“You insinuated she was hot enough to fake-drown for.”
“She is,” I say. “Tell me fourteen-year-old Akara wouldn’t fake-flail in the deep-end hoping she’d dive down and rescue your ass?”
“I wouldn’t. Because when I was fourteen, she was eight.”
I grimace. “Alright, alright, that’s not where I was going, man. She’s twenty-one now.”
He whisper-hisses, “And I’ve known her since she was sixteen, Banks. She’s like a sister. I’ve told you that. It’s different for you—it’ll always be different.”
Yeah, I haven’t been her bodyguard for years. I’m not the one she really wants. I joined security right after the Marine Corps and became a bodyguard to Xander Hale. I’ve seen Sulli since I was twenty-two, but I didn’t know her. Didn’t spend time with her. Not like Akara.
I scratch the back of my head, frustrated, and I lean an arm against a shelf of tin can pots. “Maybe you should go find a mirror and reflect.”
His eyes flit to me. “Maybe you should go find some cotton swabs and clean your ears out so I don’t have to repeat the same shit a billion times.”
I nod. “Who wants to tell her we’re making a detour to Bed, Bath, and Beyond after this?”
Akara smiles.
I smile back before our gazes return to Sulli.
“She’s Oscar Mike,” I say, telling him she’s on the move in military lingo. She can’t hear us, but she’s tossing some plastic camping plates into a shopping cart and heading to the next aisle.
As we walk, a soft thump bangs against my temple. God, I could use a cigarette right now. A few minutes pass, and I’ve gone quiet next to a rack of sleeping bags.
“What are you doing?” Akara asks, more at my silence.
“The usual.” I put a toothpick between my teeth and bite down. “Waiting for my best friend to admit to his feelings.”
“Hey, while you’re waiting, you should go grab a canteen, some water, meal kits for a few dozen years—because it’s going to be a long fucking time.”
I lift my shoulder in a stiff shrug. “I have forever.”
He laughs into another smile. “Funny, so do I.”
My mouth curves up. “You’re almost as stubborn as my brother.”
“That’s not possible.”
Thatcher at least acknowledged his attraction to Jane. Akara won’t even admit to himself that Sulli is beautiful. No bodyguard-client boundary forbids him from making a move. He’s the fucking boss, and she won’t fire him.
Denial—he’s so far in fucking denial that I’m starting to think this is all a lost cause.
Maybe Akara does just see her like a sister, and my dumbass is putting too much energy in the wrong direction.
A buzz vibrates my pocket. I pull out my phone. “Speaking of that handsome devil.” Checking the text, my jaw tightens.
Uncle Joe wants me to invite Tony to the bachelor party. Put him on the list. – Cinderella
Yeah, I have Thatcher in my phone as Cinderella ever since Donnelly tattooed it on his ass. Barely makes me laugh after reading that text.
“Fuck,” I mutter and show Akara the message. It’s bad enough Tony Ramella is invited to my brother’s wedding, and now the prick is going to the party.
Akara looks irritated too. “He’ll probably decline the invite. Right?”
“He won’t for the same reason Thatcher has to invite him. It’s a family obligation. Uncle Joe is trying to glue-stick everyone back together so there’s not a Capulet and Montague situation.”
The Ramellas are married into the Morettis and Piscitellis. Tony is family.
I hate that he’s family as much as Thatcher. Because I’d do anything for family, but Tony…after my brother saved his ass in a fire…he’s still a raging prick.
He couldn’t give a fuck about my brother or me.
But I’m not gonna be the one to create a war among my family. My mom is married to Nicola Ramella, and rifts with the Ramellas will directly affect her. She’s had enough hardship in her life. I’m not giving her more.
I type out a text. Rah.
That’s it.
Rah.
Short for oorah.
My brother can definitely feel my irritation in those three letters.
I shove my phone in my pocket. “As if planning this party wasn’t hard enough.”
Akara glances at me. “You know I can help—”
“No,” I cut him off. “You have enough on your plate, boss.” Akara needs me. It’s why I’m here in the first place, watching over his client.
“Not enough that I can’t make time for you,” Akara says. “The offer isn’t evaporating.”
“Roger copy.” I’m not taking it. For his sake.
Truth: I never thought throwing Thatcher’s bachelor party would be hard. I figured it’d be a cake walk. And yeah, I always knew I’d be my brother’s best man one day.
He’s my twin—he’s been a part of my life before I knew what life was. What he means to me is greater than air, than water. Almost losing him in that fire this year…that was the worst pain I’ve ever felt.