in-law Esther told us as she met us in the living room. “Flora’s still sleeping.”

  “Noel called you?” I asked, pulling her into a hug.

  Her arms wrapped around my waist and squeezed. “About an hour ago,” she confirmed, pulling away with a worried frown. “I’m not sure what’s happening, she was pretty worked up. I have an address, though.”

  “You ready?” Otto asked, leading my other brothers into the room.

  I let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a snort. Otto shook his head as Rumi laughed quietly. Was I ready? Jesus Christ. I’d gone to bed calling myself every kind of idiot for still thinking about Noel and woke up to news of her for the first time since I was seventeen. We’d been waiting for Esther’s little sister to call for my entire adult life. Even if I hadn’t been head over heels in love with her back when we were kids, she was still Esther’s baby sister and I would’ve done anything for Esther no questions asked. She was one of my favorite people in the entire world.

  “Not sure what we’re walkin’ into,” Otto said as we huddled up in the living room. My mom came in from the kitchen as he spoke, wrapping her arms around my waist as I listened. “We’re gonna pick her up, bring her back here. Not gonna cause problems up there if we can help it. Noel’s an adult. She wants to leave, that’s her prerogative, and even if they call the cops they can’t stop her.”