On The Same Page Ch. 10

Note: A huge thank you for all the kind words I have gotten lately. It makes me incredibly happy that you all are enjoying the actual story and how its building! I am excited to bring you Chapter 10! As always, constructive criticism is always welcome and encouraged! I hope you enjoy the next chapter of On The Same Page!

Chapter 10: Plans

Robbie's POV

I stood there looking at my brother. I hadn't seen him in about six years. I had gone off to college; he had convinced my dad to let him drop out of school at 17, got his GED, and enlisted in the Marines. I struggled to grab onto one of the dozens of thoughts running through my mind.

"Ricky... what the fuck... why the fuck... when the fuck... how the fuck... where the fuck... just... WHAT!?" I said, sounding angry in the midst of the chaos.

Ricky put his hands up and said, "All fair questions, believe me."

"Whatever is going on, you couldn't have called me?"

"That would've ruined the surprise."

I looked at Ricky with a stern expression. I noted that he still looked almost exactly like me. He was a couple inches shorter, not quite as built, but we still looked extremely similar. He had a few more scars than he did when I saw him last. My shoulders sank a bit when I saw that the light of youth had left his eyes. My heart stung a little when I thought about how circumstances had taken our innocence away from us as we had to grow up so quickly.

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. Then Ricky smiled. It wasn't much different from the grin I remembered. A little older maybe, surrounded by a face that had seen six more years of life than the last time I'd seen it, but it was still my little brother's smile. That broke whatever hesitation I felt.

"Fuck, man," I said softly.

I stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Ricky didn't hesitate. His arms wrapped around me just as tightly.

"It's good to see you, Robbie."

"You too, little brother."

I hadn't expected those four words to hit me quite as hard as they did. We stayed like that for several seconds before finally pulling apart. I kept my hands on his shoulders and looked him over again.

"Jesus Christ. Six fucking years."

"I know."

"You look old."

He laughed. "I suppose six years will do that."

"I suppose it will."

He laughed again.

I pulled him into another quick hug before letting him go.

"Seriously, though. It's fucking good to see you."

"You too."

I shook my head, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he was actually standing there. It wasn't like we hadn't talked in six years. We had. Sometimes regularly. Other times, months could go by depending on where he was and what he was doing. There were stretches where all I really knew was that he was deployed somewhere in the Middle East. I knew better than to ask questions he couldn't answer, so our conversations usually became whatever pieces of normal life we could manage.

I told him about Kat, teaching, the house, getting engaged. He told me whatever he could tell me. It wasn't the same as having my little brother standing in front of me.

"You know, you still could've given me some warning."

"And miss that reaction?"

"You're lucky I didn't come out here with my gun."

Ricky glanced toward the house.

"You still carry?"

"When I feel like I need to."

He nodded.

"I didn't exactly expect to find some huge motherfucker standing in my driveway staring at my house when I got back."

"Huge?"

I looked him up and down.

"You're like six-three and almost as big as I am. That's huge to normal people."

He laughed. "Coming from you, I'll take it."

"Besides, I figured I'd yell at you before I started shooting."

"Very responsible gun ownership."

"I thought so."

He smiled and shook his head.

"So seriously," I said. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Ricky took a breath.

"I'm out."

I waited for the rest.

When it didn't come, I frowned.

"Out of what?"

"The Marines."

That took me a second.

"What?"

"My enlistment was up. I decided not to reenlist."

I stared at him. The Marines had been part of Ricky for so long that I didn't really know how to picture him without them anymore. He had left home at seventeen. In my head, he had basically gone straight from being my annoying little brother to being a Marine.

"You're done?"

"Yeah."

"Like actually done?"

He smiled. "Actually done."

"Holy shit."

"Pretty much."

I looked at him for a moment.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to tell you in person."

Something about that answer stopped me.

"You drove all the way out here just to tell me?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

He looked back toward the Jeep.

"I'm thinking about staying."

"Here?"

"In Pennsylvania. Yeah."

I blinked.

"Why?"

Ricky looked back at me and gave me a small smile.

"You're here."

That hit harder than I expected.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I am."

"I don't really have anywhere I need to be anymore. Dad sure as hell isn't a reason to go back to Texas."

"No argument there."

"And I don't know. I figured maybe it was time we lived within driving distance of each other again."

I smiled.

"I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

"Of course I would."

His smile grew.

"Good."

"So, what's the plan?"

Ricky laughed quietly.

"That's kind of the problem."

"What?"

"I don't have one."

That was weird to hear from him.

"What do you mean you don't have one?"

"I mean I have absolutely no fucking clue what I'm doing."

I smiled.

"Well, welcome to being an adult."

"No, seriously."

His expression became more thoughtful.

"I joined at seventeen, Robbie. I went from Dad's house straight into the Marines. That's basically my entire adult life."

I nodded.

"And now I'm twenty-two, and for the first time since I was a kid, nobody's telling me where I'm supposed to be tomorrow."

He looked away for a second.

"Nobody's telling me where I'm going next, what I'm doing when I get there, when I'm getting up, what I'm wearing. Nothing."

"How does that feel?"

Ricky thought about it.

"Fucking weird."

I laughed.

He did too.

"Good weird?"

"I think so. I don't know yet. The Marines do a pretty good job telling you what to do, when to do it, and how to feel about it, so this is... new."

"Fair enough."

"I just need to figure some shit out. Find somewhere to live. Find a job. Figure out what I actually want to do now that I get to decide."

The answer was so fucking obvious I almost couldn't believe he hadn't already figured it out.

"Well, shit. The first one's easy."

Ricky looked at me suspiciously.

"What?"

"You stay here."

"Robbie..."

"I'm serious." I motioned toward the house. "Look at this place. I have five bedrooms. A finished basement. There's more room in there than we know what to do with."

"Robbie."

"Stay here while you figure everything out. You can take the in-law suite in the basement. Stay a week, stay six months. I don't give a shit."

He smiled, but I could already see the answer on his face.

"I appreciate it. Seriously."

"But?"

"But I can't."

"Why not?"

"It's not you."

"I didn't think it was."

He looked toward the house for a moment.

"I'm just not ready for that yet."

I stayed quiet and let him explain.

"I've never really had anything that was mine. We had the trailer, then I joined the Marines. Barracks, deployments, roommates, always having somebody around, always living wherever I was told to live."

He paused.

"I think I need to know what it's like to have my own place."

That made more sense than I wanted it to.

"Even if it's some shitty apartment?"

He smiled.

"Especially if it's some shitty apartment."

"Why especially?"

"Because it'll be my shitty apartment."

I laughed.

"Okay. I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

I thought back to getting my first apartment when I went to college. It wasn't much. I sure as hell didn't have millions of dollars back then. But it was mine. For the first time in my life, I could close the door and know there wasn't going to be a screaming match on the other side of it.

"Yeah," I said again. "I really do get it."

Ricky nodded.

"But the offer doesn't expire."

"I know."

"No, I mean it. Tomorrow, six months from now, ten years from now. You need somewhere to go, you call me."

"I know, Robbie."

"You need anything else--"

"I'm not taking your money."

I stared at him.

"I didn't say money."

"You were about to."

"I was thinking about it."

He laughed.

"I'll figure it out."

"Fine. But you don't have to figure everything out alone."

That quieted him for a moment.

He looked at me, then nodded.

"I know."

"Good."

I looked at him again. My little brother was home. Not home from deployment. Not back in Texas. Here. Standing in front of me. Whatever else was going on, whatever he wasn't ready to tell me yet, we had time.

"Can I at least convince you to come inside?"

Ricky looked past me toward the house.

"Kat in there?"

I smiled.

"Yeah."

His eyebrows rose.

"Like Kat Kat, from when we were kids, right?"

"What other Kat would I be talking about?"

He laughed.

"You actually did it."

"Did what?"

"Got the girl."

I rolled my eyes.

"We're getting married."

"I know. You told me."

"Then why are you acting surprised?"

"Because hearing you talk about it on the phone and actually being here are two different things."

That, I understood. He looked toward the house again.

"It's good, though."

"What is?"

"This."

He motioned toward the house, then looked at me.

"You getting out. Building all this."

His voice had gotten quieter.

"You always talked about getting out."

I swallowed.

"So did you."

"Yeah."

For a moment, we just looked at each other. Two kids who grew up in a shitty trailer in Texas, standing in the driveway of a house neither of us could've imagined living in when we were kids.

"We fucking did it," I said.

Ricky smiled.

"Yeah. I guess we did."

I pulled him into another hug. This one didn't last as long, but I needed it anyway.

"Come inside."

"Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."

I turned toward my truck. Then I remembered why I had left in the first place.

"Fuck."

"What?"

"The food."

We pulled our cars into the driveway and parked. Ricky laughed as I got out holding the bags. "I show up after six years and you're still forgetting obvious shit."

"You haven't dealt with hungry Kat. Plus, you showing up out of the clear fucking blue, I think I deserve a pass."

"I remember Kat."

"You remember teenage Kat. Not hangry fiancée Kat."

He walked over and took a couple of the bags from me.

"Here."

"Thanks."

We started toward the house together.

"So, who's the third person?" Ricky asked.

"What?"

"You've mentioned 'the three of us' a few times over the last couple months when we checked in. Who's the third?"

"Oh! That would be Cassie."

