The first coherent memory I have of Damien Holt was our third summer at the beach house. We'd been seven and it was supposed to be the summer everything returned to normal. We'd go to the beach house as we usually did, unpack, and I'd walk out to find my parents gazing out over the deck on the second story of the nose, staring lovingly down at my brothers, the Holts, and I as we played in the cold water of the pool.
Instead, it'd been the last summer I'd spent here. It had been weeks of constant screaming matches between our parents, Phillip and Buckley almost always caught in the crossfire as they tried to calm our parents with their level heads. Phoenix and Damien had always just sat beside me, watching as my older brothers fell wounded in the war raged between our parents daily. The night Damien had come to me was a little fuzzy around the edges, but it had been close to the end of the summer. He had found me crying in Aden's room, my hands over my ears to block out the fighting echoing through the large house. When he realized my brother wasn't there, he didn't say anything at all, but shut the door and joined me on his best friend's bed. His eyes had shined with more green that usual that night, and he looked to be just as miserable I was.
"My parents fight too." He'd said softly. "Nix usually distracts me, but I still hear it."
I hadn't spoke, but my brother's best friend had sat down beside me, pointing toward the window. "The waves. Maybe if you focus on them, it'll stop you from thinking about your parents."
I'd done as he said, but he still remained next to me. The sound of glass shattering had startled us both, his own tough expression crumbling as he buried his head in his hands. After a moment I had taken his hand and led him closer to the window, and we both just stood there, watching the waves crash against the shore, crying.
The expression the man before me wore now triggered the memory I had long since buried deep in my subconscious. He was most definitely hung over, but his entire being radiated the same energy that had been between us in Aden's room that night.
"Ari?" Damien's voice was a good few octaves lower than his older brother's. It startled me. These men wore the faces of the boys I once knew, but were most definitely not them anymore. "Arianna?"
Then, for the first time since he'd walked into the room five minutes prior, his lips curved upward into a smile, showcasing the only family resemblance he shared with his brother. Hesitating for a moment, he crossed the room and hugged me. His hug was unlike my Phil and Nix's life siphoning ones, but more like Buckley, protective but not tight enough to force my soul to leave my body.
"You look—" Damien started, but his brother draped his arm over my shoulder with a grin, cutting him off.
"Hot."
Buckley started to make gagging sounds, feigning that he was ready to throw up as he headed for the kitchen. I smiled a little at the immaturity and looked between the brother's on either side of me. "Thanks."
When I looked back to Phil, he was peering up the staircase, frowning. "Where are Sam and Aden? I know Hud's at work, but I told those two idiots Ari was going to be here today."
Both boys perked up at the mention of their best friend's names, but Nix was the one who responded. "Sam's still getting dressed. He wants to look all sophisticated and proper. No idea where Aden is."
I'd never quite understood how Sam and Phoenix had become friends, let alone stayed them for this long. As far back as I could remember, Sam was the quiet, pessimistic kid. He always found the negative in everything and made sure to point it out to everyone and dampen their mood. Phoenix was like the sun; radiant and optimistic, shining a light and his happiness one everyone. He was the little golden boy, Sam was the outcast, but maybe that's why it worked. Maybe Nix was the light for him. I'd thought Sam might grow out of his funk, but the way his friend was speaking of him was a definite sign stating otherwise.
"Speaking of the handsome devil." Nix broke the silence, nodding toward the stairs. He then brought his fingers in front of his mouth and made a trumpet like sound as my brother started down the stairs. Phil cracked a small smile, but Damien just stared at the stairs, looking as if he were trying to process what was going on.
Moments later, the middle child came into view, flipping Phoenix his favorite finger.
Both Phil and Buckley had grown into themselves, but still the same features that made them distinguishable between them and random guys. Sam, however, looked nothing like the ten year old I'd left crying on the staircase ten years ago. The pale blue eyes that every Bennett boy had seemed to inherit from our mother, were behind a pair of navy glasses. The boyish features had vanished, replaced with a sharp jawline, perfect cheekbones, and lips that began to part in surprise at the sight of me. Even what he wore was pompous and very model like. His button up white shirt had only the bottom four buttons fastened, and the black pants he wore looked like something out of the Abercrombie magazine ads my mother used to flip through during Chemo.
