Inked in Lies (The Fallen Men 5)

And I anointed Dane with our new name.

“Meadows,” I said softly, tattooing it on his brow with my touch and my intent. “Dane and Lila Meadows.”

* * *

* * *

Breakfast was delicious. I’d never eaten pancakes because Mamá barely cooked, and Ignacio only made what he knew and liked, which was mostly beans, rice, and greasy, deliciously seasoned meats cooked on a grill. Dane and I both ate way more than we should have, and the Booths laughed with us as we smeared the confections in whipped cream.

Dane got presents from everyone, and he let me help him unwrap them. They were packaged so prettily in tidily folded black and silver paper that I hated ripping them apart.

But Dane loved the gifts.

A fishing rod from Diogo because all the other boys had their own.

A black toque sewn with Dane’s name in silver stitching across the brow from Molly.

Milo and Oliver had pooled their money to buy him discounted Nike sneakers. They were so white they glowed, and I could tell by the way my brother touched the high tops gently with his big hands that he was afraid even his fingers would mar their beauty.

Jonathon and I had picked out a present together. It was really from Jonathon because he had the money, but I helped him design it by painting little flowers between the skulls, guns, and brass knuckles Jonathon had etched on the underside.

It was a Krooked skateboard, black on the top, trimmed in red with our designs on the bottom. I’d known it was expensive because I’d seen the number on the till when Jonathon bought it, but I was reminded again when Dane lifted his shining eyes to Jonathon, and they shared a moment so bright and fleeting it streaked between them like a shooting star.

When Dane said, “thanks, bro,” it was in a hushed, choked off voice, and when Jonathon responded it was only with a jerky nod.

Boys were so silly.

We finished breakfast and immediately served the birthday cake. Hudson and me both shoved Dane’s face into the soft treat while shouting ‘mordida’ like I used to do with Ignacio, and even though it made my chest tight, I was happy to continue the tradition with the Booths.

It was the best morning I’d ever had.

Until Molly paused at the kitchen island with an opened letter in her hands, her auburn brow puckered and her mouth open in a gasp. When she looked up from the letter, we were all frozen, our gazes glued to her, but it was Jonathon she looked at with utter dismay.

“Jonathon,” she murmured. “Please tell me this isn’t true.”

My head twisted so quickly, my neck cramped as I looked at her eldest son. Confusion filtered across his face before his features solidified and his shoulders stiffened.

I would never forget what he looked like in that moment, a soldier called out by his general for flagrant treason, his shame tempered by steely determination that he’d done what was right morally if not legally. He wore his hair longer back then, and it fell in his eyes as he locked them on his mother.

“It’s true,” he said, voice hard, but tone deceptively easy. “And I don’t care if you’re mad as hell. It was the right thing to do.”

Tears pooled over Molly’s lower lids and splashed to the flour strewn countertop. Diogo’s chair screeched as he pushed it back and strode over to his wife. He took the letter and read it, brow descending over his eyes with each passing second.

When he looked up at Jonathon, his throat was working oddly, and he seemed suspended between grief and anger. “This is unacceptable.”

A muscle in Jonathon’s jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth. His hands, drawn with balloons and cake, party streamers and hats depicting Dane’s name and age, curled into fists over the crepe paper tablecloth.

“No, what woulda been unacceptable is if we couldn’t’a gotten Dane and Lila back,” he ground out. “You said we didn’t have the money. I made it so we did.”

Hudson knocked his shoulder into me. Without looking, I tangled our hands together and squeezed.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dane demanded, standing suddenly so he could lean against the table on his fists and glare at his best friend. “What the fuck did you do, Jon?”

Jonathon stood up, too, both of them canted over the big round table like mountain goats about to lock horns.

“I made it so you could be here with us,” he growled. “You gotta problem with that?”

“Fuck yeah, I might,” Dane shouted. “Depends on what idiotic thing did you did now.”

“He dropped out of school,” Molly breathed from the circle of Diogo’s arms. “He dropped out of school, and the part-time job he said he got, well, I’m guessing it’s full time.”

Jonathon’s square jaw was so tight, I could read the pulse in his cheek. “You better fuckin’ believe it. I don’t give a shit what you think about it, you or my parents. You think you can make me feel bad about doin’ somethin’ to rectify the worst wrong I’ve ever seen? You got another thing comin’, Dane.”