Four

Brock

Smoothing out the duvet, with its new mint green cover purchased specially for Wynne, soothes something inside of me. My whole life, everything has always been so dark, like living in a constant state of dusk. When I left Ireland, I'd hoped I would be able to leave the past, and my family's legacy, behind me. I should have known that my father's reach went well beyond our island, and that the darkness would not just follow me, but draw me right back in. I can't complain, though. That darkness is what brought us Zephyr, and by association, our Wynnie girl.

The first time I saw her, my universe exploded in color. The shining auburn of her hair, the sparkling emerald of her eyes, the golden dusting of her freckles, and the soft pink of her lips suddenly painted my world in ways I couldn't even comprehend. Thankfully, Zeph was very clear that she was not to be touched, or even looked at for more than a glance. As much as her rainbow of colors brightens my world, I know that, if given a chance, I would taint her with all the darkness and ugliness that is my life.

Having her stay with us, even just while she heals, feels like a lucky break from the tenebrosity. As soon as she drifts off into her pain-killer-induced slumber, I quietly slip out. Even the thought of Wynne sleeping on the same dirty old mattress with the flat, scratchy wool blanket and flatter, musty old pillows that we kept in the guest room for our men when they needed a place to lay low disgusts me. Wynne is pure, inside and out, and nothing in our world should ever have a chance to stain her.

I directed my pickup truck to the local big box store as soon as I left the hospital. It turns out, you can pick up an entire house's worth of furniture, bedding, linens, and towels all in one spot these days, provided you have a big enough bank account and live in America. Lucky for me, I check both of those boxes these days. I spent several hours picking out the perfect mattress, bed frame, and accessories that speak Wynne's name to me the most, along with half of the first-aid aisle. I'm sure our men will appreciate the upgrades after her stay is over, but I definitely don't have any of them in mind as I debate between the pastel yellows, pinks, and greens that would now adorn the room. Had they been on my mind, I wouldn't have picked a single thing that could potentially show a blood stain.

As Zeph and Sully kept vigil at the hospital, making sure our sun stays shining for us all, I headed home and deep cleaned the room we never even think about most days, hauling all the old bedding straight into the incinerator in the building's basement. I set up her new bed frame and nightstands and hauled the mattress up all four flights of stairs when it didn't fit in the elevator. I'm sure the guys would argue that someone as tiny as our Wynnie girl doesn't need a California King sized bed, and the men that typically inhabit this room don't deserve the luxury of Egyptian cotton sheets and towels, but I could not make myself buy anything less than the best for the girl that unknowingly colored my world.

After laundering all the new bedding and towels and curtains, I set about making her room as comfortable as possible.

Her room. The idea alone sends shivers down my spine, my arms breaking out in gooseflesh. I know she can never be mine, but something deep inside warms at the thought of coming home to her day after day, a welcome smile on her face rather than the shared look of exhaustion and pain from my two brothers and the weight of the burdens we share.

I know we can't keep her forever, not with our lives and our families being so dangerous. I know I can't ever be more than her friend, the guy that makes dirty jokes over waffles and sends her TikTok videos of all of us with silly filters, or of dancing cartoons to make her smile when she tells Zeph she's had a bad day. Knowing does nothing to change the fact that I would lay down my life for Wynne Greenwood, and she wouldn't even need to ask.