Page 29 of Ablaze

Mala gives me a solemn nod but her lips twitch, holding back a smile. “No, that makes sense. We’ll just skip that part.”

“Only if you win, which you won’t,” I remind her. “But if I win, you have to watch Scarface with me. That, or another episode of Ancient Aliens on the History Channel.”

“Oh, hell no,” she responds swiftly. “I will not watch another episode of that show.”

I raise my hand to shake hers. “Then you better hope you win.”

Chapter Nine

DEAN

“You guys completely had me,” Rohan shouts over the music, taking a swig of his beer. “I just thought I was picking Mala up to go to dinner with Samantha. Almost had a heart attack when I opened the door and all you guys jumped out screaming.”

I pat him on the back before clinking my beer bottle with his. “It’s called a successful surprise party. Happy birthday, brother.”

“And those cakes were so delicious,” Samantha says, giving me a smile. “I knew Mala could bake, but I had no idea you could, too, Dean.”

Samantha and Rohan have been dating for well over a year, and things seem to be going rather smoothly for them. She’s good for him–someone who’s not only supportive of what he does, but being a firefighter herself, she knows the risks and stresses of our job.

“But admit it, you liked my Bacardi piña colada cake better.” I wink at Samantha, trying to make her change her mind.

She giggles before Rohan chimes in, “Your cake was fucking delicious, I’ll give you that. But that coffee-toffee crunch cake with the Heath bar crumbled over the icing that my sister made?” Rohan whistles. “That shit was divine.”

I shake my head, feigning offense, but really, I was happy to lose to her. “Dude, she had an unfair advantage because she bakes all the time, and she’s your little sister.”

Rohan nods. “I’ll give you that, too, brother. That kid will always have an unfair advantage in my book. Even if she’d made the cake with salt instead of sugar, she would have won.” Rohan shifts his gaze to the bar where the rest of our friends and co-workers are mingling. Something affectionate swirls in his eyes–affection I’ve only seen for two people, Mala and now Samantha. He drags his eyes back to me. “Still, thanks for putting the party together.”

“It was all Mala. She’s been planning it for a while.”

After the party, I stayed back to help her clean, and when we were done, I asked her to come out with us to the bar, but she refused, saying she was tired and needed to wake up early to open back up in the morning.

Still, I can’t deny her presence, her laugh, her witty comebacks–her–aren’t being missed. It’s like when she’s around, things just feel right in the world.

Malcolm buys us all another round of shots, and we raise our glasses in cheers before we slam them back. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had so far, but one thing’s for sure, I’m fucking feeling them. While I can hold my alcohol well, I don’t drink often, so these shots of pure liquid fire are doing nothing but making my vision blurry.

“I love that kid,” Rohan proclaims, setting his shot glass on the table behind him. “Which is why, if any of you fuckers touch her,” he swings his gaze around the room, not particularly landing on any one of us, “I’ll cut your fucking balls off. That girl is way too precious for any of you. She’s been through a lot in a very short time, and the last thing she needs is for some asshole to come around to break her heart.” Rohan hiccups. “Which is why I went fucking CIA beast-mode when it came to this new guy she just started seeing.”

I blink.

What the fuck did he just say?

I blink again, taking in his slightly slurred words. He’s had a lot to drink, but so have I. My ears ring, my blood rushing through my veins like it’s been electrified.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not happy about it. No one is good enough for my baby sister, but it’s not like I can keep her in a cage, either,” he huffs. “He’s alright, I guess. A little pretentious and a bit of a pretty-boy if you ask me, but hey, what do I know?”

Everyone around us laughs as if in on some inside joke, but I’m still trying to decipher if he’s even speaking English.

“His name’s Warren. He was coming around the café a lot. Apparently, he asked her out every chance he got . . .”

The fuck?

“. . . she finally said yes a couple of weeks ago, and they’ve been out a few times–”

“I wasn’t aware she was dating someone,” I clip, my molars grinding and my nostrils flaring. “You’ve talked to him?”

Rohan pats me on the shoulder. “I met him. Seems like a decent guy. He’s a real estate agent and flips houses on the side. Seems to do well for himself, too.” His eyes finally catch mine, and he must see the rage in them. “Fuck, I thought she would have told you. You’re like another brother to her . . .”

The rest of Rohan’s sentence curls around the din from the bar. I don’t hear it or the laughter around us as the conversation continues.

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