"Who's Cassie?"

"Kat's best friend."

"She lives with you?"

"Sort of."

Ricky looked at me.

"What does sort of mean?"

"As of today, she lives in the pool house."

He stopped walking.

"You have a fucking pool house?"

"Yeah."

He looked at the house. Then at me. Then back at the house.

"Jesus Christ, Robbie."

"There's a lot you missed."

"No shit."

"And Cassie has a puppy."

"Of course she does."

"Her name is Lady."

"The friend?"

"The dog."

"Oh."

We started walking again.

"So the friend's name is Cassie?"

"Yes."

"Got it."

I laughed.

"I've explained two women and a dog. Keep up, Marine. Or do I need to get your crayons out?"

"Hey... former Marine now, and I will never say no to crayons."

"Former sounds weird, and of course you still love crayons, ya fucking jarhead."

"It feels weird."

I looked over at him.

"Yeah?"

He nodded.

"Yeah."

There was more behind that answer. I knew it, but I didn't push. I opened the front door.

"I'm back!"

Kat's voice immediately carried from somewhere deeper in the house.

"You better have my fucking crab rangoons!"

Ricky stopped beside me. Slowly, he looked at me. I looked at him. That familiar grin spread across his face.

"Kat Kat."

"Shut the fuck up."

He laughed as we stepped inside. Lady came barreling around the corner, paws scrambling against the floor before she managed to catch herself. She charged directly toward me before noticing the stranger standing beside me. Lady stopped. Her head tilted. Ricky looked down at her.

"I'm guessing that's Lady."

"That would be Lady."

He crouched and held out his hand.

"Well, hey there."

Lady cautiously sniffed his fingers. That caution lasted about two seconds. Her tail started wagging hard enough that her entire ass moved with it before she stepped closer and started licking his hand. Ricky laughed.

"Hey, sweetheart."

He scratched behind her ears. Lady apparently decided that was enough vetting and climbed halfway into his lap. I smiled.

"Apparently you've been approved."

"Smart dog."

"Give her time."

Ricky laughed as Lady continued demanding his attention. For some reason, watching him crouched there petting her hit me almost as hard as seeing him in the driveway had.

It would have been so normal. My brother, in my house, playing with a puppy. After years of phone calls from wherever he happened to be, years of knowing he was somewhere thousands of miles away, years of accepting that there were things about his life he couldn't tell me, he was here, though. It just hit so much differently.

"Robbie?"

Kat came around the corner. She looked at me first. Then she saw Ricky. She stopped. Her eyes widened. For a second, nobody said anything. Ricky stood. Kat stared at him.

"Yeah, I went out for Chinese and came home with something extra."

"Oh my God!"

Ricky smiled.

"Hey, Kat."

"Ricky?"

"The one and only."

Her face lit up.

"Oh my God!"

She crossed the room and hugged him without hesitation. Ricky laughed softly and hugged her back.

"It's good to see you in person finally."

Kat pulled away but kept her hands on his arms as she looked him over.

"Holy shit. Look at you!"

Ricky laughed. "Look at you."

"The last time I saw you, you were like fifteen!"

"Yeah. It's been a while."

Kat looked at me.

"You didn't tell me Ricky was coming!"

"Like I had a fuckin' clue! You think I would've kept this from you?"

Ricky raised his hand.

"That one's on me."

"You just showed up?"

"Pretty much."

Kat shook her head, still smiling.

"Jesus Christ."

Then she looked at me again. I could tell from her expression that she understood immediately why I had taken so fucking long getting Chinese food.

"Robbie talks about you all the time."

"I do not."

Kat looked at Ricky.

"He does."

Ricky smiled at me.

"I knew you loved me."

"Yeah, yeah."

He laughed. I smiled. There wasn't really any point pretending otherwise.

"I fucking missed you, asshole."

Ricky's expression softened.

"I missed you too."

Kat smiled at both of us. That was when Cassie came walking out of the kitchen.

"Did you get my..."

She stopped. Her eyes landed on Ricky. Then moved to me. Then back to Ricky. Her brow furrowed slightly. Ricky noticed.

"Hello, ma'am."

Cassie blinked.

"Hello..."

Kat spoke before I could.

"Cassie, this is Robbie's little brother, Ricky."

Cassie's eyes widened.

"Oh! Ricky!"

Ricky looked mildly surprised.

"You know who I am?"

"Of course I know who you are."

She looked at me.

"Robbie talks about you kind of a lot."

I threw my hands up.

"Apparently I never shut the fuck up about him."

Ricky laughed. Cassie walked over and hugged him as he reached out for a handshake. That seemed to catch him off guard for half a second, but he returned it.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she said.

"You too..."

She stepped back and looked between the two of us.

"Wow."

"What?" I asked.

"You really do look alike."

I looked at Ricky and said, "I don't see it."

Ricky looked at me and replied, "Neither do I."

Cassie narrowed her eyes.

"You both even fucking sound the same."

"Yeah," we said at the same time.

Kat burst out laughing.

Cassie looked between us again.

"Oh God."

"What?" Ricky asked.

"There are two of you."

Ricky grinned. I pointed at him.

"Don't encourage him."

"I haven't done anything."

"You've been here ten minutes. Give it time."

Lady shoved herself between Ricky and Cassie, apparently deciding she'd gone long enough without being the center of attention. Cassie looked down at her.

"Lady! Leave him alone."

Ricky crouched again and scratched her behind the ears.

"She's fine."

"You say that now. Wait until she decides your shoes belong to her."

"I've had worse roommates."

Something about the way he said it made me laugh. Kat looked toward the bags Ricky and I were still holding.

"Are those my crab rangoons?"

I held up one of the bags.

"Yes, woman! I'm sorry. In my defense, I got a little distracted."

"Then why are we still standing in the entryway?"

"Because my brother unexpectedly showed up after six years!"

"And I am very happy to see him. I would be even happier to see him while eating my crab rangoons."

Ricky laughed.

"Some things really don't change."

Kat smiled at him.

"You have no idea."

We started toward the kitchen. Cassie fell into step beside Ricky, already asking him something about the drive. Kat came over beside me and slipped her hand into mine. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. I squeezed her hand.

Ahead of us, Ricky laughed at something Cassie said as Lady followed directly at his heels. I stopped for half a second and just watched. My fiancée. Cassie. Lady. My little brother. All walking through my house together. My family.

Six years ago, Ricky and I were two kids trying to get as far away from that fucking trailer as we possibly could. Now he was here. I had no idea what was coming next. For once, I didn't need to. My little brother was home. That was enough for tonight.

We set everything out on the kitchen table instead of the dining room table. This was a family dinner, not someone we were hosting. Kat immediately started digging through the bags.

"Where are my crab rangoons?"

"I literally just put the bags down."

"I've been waiting."

"For like 35 minutes."

"35 minutes longer than I wanted to wait."

Ricky sat across from her and laughed.

"I see absolutely nothing has changed."

Kat finally found the container she was looking for and pointed a crab rangoon at him.

"You haven't seen me since I was sixteen. You have no idea what has changed."

"I know you still get mean when you're hungry."

"I do not get mean."

I sat down beside her.

"You absolutely get mean."

"Whose side are you on?"

"His."

"Thank you," Ricky said.

Kat looked between us.

"Oh, this is going to be fucking annoying."

Cassie sat down beside Ricky. "I've been thinking that since he walked in."

"Et tu, Cassie?"

She stared at me.

"Don't bring Shakespeare into this."

"I teach English. I'm contractually obligated."

Ricky looked at me.

"You really are a teacher, aren't you?"

"Why does everybody keep saying that like they're surprised?"

"Because you used to put me in a headlock and fart on me."

Kat nearly choked on her crab rangoon.

I pointed at Ricky.

"I was twelve."

"You did it more than once."

"I was still twelve at the time."

Cassie started laughing.

"Oh my God."

"I was an excellent older brother."

"You were a menace."

"You joined the Marines. Clearly, I prepared you for adversity."

Ricky laughed hard enough that he had to put his beer down.

"That's fair."

I smiled.

This was what I had missed.

Not some grand emotional conversation. Not talking about deployments or Dad or everything that had happened since we were kids. Just this. Sitting across from my little brother while he talked shit. Kat leaned against me slightly as she ate.

"So what do you remember about me?"

Ricky thought about it.

"You were Robbie's best friend who he was very obviously in love with."

"I was not very obviously in love with her."

Ricky and Kat both looked at me.

"What?"

Kat smiled.

"Nothing, baby."

Ricky shook his head.

"Six years and still fucking delusional."

"Fuck you."

Cassie looked between them. "Wait. How much did you know?"

"About Kat?"

"Yeah."

Ricky looked at me.

"Everything."

"Bullshit."

"Pretty close."

I narrowed my eyes.

Ricky smiled.

"He talked about her constantly."

"I did not."

"You did."

Kat looked entirely too pleased with herself.

"Interesting."

"Don't."

Ricky continued, "Kat said this. Kat did that. Kat thinks this. Kat wants to go here."

"You're making shit up now."

"I distinctly remember you being pissed off when she moved."

That shut me up. Kat's expression softened. Ricky looked at her.

"He tried to pretend he wasn't."

"Of course he did."

"I was fine. Besides, pissed isn't the right word to describe what I was."

"You were fucking miserable."

