Deep 6 (Multiple Love)

Maybe T is right. Maybe sharing one girl will build on the harmony we already have.

Deep Repairs is important to me. My five brothers are important to me. Having something better than what I grew up with is my main goal in life, and that isn't just about living in a better place or having money to eat stuff other than hotdogs and ramen. It's about harmony and love too.

I'd never admit that to the rest of them.

They already think I'm soft for being the one who rescues stray cats from the neighborhood. When I nursed a bird that had a broken wing until it healed, they thought I was crazy. Greg suggested breaking its neck as a kindness, but I fought against him. In the end, that bird flew away to live its life. Who knows where it is or what it's seen since? All I know is that, when I released it from my bedroom window, a weight from inside me flew away too.

Second chances in life can be hard to accept when the first chance you have is terrible. But I have accepted the good life I have now, and I want to protect it. Whether it involves Sandy or not remains to be seen, but I'll only be ready to participate so long as we all stay united. At the first sight of back-biting, I'll withdraw my support.

Tyler has been brooding ever since Greg came to the shop, and when we all heap into two trucks, I choose to travel with him, watching the jitter of his leg and the way he's picked the skin around his fingernails until it's raw. I'm going to need to stay close to Tyler for sure.

Back at home, I'm the first through the front door, and as soon as I step into the hall, the smell of something delicious hits me square in the face.

"Fuck," Andrew mutters behind me. "That smells good."

We all troop into the kitchen, finding Sandy stirring something in a large pot. On the counter, cooling on a rack, are twelve huge blueberry muffins—my favorite.

If I'm not mistaken, the food in the pot looks like beef chili. It's usually Tyler that cooks it, but Sandy's definitely smells better. There's something richer about it that tickles my tastebuds without having to touch my tongue.

Not only that but Sandy's also dressed in the cutest outfit—a pretty yellow summer dress that's short enough to get a look at the milky skin of her curvy thighs. It's sheer enough that I can see the outline of her panties through the fabric—her very small panties.

Fuck.

"Hey," she says, turning and smiling, shrugging her shoulder as though she's shy about her efforts. I glance at the rest of the boys, finding them all with the same expressions, mouth open and eyes slightly wider than usual.

They never look at me that way when I cook!

"It's nearly ready, so you can go wash up." Sandy looks pointedly at our hands. We've all gone through the motions of cleaning up at the Deep Repairs workshop, but that's the thing about being a mechanic: the grease stains around my nails never seem to go completely, even if I scrub them almost raw.

No one says anything. They're gawking as though someone removed their brains. "Come on, guys," I say to jolt them out of their frozen states, and we all troop out of the kitchen to use the bathroom.

"Did you see that?" Damien says with a whistle.

"What part?" Arden asks.

"All of it," Damien says, his voice light and impressed. Tyler chuckles, squirting soap into his palm.

"You ain't seen nothing yet!" he says proudly.

Is it weird that he's so cool about us ogling his girl this way? I guess if you follow society's expectations, then of course it is. Pride in your girl is one thing, but Damien's comments went beyond just normal appreciation. They were packed with unsatisfied lust.

"She always cook like this?" Greg asks.

"Yep," Tyler says. "Sandy's the whole package. I told you. Smart, funny, cute, sexy, good cook…" He trails off as though anything else would be a step too far, but I know what was on the tip of his tongue. Knock-out in bed.

From what Arden told me, Greg gave her the fuck of her life, and she was taking it like a trooper. She'll have to be a trooper to take us all, that's for sure.

I'm the last to wash up, taking my time to get my hands as clean as they can possibly be. I even wash my face, patting it dry with a towel, and then straighten my hair. After all Sandy's work, looking presentable is the least I can do.

In the kitchen, Tyler is helping Sandy find plates and silverware. Greg is hunting out enough cold beers to go round, and Damien is even laying out napkins. The table is almost laid, and I smile at the effort the guys are making. We usually serve ourselves with whatever someone has been decent enough to cook and then slump onto the couch to watch whatever sport is on the TV.