Chapter 16

Fuck me… did I miss this. What a ridiculous thing to miss… the sound of one of my brothers in my head when I shifted. But three years of silent runs had fostered quite a need for that connection again.

‘Are you done being sentimental?’Sam demanded, his laughter echoing in my mind.

‘You heard that?’ I asked. Fuck. I forgot about the need to tailor my thoughts. Sam didn’t need my stupid thoughts.

‘Still hear you,’he said.

‘Shut up,’I replied. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘Too long.’

“All right, listen up you furry-assed fuckers.” Cole was last to shift, which made sense, considering he made the rules. We stood in pairs: me with Sam, Cade with Isla, and Maverick with Axel. Danica stuck close to her brother in wolf form, complete with cornstalk blonde fur—how had I not known she was blonde?

‘It’s the blue,’Sam told me. ‘It throws you off.’

‘Fuck,’ I muttered. Behind us, Lucas and Finn broke out laughing—definitely at my dumbass. In wolf form, my brothers and I could communicate with one another. It was a Byrne thing. None of the other wolves could hear us. While they were still in their human form, my brothers could hear us talk. ‘Sorry, I’ll get used to this shit again.’

‘Don’t on our account. We’ll start using it against you at some point.’

‘Asshole.’

“Now, I got three of my guys out in the desert with your fuckin’ flags. They got water, they got beer, hopefully, they got fuckin’ snacks if Ted ain’t ate it all already.” Cole shook his head. “And they got all fuckin’ night for you fuckin’ losers to pretend like you can beat us.”

‘Cocky little fucker, isn’t he?’Sam chuffed.

“Don’t be sassy, Byrne,” he chided. Waltzing past each of us, he dropped three strips of fabric at our paws. “Get a good whiff of that, boys.”

Isla growled, baring her fangs to show her offense.

“And ladies,” Cole corrected. “And ladies. I ain’t used to havin’ anyone but one of my sisters out here.”

“And we ain’t ladies?” Alice demanded. The collective sentiment of Cole having stepped in his shit was amusing. “Dare you to come over here and tell that to my pretty fuckin’ face, Cole. I’ll show you just how ladylike I can be.”

“I’ll kick your ass, hot shot,” he snapped. “God fuckin’ dammit. I’m goin’ to disqualify all you fuckers if we don’t get fuckin’ started. Each of my guys has a fuckin’ flag for you furry shits. Get all three and get your tails back here. Same shit, different year. My rescue team is on standby for when one of you fuckers gets lost. Lookin’ at you, Byrnes.”

I turned to see Lucas shrug. Clearly, there was a story in there.

‘Two years ago, Lucas did this run with me,’Sam explained. ‘Only his dumbass slipped down a fucking canyon crack. He was dead set he could get out on his own.’

‘Only to end up lost?’I guessed.

‘The Fall Games turned into a two-day search for him,’he said.

Jesus fuck, Lucas.

“Let the Fall Games begin!” Cole shouted seconds before he shifted. He was off like lightning. Why wouldn’t he? We were in his terrain.

My nose hit the ground, and so did Sam’s. One sniff… two… and then three for good measure. God, these fuckers needed a good fucking shower and deodorant.

At least they’d be easy to find.

Sam and I took off at breakneck speed.

Three flags.

Two of us.

One desert.

We had this.

We won by the fucking fur on Sam’s neck. Snout to be more accurate. It’d been so fucking close the whole way, and he managed to pull ahead—much to Cole’s dismay. For the first time, the fucking Byrnes lead the Fall Games right out of the gate.

“To the Byrnes!” Lucas shouted over the bar noise as he raised his glass. We sat with the Stones and the Ironwoods in the bar attached to the clubhouse. It was busy, most were fucking drunk, and the energy was goddamn addictive—even with Cole’s sour mood.

“To me!” Sam corrected. That look of fucking pride on his face. It made me laugh. He fucking earned it.

“Laugh it up, furball,” Cole growled.

“He’s just mad he couldn’t win,” Finn goaded.

“I’m comin’ for the lot of you.”

“Raise your fucking glass, Stone,” Sam ordered, pointing down the table. “Stones! Ironwoods! All you fuckers down there! Raise your goddamn glasses to me!”

“It’s like he forgot you were out there too,” Declan murmured from his spot next to me. Raven nodded rapidly in agreement from her spot perched on his lap.

“He’s just drunk,” I commented under my breath. I raised my glass of water because fuck it. We did good.

“Live it up, you furry fucks,” Roan practically shouted. “The next one we’re winning.”

“You never win the karaoke contest,” Cole scoffed.

“Or the run,” Finn chimed in. “You guys suck.”

“Bring your whisk-wielding ass over here, Byrne!” Axel growled, slamming his hand to the table. “You and me! I could take you.”

“With a whisk?” He laughed. “Please.”

“Are they going to battle with whisks?” Raven whispered—or attempted to. She wasn’t quiet despite her efforts. She gasped, her hand flying over her chest. Jesus fuck, this woman was dramatic. “It’s like a sword battle!”

Declan shushed her and pulled her closer, kissing her shoulder.

“Don’t give them ideas,” he told her. “They’ll fucking do it.”

“Remember the lawn darts?” I asked.

“God.” Declan put his head between her shoulder blades, laughing hard. “Remember how Mom thought we’d killed Maverick?”

“Oh God!” Sam exclaimed. “I thought Mom was going to fucking kill me.”