I took a drink of my beer.

"I liked Texas less after she left."

Kat smiled.

"That may be the most Robbie way you could possibly admit that."

Ricky laughed.

Cassie looked at Kat. "And then you two just randomly found each other again?"

"At my grandparents' bookstore."

"Bullshit," Ricky said.

Kat laughed. "Nope."

"You're serious?"

"Completely."

He looked at me.

"You ran into her at a bookstore?"

"Yeah."

"The girl you were in love with when you were kids?"

"I wasn't..."

Three voices immediately interrupted me.

"Yes, you were."

I stared around the table.

"Fuck all of you."

Ricky laughed.

"Okay, I need this story."

Kat and I looked at each other.

"Which version?" she asked.

"There are versions?"

"His version and the accurate version."

"My version is accurate."

"Your version conveniently leaves out how fucking awkward you were."

"I was not awkward."

Kat turned to Ricky.

"He walked into Henderson's, saw me, and basically forgot how to function."

"That is wildly exaggerated."

"It really isn't," Kat said.

Ricky grinned.

"Please continue."

So, we did. Between the two of us, we gave him the abbreviated version. Running into each other at Henderson's. Finding out we were both different people than the teenagers we remembered. Getting together. Me getting hurt. Wrestling ending. That part got quieter.

Ricky already knew about the accident. We'd talked after it happened. But there was a difference between knowing I'd fucked up my knee and sitting across from me while Kat explained what those months had actually looked like. Ricky looked at me.

"You never told me it got that bad."

I shrugged.

"You were deployed."

"You still could've told me."

"You couldn't exactly do anything about it from the other side of the world."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't tell me."

I looked at him. There wasn't anger behind it. Just something I understood.

"Yeah," I said. "I probably should've."

He nodded.

"Probably."

Kat reached under the table and squeezed my leg. I smiled slightly.

"I'm good now."

Ricky looked around the kitchen.

"No shit."

I laughed. From there, the conversation got easier again. We told him about moving to Pennsylvania. The house. My job at Stonebridge. Kat and Cassie's plans for The Bowery. The settlement came up somewhere in the middle of it. Ricky stared at me.

"Wait."

"What?"

"You bought the building?"

"Yeah."

"The whole building?"

"Yeah."

"And they own the bookstore?"

"Fifty-fifty," Cassie said.

"But you own the building?"

"Technically, Stockton Holdings owns the building."

Ricky stared at me.

"Stockton Holdings?"

I sighed.

"Saul named it."

"Who the fuck is Saul?"

"My wealth manager."

Ricky slowly put his food down.

"Your what?"

I looked at Kat.

"I told him about the settlement."

"Apparently not very well," she said.

"I told him I got a settlement."

Ricky looked at me.

"You did not tell me you have a fucking wealth manager."

"I didn't think that was important."

"How much money did you get?"

I hesitated. Ricky's eyes narrowed.

"Robbie."

"Around ten."

"Ten what?"

I looked at him.

His expression changed.

"No fucking way."

"Yeah."

"Ten million dollars?"

"Approximately."

Ricky stared at me.

Cassie took a bite of her food.

"This was pretty much our reaction too."

"Holy shit."

"I invested most of it."

"Of course you did."

"What does that mean?"

"You're the only person I know who could get ten million dollars and somehow make it boring."

Kat started laughing.

"Thank you!"

"I'm responsible. Besides, I didn't earn it."

"You bought a fucking mansion."

"That was later."

Ricky gestured around us.

"This is later!"

I laughed.

"Fine."

He looked around the kitchen again.

"Jesus Christ."

"It's weird for me too."

"You have a wealth manager."

"Apparently that's the part you're stuck on."

"Because you used to steal my Pop-Tarts."

"I didn't have ten million dollars then."

Ricky shook his head.

"Unbelievable."

Cassie pointed at me with her chopsticks.

"He still steals food."

"Thank you," Kat said.

"Why am I being attacked in my own home?"

"Because it's fun," Cassie said.

Ricky nodded. "I like her."

"Don't."

Cassie smiled. "I like him too."

"Fantastic."

Ricky looked between Cassie and Kat.

"So how do you two know each other?"

That opened another door. Cassie gave him the condensed version of her and Kat growing up together, their friendship, college, and eventually moving out here. She told him about The Bowery and how she had wanted something that actually felt like hers instead of just following Kat across the country. I noticed Ricky listening more closely to that part.

"So you just picked up and moved here?" he asked.

Cassie shrugged.

"Pretty much."

"Wasn't that terrifying?"

"Absolutely."

"And you did it anyway?"

"Yep."

Ricky nodded slowly.

"Good to know."

Cassie looked at him curiously.

"Why?"

"No reason."

I knew there was a reason. I let it go. Then Ricky looked at me.

"Wait. So Cassie lives here?"

"Sort of."

Cassie laughed.

"We covered this already."

"I know she lives in the pool house. I'm still trying to understand why."

"She was living in the in-law suite downstairs," Kat explained.

Ricky looked at me.

"And then?"

"Robbie decided I needed my own house," Cassie said.

"I did not decide you needed your own house."

"You renovated an entire pool house for me."

"It was already a pool house."

"It had a bathroom and a wet bar."

"It had walls."

Cassie looked at Ricky.

"This is what he does."

"What?"

She pointed at me.

"He decides somebody he cares about has a problem and then goes, 'I got you,' and suddenly shit starts happening."

Kat nodded.

"Accurate."

"I don't say it like that."

"You absolutely do," Kat said.

Ricky looked at me. Then he started laughing.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, what?"

He shook his head.

"I'm just realizing I probably should've expected the offer to move in."

I smiled.

"Yeah, probably."

Cassie looked between us.

"You offered him a room already?"

"Of course he did," Ricky said.

"He's been here like an hour."

"35 minutes," I said.

Kat looked at me.

"35 minutes?"

"Something like that."

"And you already tried to move him in?"

"I have room, and he is my fucking brother!"

Kat laughed.

Ricky smiled and shook his head.

"He offered me the in-law suite."

Cassie gasped dramatically.

"My old room?"

"Apparently."

She looked at Ricky.

"It's actually really nice."

"Cass."

"What? I'm just saying."

Ricky laughed.

"I appreciate the sales pitch, but I told him I want to get my own place."

Cassie nodded immediately.

"I get that."

That surprised him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Having people who love you enough to give you somewhere to land is amazing. Having somewhere that's actually yours is different."

Ricky looked at her for a second.

"Exactly."

I noticed it. Not anything romantic. Just recognition. Cassie understood what he meant without him having to explain it again. Kat looked at me. I already knew what she was thinking. Don't fix it. I gave her a tiny nod. I knew. Probably.

Ricky picked up his beer.

"So let me make sure I understand everything."

"Oh God," I said.

He started counting on his fingers.

"You randomly reunited with the girl you were in love with as a teenager."

"Allegedly."

"Got engaged to her."

"Yes."

"Destroyed your knee."

"Technically, that happened before the engagement."

"Got a ten-million-dollar settlement."

"Approximately."

"Became a high school English teacher."

"Yeah."

"Moved to Pennsylvania."

"Yeah."

"Bought this fucking place."

"Yeah."

"Bought another building."

"Stockton Holdings bought another building."

"Shut the fuck up."

Kat started laughing.

"Your fiancée and her best friend are opening a bookstore in it."

"Correct."

"Her best friend lives in your pool house."

Cassie raised her hand. "That's me."

"And she has a dog named Lady."

Lady's head popped up from where she was lying under the table. Ricky pointed down at her.

"That one I understand."

"Glad we found something."

"And now you're thinking about coaching wrestling again?"

I paused.

"I didn't tell you that."

Kat looked at me.

"You didn't tell us either."

Fuck. Ricky smiled.

"Gotcha."

I stared at him.

"You're still an asshole."

"You walked right into that."

Kat turned toward me.

"Coaching?"

"Maybe."

Her expression immediately softened.

"Really?"

"Maybe. I met the coaches today. They asked if I'd be interested in helping."

Kat smiled. Not the huge, excited smile I might've expected a couple years ago. Something quieter.

"Do you want to?"

I thought about it.

"Yeah."

That answer came easier than I expected.

"I think I do."

She squeezed my hand.

"Then maybe you should."

Ricky watched us for a moment.

"That's fucking weird."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"You talking about wrestling like that."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged.

"Last time I saw you, wrestling was your entire fucking life."

I sat back slightly.

"Yeah."

"Now it's just something you might want to do."

I thought about that. He wasn't wrong.

"Things change."

Ricky looked around the table. At Kat. At Cassie. At the house around us. Then back at me.

"Apparently."

For a second, the four of us were quiet. Then Kat reached for another crab rangoon. Ricky watched her.

"How many of those have you eaten?"

Kat froze.

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm starting to understand the urgency."

"I waited twenty minutes."

"I heard."

"You weren't here."

"I heard about it."

I laughed.

There it was again. Normal. For the first time in years, my little brother wasn't a voice coming through my phone from somewhere I couldn't see. He was sitting at my kitchen table, drinking my beer, giving my fiancée shit, talking to Cassie like he'd known her longer than an hour. I didn't know why he'd left the Marines. I didn't know what had happened with Dad. I didn't know what he was going to do for work or where he was going to live. There were a hundred questions I still wanted answers to. But looking around that table, none of them felt particularly urgent. We had time.

