Page 8 of Stormy Knight

“Finally, I was wondering if Monroe would ever open that bottle of wine,” he said directly to Reeves, all the while keeping an eye on Monroe waiting for his response.

Monroe held out his hands, looking at Jackson with a what the fuck expression. “I was waiting on the right time.”

“And tonight is the right time?” Jackson asked Monroe, serious to why tonight when there had been previous opportunities to drink that particular wine.

“Reeves is cooking mama’s spaghetti for us,” Monroe said. Reeves had always been a bit of a perfectionist when it came to food, and the way he prepared his mama’s spaghetti was nothing short of a ritual. Monroe had tasted it countless times, but it never failed to evoke a sense of nostalgia mixed with awe. The rich, savory sauce, simmered for hours, clung to the perfectly al dente pasta. It was the kind of meal that made you feelgrounded, as if each bite was a step back into a time when things were simpler.

Monroe could already imagine the warmth of the kitchen, the scent of garlic and basil filling the air, and Reeves standing over the stove with that focused, almost meditative expression. It was hard to believe the same man who would spend hours turning a simple family recipe into something divine would spend the same amount of time and dedication to kill their enemies. Monroe realized he was almost in awe of his younger brother. Except he could see how hard Reeves was struggling to keep himself from falling apart from the pressure. “Also, it’s just us, I thought we could sit back and appreciate the moment.”

Opening the bottle, the wine had a subtle floral hint of violet that added a delicate layer of refinement, balancing the more robust, earthy elements. Pouring a small taste into his glass, Monroe lifted it bringing it to his nose.

The wine presented a complex and intense bouquet, where the deep, ripe aromas of blackberries were intertwined with smoky notes of tobacco and the rich essence of dark cocoa. Taking a sip, he let the liquid settle on his tongue. Finally satisfied with his choice of wine, Monroe set his glass down and poured himself and his brothers a glass.

Satisfied with his choice of wine, Monroe sat his glass down and poured out three glasses and handed his brothers a glass each. Picking up his glass again, he swirled the wine in his glass one last time, the ruby-red liquid catching the light just so, before turning to his brothers. “Here’s to family,” he said, raising his glass with a grin, a silent toast to the familiar comfort of their shared meals and memories.

His brothers, already anticipating the meal, echoed the sentiment, each in their own way.

Picking up his glass, Reeves raised it and toasted his brothers. “Salud.”

“Salud.” Jackson and Monroe repeated.

“This wine is a perfect match for the meal I’ve prepared for us,” Reeves said as he carried his glass with him to the kitchen, leaving Monroe and Jackson to talk amongst themselves. He didn’t want to listen to his brothers talking about their women. Reeves loved they were happy and in loving relationships. For him, he would go down in flames before dragging a woman into the life he led. What was he supposed to do, come home, wash the blood from his hands, then sit down for dinner? Not him. No matter what, he would not drag Stormy into the life of a mafia family. That was how much he loved her. He heard his brothers walking into the kitchen behind him as they continued chatting.

Monroe picked up an olive from a little bowl on the counter. “I have to be in Austin tomorrow, then I’ll be back home.”

Jackson grabbed an olive for himself. “Are you going to see Parker at school?”

It sounded weird to hear Jackson ask Monroe if he was going to see his girlfriend at school. There was an age gap between the two, but not that big of one.

“Does she call you daddy?” Reeves laughed asking Monroe. Ducking his head he dodged the dishtowel Monroe tossed at him. “Hey, I’m cooking here.”

Monroe ignored Reeves, turning his attention to Jackson. “I’m going to help her pack up her apartment. She’s done with school and heading home.”

Jackson didn’t want to remind Monroe that Parker had worked hard to get her last two degrees as well. “She worked hard to get this degree.”

“She has,” Monroe said picking up another olive.

Reeves dipped the spoon into the pot of sauce, bringing it up he sampled the heavily scented sauce. “Stormy’s coming back to town.” He heard Jackson announce out of the blue. Hearing hisbrother’s words, Reeves choked on the sauce. Bringing the apron up to his mouth, he wiped the sauce from his face.

“Reeves, are you okay over there?” Jackson asked, trying not to laugh at his younger brother.

Turning around Reeves stared at Jackson. His brother could have mentioned Stormy coming into town when they were standing at the bar waiting on Monroe to pour the wine. It was a stab to his heart, one that had his chest tight. “When will she be arriving?”

Jackson shifted uncomfortably, but then spoke up, his voice measured. “A week from yesterday.”

Reeves studied Jackson for a long beat, weighing his words, his face unreadable. Finally, he exhaled, the tension in his posture easing ever so slightly, though the fire in his eyes didn’t go out entirely. “I might be in town.”

Monroe looked at their younger brother, wondering if he ever thought about anything other than work. Before he could comment, Reeves spoke, answering Monroe’s unasked question. “It’s a business trip.”

Cutting a look at Jackson, Monroe shook his head slightly, wanting their older brother to tread carefully. Their younger brother was already on edge for some reason.

Jackson blamed it on the rich wine and the aromas of the kitchen that had him reflecting on the changes in Reeves. Once upon a time, his younger brother had been driven by more personal desires, primarily sex. Now he was solely focused on business. Jackson appreciated the dedication to family Reeves showed, still he worried he should have forced Reeves into remaining in school. If he could go back, Jackson would force Reeves to remain in school. He’d have picked someone else to become Consigliere. “What business trip?”

Without looking back at Jackson, Reeves explained his reason for leaving town. “I have to be in Houston for a meeting with a new investor.”

Jackson found the tone of Reeves’ voice to calm, but there was something in the way he spoke that suggested his mind was already elsewhere. That he wasn’t interested in discussing the details, and the mention of Houston seemed like an afterthought, as if the trip were merely a step in a larger, more complicated plan.

Nodding, Jackson tried reading between the lines, but Reeves wasn’t offering much more. “Reeves, I asked you a question not as your brother, but as the boss.”

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