Five Brothers

“This could be it. The Tryst Six motto. A reminder that time is the most valuable commodity and no one can buy more of it. We can try, but the clock ticks and it never stops. It never slows.”

“Doing what you have to in order to survive isn’t noble if your soul can’t survive you,”

“No one will remember me after I’m gone,” I say, “and I’ll never be someone kids learn about in school.”
I drop my eyes, heat covering my cheeks and my pulse racing painfully.
“I just want to love you.” All I can do is whisper. “That, I will do beautifully.”

“I hate you seeing me like this,” he says barely above a whisper.
I give him a half smile and tell him again, “You can let one person see you like this.” And I rest my cheek against his shoulder. “I have a steel stomach.”

“Maybe I just needed to remember how to see the beauty in things. The little things.” He stares at me. “You make things pretty, Krisjen.”

“I want to get in the car with you and drive to a different fucking view tonight. I want to drive fast enough that the sun never comes up.”

“Nothing is better than the wrong thing. Wrong things kill our insides.”

“I didn’t hate these things, because these things are profound. Horrible. Tragic. But profound. And profound is beautiful, because it changes us.”

“I’ll always see you,” I say, but my voice is gravelly with tears. “Even when I close my eyes.”

I toss a marshmallow in the air and catch it in my mouth in front of the baby. He giggles.
“It’s easy to catch shit with a big mouth,” Dallas gripes

”This could be it.
The Tryst Six motto. A reminder that time is the most valuable commodity and no one can buy more of it. We can try, but the clock ticks and it never stops. It never slows.

this wasn’t what i expected AT ALL.
one sees “five brothers” and the mind does all the maths knowing it’s pd we’re talking about, you know?
‼️WRONG‼️
this book actually had a plot and an interesting one too! it also deals with heavy matters and i suggest to read the TWs and i also recommend to read Tryst Six Venom first. i haven’t and the first few pages of this book were a little confusing.

➼ plot
krisjen is a saint but has a thing for the Jaeger brothers. one night she fucks one of them but who?👀🤭🤪

➼ krisjen is a weird character, or at least i have weird feelings about her. she’s kinda stupid sometimes and acts childishly. but other times, she’s really likable. she’s not my fav but she’s a good fmc taking into account she’s been written by pd.

”Maybe I just needed to remember how to see the beauty in things. The little things.” He stares at me. “You make things pretty, Krisjen.”

”He’s okay. He’s always okay. I go to the window again, watching him head back into the garage, dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt. Just like my first memory of him. Needles prick my throat. Macon is my first memory ever. Not my mother or my dad. Macon.”

I take her in my arms, then notice the white dress she’s wearing. Sleeveless and ending at mid-thigh, it has straps across her chest and back, showing slivers of skin. Her hair is soaking wet now, but she feels just as good. And slowly, I start to spin, holding her eyes the whole time. “What are you doing?” she asks, stumbling as she tries to keep up. “It’s our first date.” We’re dancing.

“I think it takes everyone some time to figure out what they want and what they’re worth. Some people spend years settling for something, because it’s better than nothing, before one day we finally realize that it’s actually not. Nothing is better than the wrong thing.”

Iron takes my face. “I want to get in the car with you and drive to a different fucking view tonight. I want to drive fast enough that the sun never comes up.”

”Without ever writing a word, I was a poet. I saw beauty in the unlikely places that scared my parents. In abandoned train tracks. The foster home hells where my friends lived. In house fires, motorcycle crashes, and the destruction in the wake of a storm. In living too hard and dying too young. In tears. In bruises. In abandonment. I didn’t hate these things, because these things are profound. Horrible. Tragic. But profound. And profound is beautiful, because it changes us.”

At some point I really need to learn that men are just not worth the trouble.

“I think that’s why I liked you so much,” I tell her in a low voice. “You seem the same whether you’re around people or not. You never put yourself away.”

Because beauty is in the small things and character is in the flaws, and learning that fact can’t be taught or told.

“It seems I’ve always been missing someone.”

“I guess I’ll forget the things I love, too.” I go back to sanding. “Life takes you over like that. You lose yourself. Who you were when you were five was the real you. Before everything started to kill you.”

I don’t know what it is about her, but I don’t even need to sleep with her. I just really like seeing her in the morning.

“I used to want to do certain things with my life when I was younger,” I tell them, “but now I don’t know what the hell I want, except just to be in love with someone and love our family. To be with people I care about and have great days and a football team living in our house, helping other people make memories and making sure we all smile ten times more than we cry.”

All I know is that I feel it, too, sometimes. People make life hard. Even the ones who love us bring pressure and obligation, and I’m no exception. We’re all culprits of making someone else’s life difficult.

“There will be hard days, Macon. There will be more days like this. When it really hurts to stand up. To face people.” I want to touch him—his hand, something—but I hold back. “But there will be days that no one can touch,” I whisper. “There will be days when you’ll be the strongest one in the room, and they wouldn’t have made it through without you. There will be kids and road trips and hunkering down for hurricanes with our beer and movies and food fights and babies and ice cream in coffee cups.” His head turns just a little, and I can see his eyes. “And early mornings in warm beds,” I say, “when the rain and wind chimes are going and you’re holding her, and these feelings right now are so far away and you can’t stop kissing her. You’ll love being alive.”

“Where is everybody?” She sighs. “They were rushing off when I got up,” she tells me. “It’s supposed to rain later, so they wanted to get all the jobs done before it starts.” They wanted to get all the jobs done … Jesus fucking Christ. Are they all trying to make me proud or something?

“The only thing I need a man to protect me from is a life sentence. He can clean up the evidence when I’m done.”

“I was told I was smart,” I tell him. “That I would take on the world and everyone would know who I was. I would be someone great, and no one would be outside my sphere of influence.” Adults tell every kid they’re significant. We want to believe it. “But the thing is …” I go on, “I’m not unique. I was never that smart. I’ll never be an astronaut, or the captain of a ship, or a professor of biology or philosophy. I’m not a good athlete, and I’m fine seeing mountains and operas and Alaska just on TV.” None of that is what I wanted out of life. I want none of what I was taught to want. “No one will remember me after I’m gone,” I say, “and I’ll never be someone kids learn about in school.” I drop my eyes, heat covering my cheeks and my pulse racing painfully. “I just want to love you.” All I can do is whisper. “That, I will do beautifully.”

Dallas and Iron are one side of the same coin. There’s a detachment inside of them. If they make up their mind it needs to be done, then there is no choice. Army and Trace are the other side of that coin. Loyal, but their conscience takes up a lot of room inside them. Liv is a mixture of both. Things need to be done, and she accepts that she’ll feel like shit about it sometimes. I’m not sure which one I am yet. I always felt like shit hurting someone, but I felt the same watching TV.

Just one more day. I can stay for one more day.