“How’d that go?” Chance asks.
I see Rev sidle up and slide to the couch beside Myka, twisted to face the rest of us, eyes on me. “It was rough. Never been so fuckin’ scared in my life as I was comin’ face to face with Luke for the first time. I fuckin’….I killed his daughter, man. Killed his daughter, his only child, and then I ran like a goddamn coward.” I rub my face again, and I feel Anjalee’s hand on my jaw, fingers tracing, touching, petting—soothing. “He forgave me. Never—I never in a million fuckin’ years thought he could forgive me for what I did.” I shake my head, gripping Anjalee’s shoulder for support, for strength. “But he did. And that was…the most fuckin’ humbling moment of my life. He’s the father I never had. The only real father I’ve ever known. I…I betrayed him. Took his little girl.” I choke. “And he forgave me. And Anj made that happen.”
She nuzzles my arm. “Kane, I do not like seeing you upset.”
I shake my head, lean down and kiss the top of her head. “I’m not upset, I’m just…emotional. It’s hard stuff, honey.”
She kisses my arm. “Your friends, they did not already know this?”
I shake my head. “Babe, I told you. Never talked about it—not fuckin’ ever…not even with the guys on my squad, and I fuckin’ bled with those men.”
Chance grabs my arm at the elbow and squeezes—it feels roughly akin to having a vise clamp down with mechanical brutality, even though he’s just showing casual masculine affection. “Neither Rev nor I ever really shared our shit with our team either. Some shit you just…don’t talk about.”
Rev laughs. “Shit, brother, we don’t even talk about it with each other.”
“Well yeah,” Chance says, laughing, returning to sit back on the bench near Lash. “But that’s ‘cause we lived it together, so no point in reminiscing about the bad old days.”
Anjalee looks from face to face. “It is good to share these things, I believe. It is good to have those whom you can trust, to whom you can give these very hard things from your past. Otherwise, you are harboring within yourself a poison. Or so it seems to me.”
“The shit we’re holding on to though,” Chance says, “it ain’t easy to trust people with it. Ain’t easy to bring it up. You shove it down in the dark and lock it up, and you don’t open that fuckin’ door. Not ever, not for anyone.”
Anjalee nods, but looks again to me, to Rev, Lash at the table still, listening, to the brothers off to the side, listening. “But here, you are surrounded by men who…you all seem to be so very much alike, yes? You are all having been in the military, and are here because you took this vow, you are all having the tattoo. You are this brotherhood, yes? If you cannot share these things with these men around you, who can you ever share it with?”
“The fuck do you know?” This is Silas, the most silent, the broodiest brother. “Who the fuck are you, anyway? Tellin’ us who to fuckin’ trust?”
I turn on him, hackles rising. “Si, stand down. She’s talkin’ sense and you know it. Don’t be a dick because that threatens you.”
Si smirks. “Got yourself a hot piece of ass and she got you sharin’, don’t mean the rest of us are interested in sittin’ around cryin’ about our fuckin’ feelings like a bunch of fuckin’ pussies.”
Lash laughs, cutting off my reply, which was more than likely going to be my fist. “Silas, my friend. Your bravado is unnecessary. No one is asking you to share anything you do not wish to share.”
Si sneers at Lash. “I don’t see you offerin’ up your shit.”
Lash remains calm, unperturbed. “No one asked.”
Si lifts his chin, deciding whether to call Lash’s bluff or not. “So if I was to ask you to tell me your life’s story right the fuck now, you would?”
Lash smirks. “I would play a game with you. Tit for tat, as it were. I will reveal something of myself if you will.”
Silas frowns, blinking. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“Try me.” Lash extends his legs, leaning back against the table. He gestures with a hand, then pinches the ends of his mustaches between finger and thumb, twisting them until they curl, then crosses his arms over his chest. “If you dare.”
Silas snorts. “Baitin’ me now, are you?” He’s released the bluster and bravado, now, and seems amused more than anything. “I will if everyone does.”
“Fuck that.” This is Saxon, rugged boy-next-door features set in a scowl. “I ain’t sharin’ shit.”
Sol, his features sharper and less rugged, elbows him. “Lighten up, Sax. No one’s sayin’ you gotta offer up your darkest secret.”
“Fine. My name is Saxon.” He sneers. “That good enough?”
Silas eyes him. “If I can, you can.”
Chance waves a huge paw. “I’m in.”
“Already shared a shit-ton,” Rev says, “but sure. Why not? Shared it all with Myka, and I feel better for it. And Anjalee is damned right—if you fuckers can’t handle my shit, who the hell could?”
I reach down and tangle my fingers with Anjalee’s, resting our hands on her shoulder. “I already shared my shit. You want the other part, I’ll share it, after everyone else does, just to play the game.”
