Page 79 of What Remains

“Not bad. Nothing a few ibuprofen can’t fix.” I lift my hand, anticipating some warning or protest about . . . well, my back. “And don’t worry. I’m not taking off my shirt. I wouldn’t want to scare the kids.”

“Oh, um, that wasn’t on my mind at all.” She gives me her signature puppy dog eyes—ones her teenage son inherited and loves to weaponize when he wants something from any of us.

“Well, it’s on my mind. Don’t need to scare the kids with the whip marks there.” I immediately regret saying that when her frown deepens. “Anyway.” I tip my head toward the pool where her son is throwing a football with his dad. “How’s Colin doing with all this?”

I pick up the bourbon I already poured and stretch out, doing my best to get comfortable. To act like a man at a resort with family and friends, not an operator who killed several people the other day.

“He misses his girlfriend, but he’s fine.” She touches her temple where that son of a bitch hit her. “He’s like his father, though, and wants revenge. I’m going to have my hands full with him.”

“You already have your hands full,” I joke while the music turns on.

Jesse’s the one who synced his phone to the surround sound, which means we’re in store for country music. He sneaks up on Ella while she’s chatting with Mya and grabs her by the waist. She squeals and he lifts her in one fast movement, then shifts sideways so they both hit the pool in a huge splash. He seems better after our talk earlier. More relaxed, so that’s something.

Actually, everyone around me seems to have mastered the whole relaxing thing. Everyone except me. Even Carter is off in the hot tub with his wife while Oliver plays with their son in the water.

“You should swim, too,” I encourage my sister. “Finish that vacation of yours that got cut short. I can keep an eye on Illiana,” I offer.

“Maybe later.” She waves at Constantine, who’s staring back at her all dopey-eyed and in love. So much so, he gets whacked in the side of the head with the football by his son. He narrows his eyes, then dives under the water and goes after him.

“Those two.” Juliette lazily turns her head to peer at me again. “You suuuure you’re doing okay? And I don’t mean your back.”

“I’m sure I’m going to be.” I wink, then take a healthy swig of my drink. I’ll have to switch to water after this one. We may be off the clock for the rest of the day, but I don’t trust myself to loosen up too much. I might open my mouth to more than just my sister and be a little too honest with my thoughts.

“Can I help get you closer to a state of being instead of a state of going to be?”

I lift my brows. That was a mouthful. Does she even know what she said?

“We should talk about what happened, no?”

“No is right.” I give her the best brotherly shit-eating grin I can manage before facing forward, eyeing the busy pool.

The music changes to “Sweet Home Alabama,” and some of the guys begin belting out the lyrics as if they don’t have a care in the world. Then again, we’re all so used to this kind of constantly-in-danger lifestyle, it’d be more concerning if they weren’t acting like this.

“Please talk to me.” I barely hear her plea over the bad singing. “Easton.”

I set my glass down on the side table and turn her way. “Yeah?”

“I won’t bug you,” she begins, preparing to do exactly that, “but just know if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you. You know, about anything.” She nervously works her lip between her teeth. “Spiritual stuff, too.”

“I’m all good in that department, don’t worry.” I’ll say whatever I need to, so she stops stressing out. “I know where I’m going.”

“And where is that?”

“Hopefully the same place as you,” I joke.

I’d be lying if I said I actually believe that. But whatever helps my sister sleep at night.

“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs under her breath. Thankfully my niece saves me from further interrogation by alerting everyone within hearing radius that she is done with her stroller.

While Juliette picks up Illiana, I lock my hands on top of my chest and stare at the ceiling, wishing it was the sun overhead instead. Maybe if I fake being relaxed for long enough, I’ll actually feel that way at some point.

Yeah, right.

That’s just as doubtful as Wyatt being chill when he gets down here, which reminds me. . .

I shut my eyes and replay the strange conversation we had upstairs in the hall.

Once outside my suite, the door firmly closed behind us, Wyatt had set his hands on the wall and bowed his head. “I can’t look at those cocksuckers’ faces on that screen and not want to pick up the laptop and throw it against the wall.”