He answered on the second ring.

“I have a guy,” I blabbered into the phone.

“In your basement?” my brother asked without missing a beat. “Make sure the handcuffs are secure.”

I smiled, cradling my glass of wine against my chest. “I always make sure the handcuffs are secure,” I told him deadpan. “But this one doesn’t need to be restrained.”

Though it was incredibly inappropriate, my mind went to what Rowan’s opinions on restraints in the bedroom would be. Sure, he was an incredibly dominant guy, and I was more than willing to submit to him, but something hot sparked inside of me at the thought of him being completely at my mercy.

Then I remembered I was on the phone with my brother, and I was a terrible, sex-crazed woman to be thinking of that in that moment.

“Oh my god, you’re thinking about restraining the guy you don’t currently have restrained,” Ansel exclaimed, reading my mind in that uncanny way of his.

The uncanny way of ours, I guessed since I could do the same with him. It made sense... We knew each other that well. We’d shared a womb. And we’d also shared a life full of traumas. We had only had each other for the longest time. There was no me without him.

“The sex must be good if you’re thinking about restraints while on the phone with your brother,” he snickered.

“Stop,” I hissed, grateful that he couldn’t see my expression. “He’s building me a greenhouse.”

I watched both Rowan and Kip moving about, purposefully, with the fluidity of two men who had worked beside each other for years.

“A greenhouse?” my brother repeated.

I nodded, watching Maggie run happily around the backyard. “Like in Practical Magic.”

“Holy fuck,” my brother breathed. “You’ve been seeing a guy long enough for him to know you and love you enough to build you a fucking greenhouse, and you’re only now just telling me?”

“I only just started seeing him,” I rushed to explain. “It’s happened… fast.”

“Fuck yes, it has,” my brother agreed.

“Is it too fast?” I asked, biting my lip. “I mean, I was engaged not that long ago.”

“To an asshole,” my brother scoffed, not one to mince words.

I winced at the memory of the one and only time Ansel had met Nathan. Sure, my brother was protective over me, even though historically, I had been the one who took care of the both of us. Boyfriends, and men in general, were when he didn’t fuck around.

He didn’t go completely crazy like a dad with a shotgun. He made an effort to get to know them. To be polite while giving off the energy he wouldn’t hesitate to put them in the ground if they hurt me.

My brother was not a violent man. Not even a little bit. Sure, he looked like he was since he spent a lot of time in the gym, building considerable muscles. He boxed three times a week. Mostly because he wanted to be strong. Because he wanted to be able to take care of himself, make sure he would never be a victim again.