more than his career.”
“He should go to a specialist. We’ll find him the best. If he moves in with us temporarily, we can give him a hand with his son,” I suggest.
“If my fucking brothers weren’t selfish assholes, he could go to Hayes.”
I arch an eyebrow as I try to remember which one is which. He has five brothers, and it’s hard to keep them all straight since we don’t speak about them often.
“Is Hayes the doctor?” I guess, trusting my logic.
Beacon nods. “Best fucking orthopedic doctor in the world. Has he reached out and said, ‘Hey, asshole, I heard you hurt your knee. I might be able to fix it’ or visited him to check on him? No. We…maybe we should visit Mills soon and convince him to take a hiatus.”
“We’ll do that,” I assure him. “Arden needs a break from that hockey life too. He’s just a baby.”
He looks at me and smiles. It’s such a sad smile. I want to cry for him.
Even though Mills is older than him, Beacon is the one who is always trying to take care of his brother. Mills and Arden are what he has left of hope. I wish he would accept my family as his and forget about the assholes. There are so many things I can wish for, but I don’t say a word because I understand him better than anyone else.
He lives with a guilt that doesn’t belong to him. He wants to fix everything he believes he broke. He wants to protect everyone he loves. The only thing that gives him peace is his music. That’s the only constant that we share.
Chapter Three
Beacon
“I hate you!” Grace says as I cut the homemade sourdough bread into cubes.
“Good. I still love you,” I say teasingly.
“You could just bring the frittata, but no, you have to make your famous cinnamon French toast casserole.”
“It is famous,” I agree. “It’s become an institution during the Deckers’ brunch. I can’t just skip it because you can’t eat it.”
She glares at me while wiping the bread maker.
“If I promise to make you some special muffins tomorrow?”
She smiles at me. “Fine, I might like you again.”
“Wow, I can’t please the crowd. What does a guy have to do to get an I love you?”
She shrugs. “Keep trying, Aldridge,” she jokes.
My phone rings. I pray to God that it’s not an emergency because I don’t have time to entertain nonsense. It’s my time off with Grace. Everyone knows not to call on Sundays when I’m at home.
“It says Hayes.” G shows me my phone.
“Great. Asshole number two is calling.” I sigh.
“Answer.”
“No,” I say. “Just ignore it. I don’t care if he needs me to go to New York. For all I care, our father can die, go to hell, and I won’t be bothered.”
“He’s your brother. You should answer.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Good idea,” she says and slides her finger across the screen. “Beacon’s phone, how can I help you?”
That snarky tone and the grin while she’s answering are a turn on. I should be upset that she can’t let things be, but how can I when she’s so fucking adorable—and challenging.
“Is he available?” I can hear his voice from where I stand.
I shake my head. Hang up the phone, I mouth.
“It depends.” She twirls a lock of her hair, which surprisingly is dark brown today—her natural hair color. “Why are you calling, asshole number two?”
There’s a chuckle on the other side of the line. “Is that how my name comes up on the caller ID? He catalogues us as assholes, just like Mills calls us Fuckers.”
She responds, “No,” but she nods.
Because actually, yes. I categorize my brothers by the severity of their assholiness, which coincidentally matches their birth placement from oldest to youngest. No one is a super asshole like Henry. He is his own kind of fucked-up dickhead.
“It reads Hayes. However, when your name flashed, he just said, ‘Fuck. First, a lawyer calls about my father, and now it’s asshole number two,” she explains further. Only G can make up that shit on the go.
She doesn’t need me to have a conversation with my brothers. Grace knows how I feel about each one of them. If she could just not try to make a low male voice, we’d be cool. Her raspy voice makes me hot.
You’d think she’s on my side, but nope. She knows the reason he’s calling, and she’s fucking logical. “I answered because I guess things are not going well