Page 20 of Lucky Boys
Then he opened it, his eyes going wider and wider by the moment before he finally pulled the custom-made knife out of the box. He extended the blade, admiring the wicked sharp edge that when held in the light would make the steel look rainbow-colored. The iridescent theme carried down to the hilt, which had been custom made to fit Brooks’s hand—with some serious help and sneaking from his family.
“Fuck, Luca . . .” He met my eyes, and the emotions in his pretty blue ones stole my fucking breath away. “This is . . . I don’t even have words. Which, seriously, might be the first time ever. I . . .”
“Turn it over, trouble. It’s engraved.”
Brooks bounced excitedly as he read the inscription, then I had him in my arms again, this time with an extremely sharp blade dangerously close to my ear. But even drunk, I trusted Brooks with it.
What I didn’t trust was myself when he kissed me, loud and a little wet on the cheek. It was innocent, but tell that to my fucking cock.
“Thank you, Luca! Seriously. Thank you. I promise I’ll take good care of it and cherish it forever.”
I couldn’t even begin to formulate words before Brooks grabbed my hand and was dragging me away from the front door and farther into the house. “Come on, we have to show Mom and Dad! And then Diego. Maybe you can convince him to leave his room.”
I was helpless to stop him, my original plan out the window.
My eyes were gritty and dry as they blinked open, some unknown force waking me up. What time was it? The blackout curtains in my room made it impossible to tell, but it felt early. Too early to get up, but there was no point in trying to go back to sleep now.
I stretched, just then noticing the warm body pressed up against me. Skye. I smiled softly, remembering the events of last night. It didn’t completely take away all the stress, the memories, and the regrets, but my men had a way of making everything seem a little less hard than it was.
On the other side of Skye, Maverick stirred but seemed to still be asleep. I quietly leaned over and checked the time on my phone. 4:30 am. Fuck. Might as well get an early workout in and then get started on work. Fuck knew I had plenty.
Skye groaned and opened one eye when the bed dipped as I stood up. Leaning over, I kissed the side of his head. “Shh, it’s early. Get more sleep.”
“Mmmkay.” He rolled over and buried himself into Mav’s side.
A burst of warmth spread through me as I stumbled to the bathroom to take care of morning business and brush my teeth.
The dream was still fresh in my mind, but I pushed it aside. It had been a long time since I’d thought about that night. There were a lot of things I could have done differently, but I didn’t regret leaving. Just because Brooks was back in my life, older and somehow more appealing, didn’t change a thing. He was only here because he was in danger.
I splashed some cold water on my face and glanced in the mirror. Ugh, I really needed to shave. The gray in my beard was somehow more noticeable than the dark brown, which honestly was just another reminder of how I had no business thinking about Brooks Foster. A little voice in my head reminded me that Skye was only 6 years older than him, but it didn’t feel the same. Maybe because I hadn’t known Skye as a kid or had a decent relationship with his parents? I couldn’t explain it, even to myself, and it was too fucking early to even try.
I left the bathroom and used the light on my phone to put on a pair of gym shorts and find my sneakers before leaving Mav and Skye still asleep on my bed.
Even with washing my face, my eyes still felt gritty and heavy. Coffee first, then a workout. I made a detour to the kitchen.
I was only half surprised to see Brooks in there, sitting on top of the counter and eating what looked like cold spaghetti out of a Tupperware with an open energy drink next to him. He was wearing nothing but a pair of threadbare gym shorts and knee-high Gay Pride socks paired with high-top, rainbow Chucks. All his tattoos were on display, covering his flat stomach and hairless chest, all the way up his neck. He had so many more than the last time I’d seen him and I was stuck for a moment, trying to take them all in. He shifted as he ate, and I got a good glimpse of the small silver hoops in both his nipples. I idly wondered if they were sensitive, and about the sounds he would make when I tugged them . . . .
Brooks froze when he saw me, the fork of spaghetti halfway to his mouth.
“Um . . . hi?” His cheeks pinkened, and I refused to let myself think about how adorable he looked.
When the fuck was the last time anyone had made spaghetti? It was a weird thing to focus on, but it was all I could think about. I had a chef that came in once or twice a week and premademeals for us, since none of us really had time to cook, but I didn’t remember eating spaghetti in the last month, let alone recently enough that it would still be good.
“Where’d that come from?” Brooks looked startled, which was a reasonable reaction.
“Um, the fridge?” It came out as more of a question than anything. “I figured it was okay? Was I supposed to ask?”
I shook my head and finally turned away from Brooks to the coffee machine. “No. You can eat whatever you want. I just didn’t know we even had spaghetti.”
“Oh.” Brooks’s feet kicked the counter. “It still tastes good, so it’s probably fine.”
I wrinkled my nose. Lovely. “It does beg the question, what’re you doing up this early, indulging in cold spaghetti and energy drinks?”
I turned around as he hopped off the counter and shoved another massive bite into his mouth before taking a few steps closer. “I couldn’t sleep. I went to the gym and worked out for like an hour, but then I got hungry, so I came here.”
He was too close. I busied myself with the coffee maker, wishing we had the fancy one that took all my concentration in here too, instead of a simple Keurig.
“You should try to get some more rest. It’s going to be a long few days.” I cleared my throat since it suddenly felt a little scratchy.
