Chapter 23

Madden

I've barely stepped out of Penn's apartment when the group chat starts going off.

Taco hunt, now!

Let's gooooo!

We've got it this time.

Team Bertha rides at whatever time this is past dawn!

I smother my laugh and will the elevator to move faster. The Tac'obout Tacos truck we love does this once a month usually, and it's a rare day that we're all around to drop what we're doing and go for it. Today looks like one of those days, and it's the perfect boost I need after a perfect morning with Penn.

I'm still struggling to believe last night happened, and even if we don't find this damn taco truck first, I'll probably buy everyone's order anyway, I'm in such a good mood. I mean, fuck. I had Penn's cock in my mouth last night, and this time, it wasn't a dream.

The elevator doors slide open, and I jog for my car in the parking lot. It's still early, but it's already looking to be a great day. The sky is crystal blue, the clouds are wispy and hugging the horizon, and when my truck engine roars to life and I remember that I don't have a job on today, my brain just keeps getting smilier.

I text the others that I'm on the hunt, then head out of the parking lot. Seven was halfway to work when the taco truck's "come find me" post went up, Rush, Molly, and Xander are all leaving the house, and Christian and émile are on their way from Maple Park.

The whole fucking gang. Incredible.

I steer clear of looking anywhere near where the taco truck has been before, and as I drive around, I keep one eye on my phone. It doesn't usually go into downtown Seattle, so I keep my search around GPD, but after an hour, I have a good feeling we've missed the chance to find it.

Sure enough, the location pops up on the original post, but I can't even let free tacos being snatched from me bring down my mood.

I head for the address, a block over from Gas Works Park, and pull up to wait for the others. It doesn't take long for them to get there, and their expressions range from oh well next time to I'm going to fucking stab someone for a free taco.

Xander's wearing the latter, and I sling my arm around his shoulders.

"Taco breakfast is on me."

"Really?"

"Yup." I might not be able to tell them about Penn, but I can blame my good mood on Damien and the immediate pay jump in my future.

"I knew you loved us. "

That makes me laugh. "I shouldn't have to buy you tacos to make sure you know I love you."

"Of course you should. Tacos are the single greatest food in the world. There are memes dedicated to them. It's indisputable."

"There're also memes dedicated to pineapple on pizza, and I assure you that's heavily disputed."

Xander wrinkles his little, freckled nose. "It's an abomination, that's why. It shouldn't be disputed. It should be in the gutter."

"I don't know," émile says. "It adds a little extra flavor. That boost of something sweet."

"Pizza should not be sweet." Christian's mouth turns down. "Who have I married?"

"Oh no, is this the start of our divorce era? You better prepare yourself because Elle won't like that at all."

Christian glares at him. "Or you. You wouldn't like that either, right?"

émile shrugs. "It's suddenly apparent you have no taste, so would I be missing out on all that much?"

Christian huffs, and émile slips his arm around my friend's waist, almost sending them both toppling over.

"Oh, come on, love. We both know my love is eternal."

"That's better."

"And that you don't have money for a divorce lawyer. So I'm stuck with you."

Christian goes to whack émile's stomach but slips on the grass instead.

Normally something like that would make Xander laugh, but he's quiet under my arm.

"You okay, Z?"

"They're really in love, aren't they?"

It's a weird thing to say. "They're married, so I hope so. "

He takes a moment, like he's chewing on his tongue. "I've been waiting for them to move out."

That familiar panic hits me. "Move out? Why do you think they're going to do that?"

"Because they're a married couple, émile's rich and Christian's career is going well, and they're still living with five roommates."

All the exact thoughts I've had going through my mind.

"Gabe left us," Xander whispers. "It's only a matter of time before the rest of you do as well."

"Hey. I'm not going anywhere." But even as I say that, a little voice erodes my brain. Getting into a relationship usually means the natural progression is to move in with them at some point. My roommates are ahead of me when it comes to relationships, but I'm ahead of all of them when it comes to the guy I'm … seeing? I hope I'm seeing.

At some point, we'll cross from kinda boyfriends to more, and when it happens, will Penn want me to move in with him? Given he scrapes together all the money he earns to own his apartment, there's no way he'd choose to move into Bertha with me instead.

My mouth has gone dry by the time we reach the taco truck, and my roommates and I put in our orders. I pay for everyone, darkly musing money might not matter if I'm saving a shitload on rent soon, and then we all claim a picnic table set up in the park.

To make sure I don't have to continue my downer conversation with Xander, I turn to Seven instead. "Busy day today?"

"Nah, I only have two bookings," he says around the bite of food he's taken. "Should be some walk-ins later tonight, but hopefully, the afternoon is cruisey."

"Maybe I could come in," Xander pipes up.

Seven takes a moment to answer. "For what? "

"I want you to tattoo around my eyes. So it looks like I have liner on all the time."

