Mancave (Wild Men 3)

?And your point is?”

“I’ve told you many times, we need to hire another mechanic for the Mancave, someone experienced who can run the shop if anything happens.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen. Besides, I’m not sure we can afford one. And who would we hire?” I sink down on the steps of the porch, a headache starting behind my eyes. “Dammit, sometimes I feel that everything’s my responsibility.”

“Of course you feel that. Know why? Because you never let me make any decisions!” Kaden barks.

“The fuck.” I jerk at the anger in his voice. “But your headaches—"

“Dammit, Matt, I haven’t had any for more than a year now. I’m fine. I told you that plenty of times, if you’d only fucking listen.”

Shit, he’s right. He has told me many times over that he’s okay. And asked for more helping hands for Mancave. Why can’t I let go of a shred of control and let him take over once in a while? He’s my brother, and I’d trust him with my life. Why not our shop? Sure, I had the idea and put most of the capital into the venture, but so what?

“Do you have someone in mind?” I hear myself asking, and you couldn’t be more shocked than I am that I capitulated so easily. But hell, I think he’s right. “For help for the shop.”

He exhales, and it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “Seriously? If you’re serious, I’ll make you a list.”

“Tell you what.” I rub a hand over my mouth, over my beard. “Make that list, and as soon as I’m back in St. Louis, we’ll put our heads together and choose someone to hire. Satisfied?”

“You fucking kidding me?” He laughs outright, a happy sound that has me grinning. “Hell, yeah, I’m satisfied. That’s a good decision, man. You’ll see.”

Yeah, maybe. Never thought giving in would make Kaden be happy. Why can’t I give up more control? I have to try harder.

Thing is, hearing my brother’s laughter has loosened more than the knot in my chest. It’s shaken loose memories from our childhood, back when everything seemed to be made of green grass and blue skies, all play and joy, not a care in the world.

That’s what I want for my family. For myself. That’s worth every sliver of fear and every drop of sorrow. It’s worth everything.

* * *

“Hey, girl.” I pull Octavia against me after lunch, after sending Evan away to rest and Melissa upstairs to play, and lead her into the living room. “Well, we’re here, helping, and Melissa’s mom should come tomorrow or Monday to pick her up.” I tug her to the sofa, sit down and pull her on my lap. “Whatever the truth about her is. But what about you? Anything you would like to do while we’re back in your old town? Any friends you want to visit?”

I really need to talk to Evan about the girl’s mother. Yeah, I know it’s none of my goddamn business, and yet…

“I need to see Ross.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Ross is getting out of prison tomorrow. We could go pick him up.”

“Why the hell would we wanna do that?”

“Because,” she says quietly, her arms twined around my neck, a flush on her cheeks and the glitter of tears in her eyes, “nobody else will.”

Her words settle over us, heavy and sharp.

“Tay…” Fuck, how can I convince her to let go of this crazy idea? “Ross is in prison for a reason. He’s a criminal.”

“He’s just sad and drinks too much.”

“Sad? He’s a bully. He likes kicking puppies and hurting people. Let his dick of a dad go pick him up.”

“That’s the thing, Matt. His dad won’t go. Nobody will, and I’m his sister.”

“Half-sister,” I say stubbornly. “And after the way he treated you all your life, you owe him nothing, Tay. Nothing.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, and the sweet weight of her body on mine is distracting, getting my blood singing and my dick hard. “Gigi called. She said… said I should forget about Ross.”

“See? Even your sister agrees with me.”