"Ari?" He stepped off the last step, hugging me quickly before grasping my forearms and staring me up and down. "My God, you look so grown."
I touched a hand to the button up. "You do too, Sam. It's been ten years."
The shock had been quick to dissipate in Phil and Buck, but Sam, even as he backed away, remained wide eyed and continued to shake his head in astonishment.
I felt a hand brush against mine and turned to find Nix's knuckles brushing against my clenched fist. He didn't say anything, but when I met his eyes, they were prompting me to say something. When I only stared, he flashed my brothers a grin and returned his arm to its new favorite spot over my shoulders.
"Since none of you idiots want to show her to her room, I will show her some hospitality and do it myself." Damien rolled his eyes at the comment, but touched a gentle hand to my shoulder before finding his way back down the hall. My brothers started chatting quietly as Phoenix led me up the stairs, leaning into me as we reached the curve, "You okay?"
I didn't try and respond, the dryness in my throat that I'd felt as the plane landed at LAX this morning returning. These men, they weren't my brothers. They only wore their faces and carried their memories.
At the top of the stairs were two rooms on the left and one directly across on the right. There was a room at the end of the hall with what appeared to be a bathroom beside it. Nix, tearing himself from me, stuck himself to the wall between the two rooms on the left, knocking on it.
"I'm right next door if you need anything, if you know what I mean." He winked, and succeeded at getting a small smile out of me before he continued. "Across from us is Damien, and Sam's at the end of the hall. That tiny ass thing right there is our sorry excuse for a bathroom. Phil, Buck, Aden, and Hud are downstairs, but Philly and Buck are bunking together now since you're here."
I felt a slight pang of guilt in my chest, but didn't say anything aloud as Nix pushed the door to my room open and stepped aside to give me the chance to step in. My eyes were immediately drawn to the view outside the window. This had been Aden's room. This had been the room I'd sat in and watched the waves crash against the shore with Damien eleven years ago.
"You're welcome." He threw himself back on to the twin bed, disheveling the navy blue comforter as he smiled up at me. "I literally had to beg Damien to give you this room."
I looked toward him, surprised. "You didn't have to do that."
"'Course I did." He sat up. "Because you're the Queen of the house now."
I could feel a smile tugging at the inner corners of my lips. Damn Phoenix and his infectious laughter and smiles.
He must have sensed the internal fight within me, because he stood and took a strand of my dark hair between his fingers and met my eyes, his beautiful eyes sympathetic. "I'm sorry about your mom, Fae."
I couldn't do anything more than stare at the guy before me with a blank expression. I had gotten my fair share of condolences over the last month, including from my own brother, but there was just something different about it coming from Phoenix, a clear and undeniable sincerity.
"Well, I am the designated chef in this place." He said, shifting back into his happy bubble. "It's nice having you back here, Fae. Maybe. . . maybe it'll be just like old times."
He then dropped my hair and hugged me again, but this hug wasn't a rushed moment of pure shock. It shared the same protective quality I'd felt when his brother had hugged me, but with it's own Phoenix aura about it. Then, without another word, he exited the room, closing my door so it was only left open a crack behind him.
I blinked the tears in my eyes away and moved to the window, touching my fingertips to the sill as I stared out at the water. For a moment I saw my mother standing in front of the water, head tilted back as she let the shore breeze rustle the white cardigan she'd slipped over her bathing suit. Slowly, a wave crashed against the shore, and when it receded, it took the image of my mother with it. I touched my hand to the bracelet on my wrist, blinking multiple times to try and force back tears, but they still managed to break through.
"Ari, in the end, all we have is family." Had been the final words that had ever broke passed my mother's bloodied, chapped lips. But as I leaned my head against the window, hugging my arms around myself, I couldn't help but think back to the men I'd greeted downstairs.
Was this my family or just the remnants of what could have been?