We had asked him why he got out, but he told us he wasn't quite ready for that story just yet, and we all respected that. He was a combat Marine who had been actively deployed. The three of us knew the potential weight that carried. After dinner, we gave him the full tour of the house before sitting around the fire pit on the back deck upstairs, looking down over the pool, and continued catching up. It was after one when we finally realized what time it was. As much as I wanted to clear my schedule, it was my first couple of days at a brand-new school, so I knew I couldn't do that. So, we called it a night after I insisted he come back the following afternoon so we could talk more.

He agreed, so we all said good night. He went to his hotel, Cassie went to the pool house that was now her house, and Kat and I went to bed. Kat knew I had so much on my mind, but also knew I needed the time to process, so she didn't push. Before we went to bed, she simply asked if I was alright. When I said yeah, she kissed me and told me she was ready to talk when I was.

The following morning, I forced myself to get ready and go to work like normal. I had responsibilities. Imani commented on me driving my Chevy 2500 instead of my Hellcat. I informed her that Baby was meant for special occasions. I sat through the tedious meetings, the department meetings, and all the monotony of these PD days that apparently were universally monotonous regardless of state or district. I thanked God that today was supposed to end early.

Before I left, I stopped by to see Henry and Alex. They showed me the wrestling room, which was impressive. They had an entire dedicated space upstairs as part of their massive field house that had been added on just a few years ago. Mats lined the floor wall to wall, the pillars and walls were padded, and off to the side was a dedicated workout area with weight machines and cardio equipment. It wasn't quite on par with the wrestling room at Michigan, but fuck, it was close.

They knew they had my interest. I decided, as always, the direct approach was best. I asked them how they saw this working if I came on. They told me this season Henry would still be head coach, Alex would be the JV head coach, and I would be an assistant coach to both, along with Henry's son Derek when work allowed him. I wasn't quite ready to commit yet, and I needed some time. They respected that answer.

On the way home, I called Saul. He had told me that he was happy I was open to real estate after we got the building for the girls. In particular, he had acquired an apartment complex to expand our LLC, Stockton Holdings. When Saul answered, I got right to business.

"Hey, Saul, I remember you telling me about that apartment complex we bought over in Crestwick. You said that's about 20 minutes from here?"

"Approximately, yes. Why?"

"And we already closed on it?"

"Stockton Holdings closed last week."

"Remind me what exactly we bought."

There was a brief silence.

"Did you forget what you bought?"

"No... I remember three buildings. I don't remember all the details."

"You own too much real estate for someone who doesn't remember what he owns."

"That's why I have you."

"That is not the reassuring statement you think it is."

I laughed.

"Come on, Saul."

"Three buildings. Eight apartments per building. Twenty-four units total. Each building has four one-bedroom, one-bath units on the ground floor and four two-bedroom, two-bath units upstairs."

"Right. And most of them are occupied?"

"Twenty-two currently. We inherited the existing leases with the property. We have one vacant one-bedroom and one vacant two-bedroom."

"And we were going to renovate them as they became vacant, right?"

"That was the plan. The property is structurally sound and reasonably well maintained, but the units are dated. Rather than displacing existing tenants or renovating occupied units, we'll update them as leases naturally turn over."

"New flooring, paint, appliances, that kind of shit?"

"Among other things. Kitchens and bathrooms where necessary, fixtures, cosmetic repairs. Nothing particularly exotic. The extent will vary by unit."

"And we're hiring contractors for all of that?"

"Currently, yes."

I smiled.

"Interesting."

There was a pause.

"I don't like the way you said that."

"What?"

"You've suddenly become interested in the operational details of an apartment complex you've owned for approximately a week."

"I'm always interested in my investments."

"No, you're not."

I laughed.

"Fair."

"What are you doing?"

"My brother showed up last night."

"Ricky?"

"You remember his name?"

"I manage your finances, Robbie. Knowing who your immediate family members are is useful."

"Anyway, he's out of the Marines."

"For good?"

"Far as I can tell. His enlistment was up. He decided not to reenlist."

"I see."

"He's thinking about staying in Pennsylvania."

"And I'm assuming you've already offered him somewhere to live."

"Immediately."

"Of course you did."

"He said no."

"That surprises me."

"He wants his own place. I actually get it. But he also needs a job, and when I remembered the apartments, I started thinking."

"That sentence generally costs you money."

"Just listen."

"Go ahead."

"You said we were going to hire a property management company for the apartments."

"Yes."

"What exactly are we paying them to do?"

"Day-to-day management. Rent collection, tenant communication, lease administration, coordinating turnovers, maintenance requests, emergency calls, inspections, vendor coordination. The precise responsibilities depend on the agreement we finalize."

"And maintenance costs extra?"

"Generally, yes. Management and maintenance are related, but they aren't necessarily the same expense."

"Explain."

"The management fee pays the company to manage the property. If a tenant reports a leaking sink, the management company receives the request and makes sure someone addresses it. The actual repair, labor, materials, outside contractor, if necessary, is an expense to the property."

"So, I pay them to answer the phone, then I pay somebody else to fix the sink."

"That is an aggressively simplified description."

"Is it wrong?"

"No."

"Hey! Now we're making progress."

Saul laughed.

"What about having a maintenance company?"

"That would be another option. You can contract routine maintenance separately, use the management company's personnel if they have them, or hire someone directly. Again, I'd need to compare the actual costs."

"And we're also paying contractors every time one of those apartments becomes vacant and needs to be renovated."

"Yes."

"That's where I'm going with this."

"I assumed there was a destination eventually."

"Ricky can do that shit."

"Define 'that shit.'"

"Maintenance. Repairs. Renovations. He's good with his hands. When he wasn't deployed somewhere, maintenance was part of what he did."

"What kind of maintenance?"

"A little bit of everything from what he's told me over the years. Keeping shit working, fixing things, inspections, basic repairs. I don't know what the Marine Corps calls it or exactly what all he was qualified for."

"Then that's something we would need to establish."

"Obviously. I'm not going to have him rewiring an apartment building because he once changed an outlet."

"Good."

"But basic plumbing, drywall, flooring, painting, replacing fixtures, putting cabinets in, repairing shit, getting a unit ready for the next tenant? Yeah. I'm pretty damn sure he can handle most of that."

"And anything requiring a licensed contractor?"

"We hire a licensed contractor."

"Good."

"So here's my question. Instead of paying a management company, then a maintenance company, then contractors for every little thing, what if Stockton Holdings hired Ricky?"

"To do what specifically?"

"Local property manager."

Saul didn't answer immediately.

"He handles the apartments. Tenants have a problem, he's their first call. He figures out what's wrong. If he can fix it, he fixes it. If he can't or it needs somebody licensed, he calls the contractor. He meets vendors, handles inspections, keeps an eye on the buildings, deals with turnovers."

"And The Bowery?"

"Same thing. He doesn't have anything to do with Kat and Cassie's business, obviously. But the building belongs to Stockton Holdings. If something on the landlord side needs attention, Ricky handles it."

"That's reasonable."

"And when an apartment opens up, instead of automatically paying a contractor to renovate the entire thing, Ricky does whatever work he's actually qualified to do."

"That could materially change the economics."

I smiled.

"That's what I thought."

"Don't celebrate yet."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Maybe a little."

Saul continued.

"There are still costs. Salary. Payroll taxes. Workers' compensation. Insurance. Potential benefits. Equipment. Materials. Possibly a vehicle allowance eventually. And we'd need to be very clear about what work he's legally permitted and insured to perform."

"Fine."

"But yes. If we're already planning ongoing unit renovations and he can legitimately perform a substantial portion of that work, the argument for bringing the position in-house becomes stronger."

"Especially if we buy more properties."

"Correct. If Stockton Holdings continues acquiring local residential or commercial properties, a dedicated property manager becomes progressively easier to justify."

"Okay. Now the other part."

"Of course there's another part."

"I want to give him one of the apartments."

"Robbie."

"Not give it to him. Let him live there."

"For free?"

"Maybe. Or reduced rent. Whatever makes the most sense. Salary plus the apartment."

"That can be done."

"Yeah? It's not a weird situation?"

"Providing housing as part of an employee's compensation isn't unusual, particularly for an on-site property manager."

"Good."

"But it needs to be structured correctly. The value of the housing can have tax and compensation implications. We'll have your accountant determine the appropriate treatment."

"That's why I have accountants."

"Yes."

"I teach English. You guys do money shit."

"I remember."

I smiled.

"So let's say we hire him. He's responsible for all three apartment buildings and The Bowery building. He handles tenant issues, basic maintenance, vendor coordination, inspections, turnovers, and whatever renovation work he's actually qualified to perform. We give him the vacant one-bedroom free or heavily discounted. What kind of salary are we talking?"

"I haven't run the numbers."

"I know. I'm asking ballpark."

"Robbie..."

"I'm not asking you to approve it. I want a number I can throw at him this afternoon. Something where, if he says yes, you're not going to call me five minutes later and tell me I've completely fucked this up."

Saul was quiet for a moment.

"If his experience checks out, and the position includes the responsibilities you've just described?"

"Yeah."

"And we're including a one-bedroom apartment as part of the compensation?"

"Yeah."