“I still have the scar to fucking prove you assholes don’t need sharp objects!” Maverick yelled from the other end of the table.

“I didn’t stab you that hard!” he shot back.

“You still fucking stabbed me!”

“Were you sixteen then too?” Raven asked, glancing over her shoulder at Declan. I busted out laughing. The woman held no punches.

“Woman!” Cade chastised from across the table. “You can’t say shit like that!”

“I can say whatever I want! I want to know!”

“Sam was eleven—”

“And a fucking moron!” Maverick interrupted Nolan’s attempt to explain the situation.

“He doesn’t hold a fucking grudge at all,” Sam said, and I shrugged. I’d been stabbed a handful of times—more than I wanted to admit. Yeah, I held a fucking grudge. Hard to blame Maverick for that one, even if we were just kids.

To defend himself, Sam ended up on a chair to dramatically regale everyone with the story of how he’d stabbed Maverick. With a lawn dart. When he was eleven. Sure, we Byrnes were wild as fuck as kids, but the Ironwoods? They were the fucking instigators. Together, we were fire and gasoline—especially when we were young. We’d spent practically every summer together.

And you bet your ass, every fucking summer, an Ironwood started some shit that we Byrnes took to the next level. It really was a miracle we all survived to adulthood, considering Maverick being stabbed was a milder event in our childhood. Fuck. How had we survived?

I lost my train of thought when I caught sight of Genevieve sneaking her way into the far side of the room. Scooting my chair back slightly, I watched her make a beeline straight for the bar. She dressed for comfort in an oversized sweatshirt, shorts, and sandals. Those itty bitty cutoff shorts. I fucking loved seeing her wear them—and not just because her legs looked fucking incredible in them. I remembered a time when getting Genevieve to wear pants was traumatic. She’d been raised that skirts were a proper woman’s attire. Anything else was shameful. The idea of pants had made her sob for days. I scrubbed a hand over my face, sighing. That poor woman. I was proud as fuck to see her still making progress. Three years ago, she never would’ve put shorts on. Fuck, getting her in a goddamn scoop-neck t-shirt had been an easier feat despite the way the importance of high-necked shirts had been impressed on her.

For all our fucking bullshit and chaos, my wife was still the strongest fucking woman I knew.

I tuned out the others while I watched Genevieve squeeze her way between two bikers and do her best to get the bartender’s attention. A dark growl built in my throat as one of them swooped in to help her. His hand was too fucking low on her back, and I didn’t like how he leaned in too goddamn close to talk to her. I didn’t give a fuck how loud the room was. He didn’t need to be that fucking close. She didn’t need anyone’s fucking help. There was no way to overlook Genevieve—no matter how busy the room was.

Drink in hand, Genevieve weaseled her way between people until she found a small spot on her own. Her gaze caught mine across the room but only for a second before it snapped back down to her drink.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed. I didn’t miss the way Raven went rigid from her spot.

“You know,” she began loudly and swiveled to stare at my brothers. The absolute glare in that woman’s eyes. It rivaled Mom’s. Fuck, I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that. Glad it was them she was glaring at and not me. “I’ve decided you’re all assholes. You, in particular, Nolan.”

“Raven,” Declan cut in quickly.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she dismissed him with a wave of her beer. “You’re an asshole too.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I don’t want to,” Raven snapped. Hot damn.

“Why am I being singled out?” Nolan asked.

“No, no. You’re all assholes. It’s a collective Byrne title tonight.” The table grew uncomfortably silent as she continued. “You all knew he’d be here—”

“Stay out of it, honey,” Declan interjected.

“I will not!” she exclaimed. “How is any of this fair to her? Nolan brought her here because why? You were lonely driving? Drive with your brothers. You have an obscene amount of them. No, instead, you drive to the middle of fucking Colorado with Ginny, and now she’s standing in a corner over there instead of spending any time with you. And why? Because you’re the mean girls now?”

“Amen,” Cade muttered into his beer.

“This table is for pack leaders, right? For Byrnes and Ironwoods and Stones?” she demanded, waving her hand to the entirety of the table. I glanced around, watching their uncomfortable expressions as no one said a word. Not that I blamed them. How many years had I sat at this exact table with Genevieve? Raven pointed her beer at Cade. “Well, you know what? I’m not a fucking Byrne, and you’re not a pack leader yet.”

“Nope,” he agreed and got to his feet.

“Take care of her, please,” Declan called after them as Raven stormed away with Cade.

“Always do!” Cade replied.

“Well, that was fuckin’ awkward,” Alice said. “More beers?”

The over-enthusiastic response wasn’t lost on me. No one wanted to touch the topic with a ten-foot pole. We’d been dancing around it ever since I’d let Cole know I planned to attend. Beer was a good way to pretend the problem didn’t exist. At least for them.

“Am I really an asshole?” Nolan asked softly.

“No, kid.” I sighed. “This is my mess.”

“No, we’re all fucking assholes,” Declan stated. He pulled off his hat and fussed with its frayed bill. “We all knew that coming into this. We have to deal with it.”

He could say the words all he wanted, but his body language indicated otherwise. He stared after his fiancé, where she pulled Genevieve out onto the dance floor with Cade. Every move Raven made, he tracked it. I realized he was done having fun for the night. He’d spend the rest of the night watching over her from a distance—wanting to be with her—but stuck here with us.

Goddammit. I hated this divided shit.

“Fuck,” I grumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you owe an apology to,” he replied. Yeah, I fucking knew that. The problem was that I didn’t know where to begin apologizing.