“Why do you call me Fish?” I ask, tracing it.

“People say there’s plenty of fish in the sea. I say, fuck you, she was my sea.”

My breath catches and I glance up at hm. Let my lips curve into a tiny smile. “Doesn’t take mean I’m Sea?”

He shifts, covering me and sliding into me in one move that makes my laugh catch in my throat. Turn into a broken groan.

“Fish sounds better,” he whispers, watching me.

I whimper, and he smiles, a smile so fucking beautiful and sad it makes me want to cry. Moves in me, slow and sweet, his lips on my neck and shoulders and lips, whispering sweet, dirty words of love while he makes love to me, until I gasp, my body arching against him as I come apart.

When he comes, a few seconds later, he whispers, so softly, “I love you, Fish.”

Chapter 23 : Before

The girls are out. Peyton wanted tequila, and after the few hours we spent with her parents, I don’t blame her much. I want some painkillers and my bed.

“Was it bad?”

“I won’t make her visit her parents again; let’s put it that way,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my face.

Scotty’s quiet for a long minute, and I frown, glancing up at him. “Ever wonder if we were lucky? Our parents were awful, but at least we didn’t get stuck with them. We got free.”

“Being put in the system isn’t free, Scott. It’s just in a fucking broken system.”

He nods. “Yeah. I know. But we’re out now. And at least in the system we found some family. Maybe not the one we were born with, but family that you choose is just as important. Maybe more, in a way.”

I stare at him. “Where the actual fuck is this coming from?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. I guess now that we have the girls—we’re our own family. We created something for ourselves that we never had. What would we do if we lost that? If the girls walked away or decided that we aren’t good enough as we are?”

I think about Peyton, and her fierce anger with her father, the way she defended me and refused to let him and Mary Anne tear me apart. I think of Lindsay and her good-natured teasing, the way she fights with Scott while pulling him closer. I think of how they both vanished, giving me and him the time to process shit, and how she put together that fucking perfect room, the way they’ve slipped so effortlessly into our lives, and made it their own.

How Linds will work to get us gigs. How Peyton is so quick to encourage me and Scott to try new things, shit that will make us better. Happier.

“They wouldn’t do that,” I say hoarsely. Because now I’m thinking about it, and the idea of losing them, even for a little while, is fucking terrifying.

Lindsay isn’t mine. She won’t ever be, and I don’t want her. But the four of us—we’re a fucking family. And I hate even the thought of losing that. I glance at my best friend, the brother I never had. “They wouldn’t.”

“No, brother,” he says gently. “They wouldn’t.”

I stand abruptly and go into my room, grabbing the sketch I did this morning. I extend it to him silently, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he says, his gaze flicking up to me.

“I want it to be the anchor piece for my right sleeve.”

A smile turns his lips, and he nods. “I like it, dude. It’s appropriate and she’d love it. Not that you’re going to tell her.”

I grin, “Not ‘til it’s done anyway.”

“Secretive bastard,” he accuses, and I nod.

There’s a knock on the door, and he arches an eyebrow at me silently. We haven’t been here long enough that anyone knows where we’re at. Staci does, and so does Barrie, but only because that’s work. “Did the girls forget their keys?” I ask, walking to the door.

“No. Linds wanted to stop and get hers bedazzled or some shit,” he snorts.

I laugh and open the door.

Brody is standing there, his eyes darting around as he hunches forward, his hands tucked into his pockets. He’s looking around like he thinks he might be shanked for being here and I have to swallow my laugh. Because I like her brother, and he doesn’t know that this is actually a really good neighborhood, as our price range goes.

Poor kid would have a heart attack if he knew where his sister had been slumming before we moved here.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, staring at him.

“Uh, hello, future brother-in-law, yes I would love to come in.” From the couch, Scott snorts a laugh, and puts aside his guitar to stand and come to the door.

"Who are you?" he asks without preamble.

"Brody. And you’re Scott. Where is Peyton?"

"She went to get alcohol."

Brody laughs. "Dad has that effect on folks, and especially on her."

I nod, and Scott heaves a sigh, grabbing my arm and pulling me aside while Brody steps into the apartment and closes the door behind him.

"What are you doing here, man?" Scott asks.

"You love my sister," he says, looking at me.

I nod, and he grins. "Good. You’re good for her. Peyton is different from the rest of us. She's creative and spontaneous and wild. I thought for a long time that she killed that when she played the good little political daughter, but she didn't. And then--she told you about the eating disorder? About rehab?"

I nod and my gut clenches. Because I'll run to the farthest ends of the earth to keep her away from these people. To make sure that she never becomes the shell of the girl she was then.

"It changed her, man. Fucked her up for a long time. She had a hard time letting people in after that. And she quit playing the part, got deeper into her own head and creativity—but I haven't seen the girl I grew up with in years, not the way I saw her tonight. I want you to know that." He shifts and grins. "I saw my sister again, man. And you made that happen. You are bringing her out of her shell. So I don't really give a fuck who you are or what you do or what fucked up past you have hiding. I respect what you did." His gaze darts to Scott, and then back to me, and my best friend shifts.

"So why are you here?" I ask. "I appreciate the vote of confidence and shit but it seems a little excessive."

"I love Peyton. I get her in a way I don't get my brothers. But she doesn't need to be anywhere near my parents. They won't ever accept what she wants, because it's not the picture they have in their mind for her. I get where they're coming from—she's the only daughter and all that shit. But it's bad for her. And she's self-destructive when shit gets bad. So keep her away. Don't let her come back to this."

I stare at him, startled. "You want me to keep Peyton away from her family?"

"I don't want you to be the reason Peyton comes back to her family. She won't, not on her own. But she loves you and you've never had one. She wants to give to the people she loves, and if she thinks this is something you want, she'll come home just to give you what you never had. And it'll destroy her, and what you two have. No one wants that. Well, I don't. She doesn't. You don't. So do her and yourself a favor and build your life without her family."

"But you love her."

"I do. And I'm going to be around, especially when I get out of college and can cut the apron strings. But in the meantime, I want my sister happy. Do that for me." He stares at me, and his eye aren't amused or laughing. He's dead serious. I nod and his lips twitch into a tired smile. "Thanks man. I--just thanks."

He hugs me, abruptly, and I go stiff, startled. Behind him, Scott is staring his eyes huge and laughing. Then he steps back and grins at me. “Take care of yourself, Rike.”

Chapter 24 : After

I want to strip the masks from you,