"I'd be comfortable discussing something around sixty thousand dollars annually plus housing as a starting point."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Sixty?"

"As a ballpark, Robbie. Not an offer I've approved."

"I know."

"Depending on the actual scope of the job and the value of the housing, perhaps somewhere in the fifty-five to sixty-five thousand range. I need to compare that against management fees, anticipated maintenance costs, projected turnovers, renovation expenses, and the value of the apartment."

"But sixty isn't stupid."

"No."

"And if I tell him sixty plus an apartment, you're not going to murder me?"

"I'll merely be irritated that you made an employment offer before allowing me to finish the analysis."

"That's basically your normal state."

"Unfortunately."

I laughed.

"Would it actually save us money?"

"It could."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only responsible answer I can give you without the numbers in front of me."

"Fine."

"If you're paying an outside management company a percentage of collected rents, paying separately for maintenance, and then hiring contractors every time you turn over and renovate a unit, an employee capable of absorbing a significant portion of those responsibilities could absolutely make financial sense."

"Good."

"Particularly if you're planning to acquire additional properties."

"Am I?"

Saul let out a frustrated sigh. "You are."

"And he'd have somewhere to live?"

"Yes."

"Twenty minutes from me?"

"Yes."

"And a job?"

"Yes."

I smiled.

"Robbie."

"What?"

"That's the part I'm concerned about."

"What part?"

"You stopped talking about Stockton Holdings and started talking about your brother."

I went quiet.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to help Ricky. But those are two separate questions. Is hiring an in-house property manager a sound decision for Stockton Holdings? And is Ricky the right person for that job?"

"I think he is."

"You've been reunited with him for less than twenty-four hours."

"I've known him his entire life."

"That's not the same thing as knowing whether he's qualified to manage twenty-four tenants and a commercial property."

He had a good point.

"So, what do I do?"

"Talk to him."

"I was planning on it."

"Actually talk to him, Robbie. Ask what he did in the Marines. Ask what maintenance experience he has. Ask what he wants to do now."

"Okay."

"Don't simply inform him that you've solved his employment and housing situation."

I smiled.

"I wasn't going to phrase it like that."

"That isn't what I said."

I laughed.

"Fine."

"If he's interested, I'll have someone sit down with him and go through his experience. We'll determine what he's qualified to handle, define the position properly, and I'll run the numbers."

"And if the numbers work?"

"Then Stockton Holdings hires him as an employee."

"Not me."

"Correct."

"Good."

"He gets a job title. Defined responsibilities. A market-based salary. Payroll. Whatever benefits we determine are appropriate. If housing is part of his compensation, that's documented as well."

"And he has somebody to answer to who isn't his older brother."

"That would be preferable for both of you."

"Definitely."

"And if he doesn't do the job?"

I knew what Saul was asking.

"Then he gets treated like an employee."

"Can you do that?"

I thought about it.

"It would be hard."

"I appreciate the honesty."

I laughed.

"That's why he answers to you."

"I walked directly into that."

"You really did."

Saul sighed.

"I can oversee the financial and administrative side initially. If the portfolio grows, we'll probably want someone with more dedicated real-estate oversight above him."

"Perfect."

"And before you ask, no, you are not buying him a truck."

I frowned.

"I wasn't going to ask."

"You were thinking about it."

"He needs to get between the properties."

"The three apartment buildings share a site, and The Bowery is local."

"So you're saying maybe later."

"I am saying no."

"Got it. Revisit later."

"Robbie."

I laughed.

"Okay. Sixty thousand and an apartment is at least a reasonable number for me to talk to him about?"

"As a preliminary discussion. Make it very clear nothing is finalized."

"I will."

"And don't offer him the apartment for free until we determine how we're structuring the housing."

"Fine. Sixty and housing."

"Potential housing."

"Saul."

"Potential housing."

"Fine."

"And Robbie?"

"Yeah?"

"Let him say no."

That stopped me. I knew exactly what he meant.

"Yeah."

"He just spent his entire adult life being told where to live, where to work, and what to do. Don't decide his next life for him because you happen to have the resources to make it easy."

I sat quietly for a second.

"Yeah," I said. "You're right."

"I know."

"Asshole."

"It's why you pay me."

I smiled.

"Run the numbers?"

"I'm already opening the file."

"Thanks, Saul."

"And talk to your brother before you do anything else."

"I will."

"Goodbye, Robbie."

"Bye."

He hung up. I set my phone down. Sixty grand. An apartment. A job he already knew how to do, at least in part. Twenty minutes away from us. It made sense. At least I thought it did, but Saul was right about one thing. For the first time in his adult life, Ricky got to decide what came next. So I'd give him the option. What he did with it was up to him.

I picked my phone back up and called Ricky. Since he wasn't doing anything, I told him I would pick him up and take a ride. I did exactly that. I picked him up, and we drove over to Crestwick. We drove up to the buildings. Ricky noticed the sign that indicated that units were available.

"Really, Robbie? I don't even have a job yet."

"Would you just trust me?"

"You're not getting me an apartment."

"Never said I was."

"Then what..."

"Would you just fuckin' trust me!"

He begrudgingly agreed. We walked up to the building and into the open-air hallway between the units. I had gotten the number for the key lockbox that was temporarily mounted to the door, so I put it in to get the key. Ricky looked apprehensive. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting Ricky walk in ahead of me. The apartment wasn't bad. It was just old.

We walked directly into a small entryway with the kitchen off to the left. The cabinets were that yellowish oak that seemed to be in every apartment built before either of us were born, with faded laminate countertops and old white appliances that had probably been there almost as long. A little breakfast bar separated the kitchen from the living room.

The living room took up most of the front of the apartment, with sliding glass doors leading out to a small covered patio. It was actually a decent-sized room and got plenty of light. Definitely enough space for a couch, TV, and whatever else a twenty-two-year-old single dude actually needed.

A short hallway ran down the other side. There was a laundry closet with a washer and dryer, which was nice, a full bathroom that desperately needed to escape 1997, and a pretty decent bedroom at the back. There was also a smaller room near the front they were calling a den. It wasn't really big enough to be another bedroom, but it would make a decent office, gaming room, or whatever Ricky might want to do with it.

The carpet needed to go. The walls were an ugly off-white. The light fixtures looked like somebody had bought them in bulk twenty-something years ago and never thought about them again. But the bones were good.

New flooring, paint, cabinets, countertops, fixtures, and appliances, and this place would actually be pretty fucking nice. Ricky slowly turned in the middle of the living room, taking everything in.

"So?" I asked.

He looked at me.

"So what?"

"What do you think?"

"About the apartment?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "It's dated as fuck, but it's not bad."

I smiled.

"That's pretty much what Saul said. You think it needs some work?"

Ricky looked around the living room again.

"Need? Probably not much."

"What does that mean?"

"Means there's a difference between shit that's broken and shit that's ugly."

I laughed. "And?"

"Most of this is ugly."

He walked over to the wall and ran his hand across it before looking down at the carpet.

"Carpets are fucked. I'd pull all of it, either replace it or switch to laminate flooring if you want to modernize. Paint's old, but the walls look fine. Couple spots I'd patch, but with rentals that's to be expected. Baseboards are beat to shit, but you could probably save most of them."

He headed into the kitchen and opened one of the cabinets, then another.

"Cabinets are ugly as hell."

"That's the professional assessment?"

"Very technical term."

He grabbed one of the doors and gave it a little shake before looking at the hinges.

"But they're solid. You'd be wasting money ripping these out. Sand them, stain them, new hardware. Countertops I'd replace. Appliances too. Some modern stainless steel ones would look real nice in here."

He crouched down and looked underneath the sink.

"No obvious water damage. That's good."

"You can tell that just by looking?"

"I can tell there isn't a giant fucking stain under the sink."

"Oh, that makes sense."

I laughed as he stood back up.

He checked the bathroom next, turning on the faucet and letting it run for a few seconds before flushing the toilet.

"Bathroom is dated too. Caulk needs to be redone. I'd replace the fixtures. Probably the vanity. Tub looks fine from here."

"From here?"

"Yeah. I'm not Superman, asshole. I'd have to actually inspect shit before I told you there wasn't anything wrong with it."

Fair enough.

He walked back into the living room and looked around one more time.

"Honestly? Assuming there's nothing hiding behind the walls, this place doesn't need a renovation. It needs an update."

"What's the difference?"

"Money."

I laughed.

"Seriously. Flooring, paint, fixtures, countertops, probably appliances. Refinish the cabinets instead of replacing them. Clean everything up. Maybe swap some of these lights out so it doesn't look like somebody's grandma picked them."

"How long?"

He shrugged.

"If it's just me? Couple weeks, maybe. Depends on what you find once you start pulling shit apart and how much you want done. Get another person in here with me and have all the materials ready before we start? Faster."

I stared at him. He noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"Where you already decided something and you're waiting for me to figure out what the fuck it is."

"I don't do that."

"You've done that since we were kids."

"I'm just thinking, Ricky. Let me ruminate."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. A text from Saul Whitaker. That was convenient.

The text read: Ran the preliminary numbers. You were right, annoyingly. Bringing local property management/maintenance in-house makes financial sense at the scope we discussed. You have my green light at $60K plus the 1BR as part of the compensation package, assuming Ricky's experience checks out. Give me a few days to have the employment agreement, benefits, payroll, insurance and housing terms put together properly. You can discuss the position with him today. Make it clear the formal offer is contingent on us finalizing the details. And before you ask: no, you still cannot buy him a truck.

