Bowl Full of Cherries by Raine O'Tierney

anymore.
    He was fifteen.
    People were laughing.
    He was sobbing.
    He struggled hard against Rell’s legs, ripping away from him and stumbling back.
    “Hey, I’m sor—”
    “ Don’t do that.” Crowley grabbed onto the refrigerator, his face turned down to the ground.
    “Look, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
    “I’m just… I….” He couldn’t even get the words out. Teenage Crowley fought adult Crowley for dominance. He was making an ass of himself; he could tell, just by the concerned look in Rell’s beautiful blue eyes. His mouth came open. There was too much to say, and he didn’t have a voice. Crowley fled the kitchen, running into the hallway, grabbing his bag, starting to move and stopping like a dog penned in.
    He didn’t know which room was his.
    Jeez. Hell. Damn.

Chapter 6

     
    “F UCK ,” R ELL muttered, sliding down off the counter. Well, he’d botched the hell out of that, hadn’t he? He ran a hand over his face and looked at Crowley’s uneaten salad. Sometimes he was a total idiot about stuff. Go on, tease the fat kid . Except Crowley wasn’t fat and even if he had been, Rell wouldn’t have teased him about it.
    Crowley was tall—almost the same height as Rell—with broad shoulders, strong arms, a well-built frame. Sure, maybe there was a little extra padding there? He definitely wasn’t a stick. Crowley Fredericks was sturdy. That was a good word for it. Sturdy, but soft. Thinking back on it, Rell could feel the muscles underneath the soft.
    And he was handsome. Long curls that he pulled back from his face in a ponytail. Dark blond at the roots, fading to a lighter blond, like he got out in the sun a lot. Chocolate-brown eyes, a good smile. The freckles, the dimple. He was a good-looking guy.
    Shit.
    Maybe it wasn’t the sandwich. Maybe it was Rell’s legs. He hadn’t thought anything about it because he and Tyler used to pull crap like that on each other all the time. Just last year, he’d put his brother into a tight leg-lock and held on to the counter to try and keep his “prisoner” from escaping. But even if they were fast friends, he and Crowley weren’t family. Space issues and all of that.
    Jesus. Rell was bound and determined to screw everything up.
    With a sigh, he finished the last few bites of sandwich and wiped his hands on his jeans. He’d just walked into the dining room when Andy, Jack, and Charley trooped into the kitchen in full play mode. The boys were in jeans and Marvel superhero sweatshirts, but Charley wore her combat boots, camo leggings, plus her tutu and her tiara.
    The three snuck around the table (even Andy who was the oldest) and pretended to be holding walkie-talkies in their cupped hands. He was pretty sure they had a real set out in the garage. Not that anyone could get to it just yet.
    “Do you think it’s safe? Over,” Charley asked.
    Jack peeked up over the table at Rell, who half-saluted him.
    “Enemies over the horizon, Captain. Over.”
    “Enemies?” Andy asked. “What kind?” And then, “Over.”
    Jack popped up again, just so his eyes were showing. He was staring at Rell, “Mean-looking ones. Big. Ugly.”
    “You forgot to say ‘over,’” Rell told him mildly, and then thought, oh, what the hell? He flung himself forward, swinging under the table where the kids shouted and scattered from his pawing hands. “Run!” he called after them. “Run you cowards!”
    “Retreat men! Retreat!” Andy yelled into his cupped hand as he flew through the door.
    “You’d better run,” Rell muttered, righting the chair Charley had knocked over. He heard smothered laughter behind him and looking up found his sister, Jes, staring at him. She had a hand on her hip.
    “Enemy invaders.” He shrugged. “We get them a lot.”
    “Seems that way. Is there a reason why Tyler’s friend is sitting in the hallway?”
    “Yes. Probably not near as interesting as why Katie came through here with her ugly cry face on?” It was a question and