Molly's face falls. "That's permanent, sweetie."

"Good. That's what I want. Last week when I had an episode, I didn't have time to do any of my makeup, and I … I …" He screws his whole face up. "I looked ugly."

"No you didn't," Molly snaps.

He's probably the only one who can talk to Xander that way.

"You weren't there," Xander throws back. "And I'm a grown man, and as a grown man, I want my eyes tattooed, okay? Maybe you could do my lips too. Something deep pink."

Even though Seven doesn't answer right away, we all know it's going to be a yes. With Z, it's always a yes. Seven's the one who tattooed Xander's freckles a few years ago, and I know he regrets it because he worries that he's confirming Xander's fears about himself. We all do, but Xander can be really fucking temperamental at times, and saying no makes it hard on all of us. It hurts how fragile he is, and none of it is his fault, but it's obvious he needs therapy.

Unfortunately, the thing about therapists is that they don't always tell you what you want to hear, and Xander doesn't do well with that.

"Have you sold anything recently?" I ask Xander, trying to distract him, but he's got that determined flair in his eyes, challenging Seven to tell him no.

"I did. A bust. The client paid a lot for it, and it was an ugly piece of crap that I wanted gone. So I have spare money, and I want some tattoos. Today. Maybe you can even do eyelashes as well."

Seven's teeth burrow into his lip.

"Unless you don't want to," Xander pushes. "That's okay too. There are plenty of tattoo artists in Seattle who'll take my money. "

Then Seven says something that shocks everyone into silence.

"Maybe you should go to one of them, then."

Xander's eyes narrow. "Maybe I will."

"Good." Seven turns back to his taco, and the second he's not looking at Xander, Xander turns to Molly with wet eyes.

"Sorry, baby. I'm with Seven on this one."

"You're both going to gang up on me?"

"No one's ganging up on you," Seven says. "I don't want to mark up your pretty face when we both know full well that you don't actually want to do that."

"Don't tell me what I want to do."

"Then stop pushing me."

My eyes are wide, staring at the grass and hoping if I stay really fucking still, no one will notice me. This is … I've heard them bicker before, a lot , but Seven's actually upset with him, and it must take Xander by surprise as well because he also adopts the if I freeze, he can't see me pose.

I glance up to find he has tears running over his cheeks.

I wait for Seven to give in.

He doesn't.

Molly's gaze is pinging worryingly between them, and Jesus fucking shit, when did the morning take such a fast turn? Maybe I shouldn't have ignored Xander when he brought up Gabe. Maybe I should have given him someone to talk to instead of leaving him to lash out like that.

All I know is that whatever this is, it isn't right.

We're brothers. We get along. Always.

One of the things I love the most about my roommates is that we all get each other. We're all here for one another through all our weirdness, through all our struggles. Rush has issues sleeping? I get up with him. Christian is borderline breakdown? We smother him with physical touch or wrap him up in a blanket burrito. Molly's being neurotic or overly emotional, we talk through it with him and reassure him. Xander's anxiety flares up, we do whatever we can to help calm him.

Seven, most of all.

I've never, ever seen him make Xander cry and not immediately fall over himself trying to fix it.

Xander folds up his taco and pushes it to the middle of the table. "Not hungry," he whispers, then gets up and goes back to the car.

The rest of us turn to Seven.

"What?" he grunts, trying to focus on his food.

"Are you going to tell us what that was?" Molly chokes out.

"I'm sick of it," Seven hisses, worry heavy on his brow. "I'm sick of him thinking he's not good enough. That he needs to be perfect, always. He doesn't. None of us are."

"Maybe you should have told him that," I say.

"I have." Seven balls up his leftovers and tosses them into the middle of the table too. "He doesn't listen."

"Yes, but you've started therapy," Christian points out. "He hasn't. You can't expect him to change his whole mental state because you told him he needs to one time."

"Yeah, I hate to say it"—and I really, really hate to say it and draw his attention—"but you know Z. If he wants to get the tattoos, he will. Fight or no fight. And we all know you don't trust anyone to do his tattoos but you."

All the tension leaves Seven's broad shoulders. "Right."

"Besides." émile is the only one at the table who isn't troubled. "Who are you to tell someone what they can and can't do with their face? You're well within your rights to refuse to do it, but you also can't tell him that he can't."

My gaze immediately goes to the tattoos that run from Seven's neck and up over his head.

He grunts. "I hate you all. For the record."

"Good to see therapy is working," I throw back .

But while Molly gets him to agree to apologize, and Seven admits he'll do the tattoos, the whole thing has left a bad taste in my mouth.

Things are changing. And where I thought Bertha and my roommates would always be my safe space, it's becoming more and more obvious that it can only last so long. The years with them have been a gift, but what if it's all coming to an end?

"I wonder where Rush ended up," émile comments lightly.

My heart sinks.

I didn't even notice he was missing.