I put my phone back in my pocket and looked back at Ricky.

"I have a proposition for you, kid."

"We are both adults. You can stop calling me kid."

"I would, but I won't."

"Dick."

"Anyways, you don't want me to give you money. That's fair. I know I can't fix whatever it is you're dealing with, and I don't want to. But I do have something that could be mutually beneficial for both of us."

Ricky narrowed his eyes.

"That sounds suspicious."

"Just hear me out."

"Okay."

I motioned around the apartment.

"Stockton Holdings just bought this place. Three buildings, eight units each. Twenty-four apartments total."

Ricky looked around.

"Okay."

"We were going to hire a property management company to handle everything. Tenants, maintenance, turnovers, coordinating contractors, all that shit. Then pay other people to update the units as they became vacant."

I pointed toward the kitchen.

"Basically, pay a bunch of people to do everything you just spent fifteen minutes telling me you know how to do."

Ricky stared at me.

"Robbie."

"Just listen."

"You're offering me a job."

"I'm offering you the opportunity to take a job."

"What's the difference?"

"Saul would probably know."

Ricky laughed despite himself.

"Jesus Christ."

"The job would be local property manager for Stockton Holdings. You'd handle these three buildings and the building Kat and Cassie's bookstore is in. Tenant issues, basic maintenance, inspections, turnovers, contractors when something is outside what you can do. When units open up, you handle whatever renovations you're qualified to handle."

"You made up a job for me."

"No."

His expression told me he didn't believe me.

"Seriously. That's why I was talking to Saul. We already need somebody doing this shit. We were going to pay a management company, maintenance people, and contractors to do it. Saul ran the numbers while we were here."

"That was the text?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"He said bringing it in-house makes financial sense."

Ricky looked around the apartment again.

"And you're just going to hire your brother."

"If you want it and you're qualified."

"You remember I'm your brother, right?"

"Unfortunately."

He flipped me off.

I smiled.

"Saul wants to go through your actual experience first. Figure out what you can do, what you can't, what needs licensed contractors, all that shit. You'd answer to him on the business side, not me."

"Not you?"

"Fuck no. I'd be a terrible boss."

"At least you're self-aware."

"I'm growing."

Ricky shook his head.

"How many people do you even have working for you?"

I thought about it.

"I have no idea."

He stared at me.

"You don't know how many employees you have?"

"Technically, I don't know if I have any employees."

"You just offered me a fucking job."

"Yeah."

"Would I be your first employee?"

"Maybe."

Ricky stared at me for several seconds.

"How the fuck do you own twenty-four apartments?"

"Saul."

"That's not an answer."

"You haven't met Saul yet. It absolutely is."

Ricky laughed and rubbed his hand over his face.

"This is fucking ridiculous."

"Probably. You want to hear what it pays?"

That got his attention.

"How much?"

"Ballpark right now because Saul still has to put everything together. Sixty a year."

Ricky's eyebrows went up.

"Sixty thousand?"

"Yeah. Benefits too. Saul said he needs a few days to figure out the package, insurance, payroll, contracts, and whatever other boring shit he does."

Ricky stared at me.

"That's a real salary."

"It's a real job."

He looked around the apartment again.

"And I'm guessing this is where you get clever about the apartment."

I smiled.

"Housing would be part of the compensation package."

"Robbie."

"Saul's idea too."

"Bullshit."

"Fine, that part was my idea. But he said it's normal for an on-site property manager. We haven't figured out whether it'd be free or reduced rent or how any of that works yet. Apparently, there are tax implications."

"Of course there are."

"Saul said the accountant will handle it."

Ricky was quiet.

"So, you're not paying my rent?"

"No. Stockton Holdings would be providing housing to its property manager as part of his compensation."

"Who happens to be your brother."

"If he wants the job."

Ricky studied me.

"And if I don't?"

I shrugged.

"Then you don't."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

He looked skeptical.

"You're not going to spend the next month trying to convince me?"

"I mean, I'll probably think you're a dumbass."

"Robbie."

I smiled.

"No. Saul made me promise I'd let you say no."

Ricky laughed quietly.

"I think I like Saul."

"Everybody fucking likes Saul."

He walked toward the sliding door and looked out over the patio for a moment.

"Sixty thousand?"

"Around there. Nothing's official until Saul does Saul shit."

"Benefits?"

"Yep."

"And this place?"

"Or whatever arrangement you and Saul work out. Not me."

He turned around.

"And you actually need somebody to do this?"

"Yes."

"You'd hire somebody either way?"

"Yes."

That seemed to be the answer he needed.

Ricky nodded slowly.

"Then yeah."

I blinked.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. If Saul looks at my experience and thinks I can do the job, I'll do it."

I smiled.

"Seriously?"

"Don't make this weird."

"I'm not making it weird."

"You're about five seconds away from hugging me."

I stepped toward him.

"Don't."

"Come here, little brother."

"Robbie, I swear to fucking God."

I grabbed him anyway and pulled him into a hug. A big bear hug, lifting him off his feet.

"Goddammit."

I laughed and let him go.

"Welcome to Stockton Holdings."

Ricky shook his head.

"I can't believe I work for you."

"Technically, I think you work for Saul."

He thought about it for a second.

"That actually makes me feel better."

"Fuck you."

I gave Ricky Saul's number and got the two of them talking so they could hammer out the details. Ricky came over for dinner again that night. It was already starting to feel like that might become a regular thing, and honestly, I was good with that. We decided not to tell Kat and Cassie about the job or apartment until Saul had everything finalized. After dinner, Ricky and I tried to watch a baseball game, but Kat kept interrupting every few minutes with various wedding questions. Flowers, food, music, seating, shit I hadn't even realized needed decisions. I could tell she was mostly collecting ideas to take back to the wedding planner. Ricky got a kick out of watching me repeatedly attempt to answer questions about a wedding I was apparently much less prepared for than I thought.

Eventually, Ricky headed back to his hotel and Cassie wandered out to the pool house. Kat and I went to bed not long after. By the time I woke up the next morning, my little brother had been back in my life for less than two days and somehow already felt like he had never left.

The next day, I got ready for work and went in for my last teacher workday without students. I still had some things to finalize, finish setting up the room, all the last-minute things. About an hour before lunch, I got a text from Kat asking if it was okay for her to bring me lunch. I responded that of course she could.

Kat's POV

I came in at lunch, bringing subs from a deli he liked nearby. He showed me around the new school, introduced me to Imani and his other new coworkers, and finally showed me his room. I was impressed with how he made the lecture-style room feel more homey instead of institutional. We made our way to his office, where we proceeded to eat the subs I brought for lunch as we talked.

"So how are you doing?" I asked.

Robbie looked up from his sandwich. "Good."

"That was convincing."

"I am."

"I know you are doing well here, but how are you doing with Ricky?"

He leaned back in his chair and thought about it for a second.

"Honestly? Better than I thought I would be."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. It's weird."

"Good weird?"

He smiled.

"Yeah. Good weird. It's just crazy having him back to stay."

I smiled back at him.

"I like having him here."

"I noticed."

"Was I being obvious?"

"A little bit."

"It's hard to believe it's been six years already."

"I know."

His smile faded just slightly.

"I just wish I knew what was going on with him."

"He'll tell you."

"I hope so. I know it has to be on his time, though."

"Do you know that?"

Robbie looked at me.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have this adorable little habit where somebody you love has a problem and you immediately start trying to fix it."

"I don't do that."

I stared at him. He stared back.

"Okay. Maybe a little."

"You renovated a house for Cassie."

"It was a pool house."

"You renovated an entire building for our bookstore."

"I bought the building. You guys are renovating it."

"You bought me a house."

"Technically, I bought myself a house and allowed you to live there."

I narrowed my eyes. He smiled.

"Rent free, I might add."

"Oh, fuck you."

He laughed.

"See? I'm learning."

"Learning what?"

"Not to fix everything."

I raised an eyebrow. There was something about the way he said it that made me suspicious.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Robbie."

"I didn't do anything."

"That was your guilty voice."

"I don't have a guilty voice."

"You absolutely have a guilty voice."

He took another bite of his sandwich.

"Ricky and I talked. That's all."

I studied him.

"About?"

"Life."

"Very specific."

"I'm respecting his privacy."

That surprised me enough that I stopped pushing.

"Okay."

Robbie smiled.

"See? Growth."

"I'm so proud of you, baby."

"Thank you."

"Should I get you a sticker?"

"Gold star."

"Obviously."

I took another bite of my sandwich and looked around his office.

It wasn't huge, but it was bigger than I expected for a private office attached to a classroom. His desk took up one side, there were shelves behind him, a couple chairs, filing cabinets, and just enough room that it didn't feel cramped.

It had no windows. I looked toward the door. Robbie noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're looking at my door."

"I'm looking around."

"You've seen the room."

"Maybe I'm appreciating it."

"My office?"

"You did a nice job."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Why do I suddenly feel like you're up to something?"

"I brought you lunch."

"That did not answer my question."

I smiled innocently and took another bite.

"So," I said, "are you excited for Monday?"

"Nice subject change."

"Thank you."

"And yeah. I am."

"Nervous?"

"A little."

That made me smile.

"Really?"

"New school. New kids. AP class I haven't taught before. Of course I'm nervous."

"You'll be great."

"You're required to say that."

"No, I'm required to love you. I can still tell you when you suck at something."

"Comforting."

"Anytime."

He smiled and took another bite.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You interrogated me through half a baseball game last night about the wedding."

"I was not interrogating you."

"You asked me what kind of flowers I wanted while the bases were loaded."

"And?"

"There is a time and place, Katarina."

I gasped.

"You used my government name."

"You earned it."

I laughed.

"I was getting ideas."

"For?"

"The wedding planner."

"Isn't the point of having a wedding planner that she gets the ideas?"

"No. The point is that we tell her what we want and she figures out how to make it happen."

"That sounds like what I do with Saul."

I thought about it.

"Actually, yeah."

"So you have a... wedding Saul."

I laughed.

"Basically."

"That makes so much more sense to me."

I shook my head.

"You're ridiculous."

"You're marrying me."

"I know."

"Still time to run."

"Not a fucking chance."

He smiled at me. That ridiculously charming smile still did things to me. I looked away before he noticed, and my eyes landed on the door again. The lack of windows made it seem much more private. I glanced back at Robbie. He was watching me. I loved how he watched me. He always made me feel like the center of his world.

"What?" he asked.

I looked at the door. Then back at Robbie. He caught me.

"What?" he repeated.

"Nothing."

His eyes narrowed.

"Kat."

I smiled.

"Does your office door lock?" I asked with a sultry and seductive tone.

His eyes flicked toward it.

"Yeah. Why?"

I didn't answer. I just held his gaze. I bit my lower lip as I gave him a playful smirk. Then, very deliberately, I reached down and caught the hem of my dress. Robbie stopped moving as his eyes followed my hands.

That was exactly the reaction I wanted. I let my fingers disappear beneath the fabric, taking my time as I let my fingers slide up the smooth skin of my thighs. His eyes followed the movement before returning to my face, and I gave him the smallest smile.

He knew me well enough to realize I was doing this slowly on purpose. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties beneath my dress and began easing them down, letting the lacy fabric gradually slip lower along my legs.

I knew I had his undivided attention now. I knew how to entice my man, and I planned on giving him the best lunch break a woman could give her man. I loved how quickly his expression changed. A moment ago, he'd been relaxed behind his desk, talking about work and Ricky and our wedding like this was any other lunch. Now he was completely focused on me.

I pushed my panties down past my knees and let them fall the rest of the way, then lifted one foot and slowly stepped free. Then the other.

I turned around and bent over at the waist right in front of him, picked my panties up with two fingers, and straightened. Robbie stared at them, noticing that they were already damp from arousal. Then he looked at me. I casually let my black lace panties dangle from my fingertips.

"Oh," he said.

I smiled.

"Oh?"

His eyes traveled down the length of my dress before meeting mine again.

"That's what we're doing."

"I'm what you will be doing..."

"This is why you came here, isn't it?"

I took a slow step toward him.

"Maybe I was just bringing my man lunch..."

"Maybe..."

I laughed softly.

"You seem awfully confident, Mr. Stockton."

Robbie stood. The amusement in his expression hadn't disappeared, but there was something different behind it now. Something hungry. Something that told me my little performance had worked exactly as intended. His eyes flicked toward the door.

"You're just a naughty girl today, aren't you?"

I laughed.

"Oh, Mr. Stockton, please. As your secretary, I have run out of work to do. Surely there is something else I can help you with!" I said, making a performance out of it.

"Oh yeah? You certainly are a motivated secretary, aren't you?" he said, returning the role-play.

"Oh yes, Mr. Stockton. I take great pride in making sure the man I work under is completely... satisfied..."

He gave me a look that silently told me we must keep this quiet.

"Lock the door."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir."

"That's a good girl."

I smiled and bit my lip. I loved it when he called me a good girl. As someone who was so in control so much of the time, it made me so wet when he took charge and praised me when I satisfied him. I smiled and walked past him toward the door slowly, deliberately taking my time because I knew damn well his eyes were following me and I wanted to build the anticipation.

I turned the lock. I heard the click. When I looked back at him, whatever plans Robbie had originally had for the rest of his lunch break were very clearly gone.

I fully committed to the role-play of the situation. I walked back over to him and pulled him into a deep and passionate kiss. When the kiss broke, I sank down to my knees as I ran my hands down his chest and stomach to his belt buckle. I kept my eyes locked on his as I started undoing his belt.

"Perhaps I could help you relax, Mr. Stockton?" I whispered in my most seductive voice.

I didn't give him a chance to respond. I knew we didn't have all the time in the world, and at that point, he wasn't the only one who needed this. I pulled his throbbing cock out of his boxers and immediately brought my lips to the head. He was so hard I swore he could smash diamonds with his cock. My lips parted around the thick head of his cock, and my tongue instinctively swirled around it. His involuntary moans immediately made me even more ravenous. Even his scent was driving me insane as I took more of his cock into my mouth. There was no slow, deliberate pace this time. I took him all the way to the back of my throat, gagging slightly and coating his cock with a thick layer of saliva. His fingers wrapped tightly in my hair. I could tell he was doing that as a focus to keep himself quiet as opposed to trying to control my pace. I took him all the way to the back of my throat one more time, my eyes locked on his as I gagged slightly.

Robbie pulled his cock from my mouth then, strands of saliva still connecting his cock to my mouth. He stood me up and turned me over so I was facing his desk. He pressed my shoulders forward so I was bent over his desk before pulling up the hem of my dress. As it was bunched around my waist, I heard his gravelly whisper say, "You want your boss's cock, baby?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Stockton! Fuck me like a slutty little secretary!"

He didn't need any more encouragement as he growled at my dirty talk. He loved playing naughty teacher and slutty secretary. One of his hands gripped my hip, the other guided his slick cock to my entrance. I felt his cock slide into my wet pussy and stretch me. My hands gripped the edge of the desk as I bit my lip to keep myself from moaning too loudly. Robbie began pounding my pussy with deep, hard strokes. We were both struggling to keep quiet as he fucked me hard. Having my fiancé pounding my pussy as hard as he could in his brand-new office while trying to stay quiet was turning me on beyond belief.

"Oh fuck yes, Mr. Stockton! I am so fucking wet for you! Pound my pussy! Just like that! God, your cock feels so good, sir!" I moaned.

"Fuck! You're going to make me cum if you keep talking like that!"

I looked back at him over my shoulder and moaned, "Fuck yes! Cum inside me! Fill my pussy with your cum! Cum inside me, sir!"

He slammed his cock deep inside me and let out a low growl of a moan. I felt his cock swell inside of me, followed by the rush of his hot cum filling my pussy. Feeling his load fill me sent me over the edge as well. My legs gave out, shaking beneath me as I collapsed fully onto his desk. I felt his weight almost collapse on top of me before he caught himself. I still felt him lightly twitching inside of me. I enjoyed the sensation of feeling so full in every way imaginable.

Once he caught his breath, he slowly slid his cock out of me after kissing me on the neck and telling me how much he loved me and my surprises. We both stood up then and straightened out our clothes. Then he pulled me close to him by the waist and kissed me. It was a deep kiss that went beyond passionate, the kind where he was conveying every feeling he had for me in a kiss. It was the type of kiss that rolled up I love you, I want you, I need you, you're beautiful, and you're sexy all into one physical act. As his lips left mine, I couldn't help but smile. He looked down at me with a sparkle in his eyes that told me how happy he was without words.

"I love you, babe."

"I love you too, baby."

"As much as I would like to keep you here for a repeat performance, I do have to actually finish up for the day, my love."

"Alright, baby. I hope you enjoyed your lunch..."

"Very much so. I hope there is more at home. I do believe I want some more of that, please."

"Well, luckily for you, I make sure to keep that snack readily available."

"Mmmm, I like the sound of that, babe. I'll walk you to your car."

With that, he took me by the hand, and we walked out to my car. It wasn't rushed; we took our time. I tried, but no matter what, I could not stop smiling. The sex today was a bonus that was absolutely amazing, of course, but what was making me so happy was the fact that years later, I still enjoyed just being with this man in every way, even if it was just walking down the hallway.

When we got to my car, we saw Imani leaning against her Mustang with a handsome man, perhaps a little older than we were. The salt and pepper in his beard stood out against his warm brown skin. She seemed to kiss him goodbye as he left right as we were walking up. After he drove away, Imani turned to us and said, "You know, if you guys are going to do stuff like that in school, you should really make sure you don't get lipstick on your collar, Robbie."

My face instantly went red as both of our heads snapped toward his collar, where we saw nothing. We looked back at Imani, who was laughing and pointing at us as she said, "Ahhhhhh! Busted! I'm just messing with you guys!"

My anger whipped up inside me for a fraction of a second before I started laughing. This girl was funny. I liked her!

Imani and I ended up getting along very well after that. Maybe it was because anyone willing to embarrass Robbie that thoroughly within the first week of knowing him was already starting from a favorable position with me. Whatever the reason, I was glad he had found someone at Stonebridge he seemed to click with. Starting over was exciting, but I knew Robbie well enough to know that there was a difference between being comfortable somewhere and actually feeling like he belonged.

By the time students arrived the following Monday, I could tell he was beginning to feel like he belonged. The first few weeks of the school year passed faster than I expected.

Robbie settled into teaching at Stonebridge almost immediately. There were adjustments, obviously. New students, new coworkers, different expectations, and an AP class that required more preparation than he was used to. He would occasionally disappear into his office at home for a couple hours with a stack of essays and emerge looking like he'd personally developed a grudge against the English language, but he was happy. That was what mattered to me.

He came home with stories about his students. Funny things they said, arguments that broke out during discussions, essays that impressed him and others that made him question whether some of them had actually read the book. I could always tell which students he liked, even when he insisted teachers weren't supposed to have favorites.

He absolutely had favorites. I never called him on it. Well, not too often.

Ricky settled in too. Robbie finally told me about Ricky's job after Saul eventually finished whatever financial and legal wizardry he needed to perform, and Ricky officially became Stockton Holdings' local property manager. Robbie had been almost obnoxiously proud when everything became official, even though he kept insisting that Ricky hadn't gotten the job because of him.

Technically, he was right.

Saul had actually interviewed Ricky and gone through his military experience before agreeing that he was qualified for the position. There were things Ricky could handle himself and things Stockton Holdings still needed licensed contractors for, but apparently Robbie had been right about how useful his brother's experience would be.

I tried not to point out how pleased Robbie was about being right. He was insufferable enough already.

Ricky moved into the apartment in Crestwick and immediately started renovating it, which I thought was probably the most Ricky thing he could have done. Apparently, living in an outdated apartment for even a few weeks was unacceptable when he knew perfectly well how to fix it himself. Robbie offered to pay for everything. Ricky told him to fuck off. Saul eventually informed both of them that Stockton Holdings was already planning to renovate the vacant unit anyway, so the company would pay for the approved materials and Ricky could stop arguing with his brother about it.

I was beginning to understand why Robbie liked Saul so much.

More importantly, Ricky seemed happy. Or at least happier. There were still things he wasn't talking about. I could see that. Sometimes a noise caught him off guard. Sometimes he went quiet for no apparent reason. Every once in a while, Robbie would look at him with that concerned older-brother expression, and I could practically see the questions piling up behind his eyes.

To his credit, he didn't ask them.

That might have been the most impressive growth I'd seen from my fiancé yet.

Instead, Ricky became part of our routine. He came over for dinner a couple nights a week. Sometimes he came over just to watch a game with Robbie. Sometimes Cassie invited him over because she needed help with something in the pool house, although I suspected she'd learned very quickly that asking Ricky was considerably easier than asking Robbie because Ricky would fix the problem without somehow turning it into a twelve-thousand-dollar renovation project.

Lady absolutely adored him. Within a month, hearing Ricky walk into the house was enough to send her running for the front door. There was something strangely wonderful about watching the Stockton brothers together.

They argued constantly. Not seriously. Just about everything. Sports. Cars. Food. Movies. Who remembered something correctly from when they were kids. Which one of them had been responsible for whatever stupid thing they'd done fifteen years ago. Sometimes they would tell the same story completely differently and then spend twenty minutes arguing over which version was true. Usually, I suspected neither was.

Underneath all of it was something I hadn't fully understood when we were younger. They loved each other deeply. They'd survived the same childhood in different ways, and somewhere along the way, they'd become more than brothers. They were proof to one another that they'd made it out. I think having Ricky nearby healed something in Robbie that he hadn't realized was still hurting.

Our lives weren't entirely about the Stockton brothers, though. Cassie and I had a business to open. The Bowery consumed an increasingly ridiculous amount of our time as summer became fall. Renovations moved forward, deliveries started arriving, and rooms that had existed mostly in our imaginations slowly began looking like the bookstore we'd spent months talking about. It was terrifying. It was also ours.

There was something incredibly satisfying about standing in the middle of that building with Cassie and realizing that neither of us was just helping somebody else achieve their dream anymore. This one belonged to us. Robbie helped when we asked. The important part of that sentence was when we asked. He was learning. Mostly.

Then there was the wedding.

Holy shit, weddings required a lot of decisions. I'd always known that, obviously, but knowing weddings were complicated and actually planning one were completely different things. Every time I thought we'd answered the big questions, our wedding planner seemed to materialize another list.

Flowers.

Linens.

Centerpieces.

Invitations.

Music.

Photography.

Dinner.

Dessert.

Transportation.

Seating arrangements.

Whether we wanted assigned tables or assigned seats. Apparently, those were different decisions. I learned more about chairs than any human being should ever need to know.

Robbie's approach to wedding planning was exactly what anyone who knew him would expect. If I asked whether he preferred ivory or white tablecloths, he looked at me like I'd asked him to explain quantum physics. If I asked about food, music, alcohol, or anything else he actually cared about, suddenly he had opinions.

Lots of opinions.

I didn't mind.

I didn't want one of those weddings where the groom simply showed up wearing whatever suit someone handed him. I wanted it to feel like our wedding, and despite his occasional inability to understand why two nearly identical shades of green were apparently not identical, Robbie genuinely wanted that too.

There were certain decisions that mattered more than others. The wedding party was one of them. Cassie had been my maid of honor from the beginning. There was never really a question about that. She was my best friend. We'd been through too much together for anyone else to stand beside me in that position.

Robbie's side was a little more complicated. Naturally, one of the first people he asked was Ricky. Ricky agreed immediately to be in the wedding, but when Robbie brought up him being best man, Ricky refused. Not because he didn't want to stand beside his brother. Actually, it was the exact opposite. He told Robbie he absolutely wanted to stand up there with him, but he didn't want Robbie choosing him as best man simply because they shared DNA. In Ricky's opinion, being Robbie's brother already gave him a place in Robbie's life that nobody else could have. Best man should go to the person Robbie would have chosen if Ricky wasn't his brother.

Robbie tried arguing. Ricky told him to shut the fuck up and think about it.

That apparently worked.

A few days later, Robbie told me he'd made his decision.

Rosa.

I thought it was perfect. Technically, I supposed that made her his best person rather than his best man. We went back and forth about what to call the role before Rosa eventually said she didn't particularly give a shit what the program called her as long as nobody expected her to wear a tuxedo.

Whatever the title was, she would be standing beside him. And honestly, there wasn't anyone else who made more sense.

Rosa had become one of Robbie's closest friends during one of the most transformative periods of his life. She had been there through student teaching for Robbie, been there for him as he built his life post-wrestling, after his accident, his recovery, and everything that followed. She hadn't seen him when he was Robbie Stockton the wrestler. She was there when he was forced to figure out who Robbie Stockton was without wrestling.

She was his friend independent of me. That mattered. I loved Rosa. Cassie loved Rosa. But her relationship with Robbie belonged to the two of them, and I liked that he had someone like that in his life.

When Robbie asked her, she accepted.

By October, the wedding had stopped feeling like some distant thing we talked about and started feeling real. There were contracts. Deposits. Appointments. Guest lists. Actual dates written on actual calendars.

Every so often, I'd catch myself staring at my engagement ring while somebody discussed catering or flowers and have the same thought.

I'm marrying Robbie.

After everything that had happened, I was actually going to marry the boy I'd loved before either of us really understood what love was.

Except he wasn't that boy anymore.

And I wasn't that girl.

I think that was my favorite part. We weren't getting married because we'd managed to preserve some perfect teenage romance for all those years apart. We hadn't. We had both lived entire lives without each other. We'd loved other people. Made mistakes. Gotten hurt. Changed. Grown up.

Then somehow, we'd found each other again in my grandparents' bookstore and discovered that the people we'd become fit together even better than the kids we'd been.

That was the man I was marrying.

Fall settled over Pennsylvania gradually. The mornings got colder. The trees around the house changed from green into brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows before eventually beginning to empty themselves across our yard. Robbie complained about how many leaves we had until Ricky pointed out that he'd bought a giant house surrounded by trees and therefore had forfeited his right to bitch about leaves.

Robbie told him to fuck off, their ongoing retort to one another...

Then bought a riding lawn mower with a leaf collection system.

Because of course he did.

Halloween came and went. The Bowery got closer to opening. Wedding plans continued taking shape. Ricky became comfortable enough in Pennsylvania that he stopped talking about whether he was staying and started talking about things months into the future without realizing he'd done it.

And Robbie kept teaching.

For a while, that seemed like enough for him.

Then November arrived.

I started noticing the change before he said anything. He stayed at school a little later. He started checking the athletics calendar more often. One night, I caught him watching college wrestling highlights on his phone in bed. Another time, I walked into his office and found an old notebook open on his desk filled with his wrestling drills and practice notes from years ago.

He hadn't committed to coaching when Henry and Alex first asked him. They hadn't pressured him either. They'd simply left the door open.

As the season got closer, Robbie kept wandering toward it.

I didn't say anything. I knew better.

Wrestling had once been everything to him. Then, for a long time, it had been something he couldn't even look at without remembering everything he'd lost.

Now, for the first time, it seemed like maybe it could become something else.

Not his identity.

Not his future.

Not the thing that determined whether his life had value.

Just something he loved.

And sometime near the beginning of November, with wrestling season only days away, Robbie finally stopped pretending he hadn't already made his decision.

He was going back to the mat.

Just not in the way either of us had once imagined.