Magnolia Parks (The Magnolia Parks Universe Book 1)

I walk into Hide over in Piccadilly and the boys erupt in a cheer.

It’s a bit past breakfast time, don’t know what day it is.

Paps outside. Love it when they get the four of us together.

The Billionaire Boys—that’s what they call us. Joke’s on them though, because none of us are billionaires. Maybe if we combined trusts.

“Ey!” my brother cheers.

“The man, the myth—” Christian starts.

Jonah smacks me on the back as I sit down next to him. “I can’t believe she let you out of the house, mate.” I roll my eyes. “Do you have an ankle bracelet on?” He checks.

I flag down the waitress. She’s cute. Short hair, button nose.

“Excuse me, hey.” I smile at her. “Can we get some drinks for the table?”

“Coffees?”

I grin at her silliness, shake my head.

“No, sweetheart,” grins Jo. “The hard stuff.”

I point at the Hemmes boys: “Two Bloody Marys.” I point to Hen: “A screwdriver.” Point to myself: “Greyhound.”

“You got it.” She smiles at me in a way that tells me I could have her on her back later if I wanted to.

Jonah catches it, gives me a slight wink. “So,” Jo says, looks around the table. “I just want to be clear—Ol’ BJB hasn’t slept in his bed at our place for over two weeks.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true.”

“Without Parks,” he adds.

That might be true. Won’t say that out loud.

My brother combs his hands through his hair. “Interesting, interesting—because Allie said Bridget said you nearly kissed the other night.” Roll my eyes. Parks and me, we always nearly kiss.

“And,” Henry continues, “Mum was saying to me just this morning that you and Magnolia slept at their place two nights the week before last.”

I breathe out my nose. Are these clowns keeping a fucking logbook or something?

“Mum also noted that Magnolia didn’t sleep in Magnolia’s Room, she slept in yours.”

“Okay.” I wave a dismissive hand. “So the takeaway here is that you, Mum, Al, Bridget and Jo all have too much time on your hands.”

Christian’s quiet, I notice. He’s just watching me, not a lot of expression. That’s not crazy weird for him either, he’s pretty stoic. Extra stoic when it comes to Parks though.

The waitress brings over our drinks, slips me her number and I pocket it out of habit.

“You gonna call her?” Christian asks.

I scratch my nose. “Nah.” I look back at her. Pretty hot. “Maybe.”

I make a point of not looking at him, I don’t want to see his face—tell me that I’m doing something wrong. I don’t know what’s with him. He’s not some fucking moral compass—not with what their family does. And I mean, they’re all protective of Parks. They’d have ripped that shite Calloway a new one if I barked once, but Christian’s different to Henry and Jonah. He’s just protective of Parks because of their—whatever, I guess.

We came to blows about it once. About three years ago. Me and the lads were supposed to nip off to Prague for a boys’ weekend but Christian pulled out last minute, said he had a work event or some shit—they run clubs, the Hemmes brothers—anyway, our flights were cancelled so we just went out that night anyway.

It wasn’t long after me and Park had ended. Fresh. Like we’re talking, under three months.

Got to The Box over in Soho—me, Hen and Jo, and I swear to God, the second we walked in, my heart fell fifty floors.

She was in the darkest corner of the club, but I could spot her anywhere, my girl, being kissed and felt up by some fuckwit. I was incensed. Couldn’t believe it.

Barreled over, pulled the guy off her—it was a reflex. Tossed him to the side. I didn’t realise it was Christian straight away. And everything about this part of it lags in my brain—I remember Parks looking sad—maybe a bit ashamed? And I was looking at her like she betrayed me, and even though she hadn’t, she had. I remember the feeling my heart had—like, fuck. This is what you did to her but a hundred times worse.

And then my brain went into overdrive. Christian lied about the trip so he could be with… Parks? He lied to me? To be with her? My her? My brain instant-replayed their kiss in my mind—that wasn’t their first fucking kiss.

My insides went from ragged to hulk.

I turned towards Christian, who had barely gotten up off the floor, and charged at him. Grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt, dragged him through the crowd, knocking people and glass over. There was smashing, screaming—I didn’t care, I couldn’t stop. Slammed him up against the wall, looked him in the eye—I wanted him to be drunk or high or some shit, but he was dead sober, so I cracked him in the jaw.

The sound was loud but not loud enough to drown out the screaming of Parks.

I looked back at her—Jonah was holding her back.

“Beej—” Christian started, but I couldn’t—so I hit him again.

He wasn’t fighting back, which was weird, because Christian’s the best fighter out of all of us, but he did nothing. Just looked up at Jonah, waiting for him to intervene, but Jonah just shook his head, shoved Parks towards my brother.

I threw him into the wall again.

“Stop!” Christian yelled, shoving me back and away as he squared up, but he didn’t want to fight me.

“Excuse me?” Jonah said, getting in close to his baby brother’s face.

Christian’s eyes went all tired and hurt. “You going to let him beat me up, Jo?”

“No.” Jonah gave him a long look. “I’m going to help him.”

Me and Jo, right? Thick as thieves. Brothers.

My mum was a bit nervous about me and Hen hanging out with the Hemmes because even though it’s not really spoken about, people know what their family does, you know? I mean, you have a tea with their mum for thirty seconds and Rebecca Barnes will blow all your worries away. It’s why she’s good at what she does.

Jonah and I were always close through primary, played the same sports and shit, but in year eight, we came home after Saturday sports. Found his sister drowned in the pool.

We were twelve. She was four. Dove in, fished her out. I tried to resuscitate her. Jonah called for help. She was blue. Gone. Gone well before we got there.

The boys stayed at our house for a month. Bridge was right about trauma bonds.

So, Parks, right—standing in The Box, screaming at me and Jonah to let Christian go, to leave him alone—made it worse if I’m honest, hearing her care about anyone but me.

“Hemmes,” said the bellowing voice of a club bouncer from behind us all. He shook his head. “Outside.”

Jonah pulled Christian up off the wall, tossing him in the direction of the door, shoving him as we walked, hard enough that he tumbled out onto the street.

And then I don’t know what happened, I was just kicking one of my best friends in the stomach.

“Is she your work thing?” I yelled at him and Parks was sobbing in the background, I couldn’t even focus on her to hear.

Jonah sort of just stood back, watching. Letting us work it out.

“Beej,” Christian croaked, wiping blood from his face. “You don’t—”

“What? Understand?” I growled. “It’s Parks. She’s mine.” I picked him up off the ground and shoved him again. “She’ll always be mine.”

“No!” she spat at me, shouldering her way out of Henry’s arms and grabbing mine, spinning me to face her and she looked me dead in the eye. “Fuck you.”

I looked over her head to Henry. “Take her home.” I couldn’t even look her in the eyes, mine were a mess, all teary and shit, and she’s there screaming, “You can’t make me leave, come on Christian. Let’s go—”

She looked afraid. That makes me feel sick now when I think back to that night, that we scared her.

“He’s not going with you, Parks,” Jonah told her.

“Yes, he is.” She sniffed, reaching for Christian, but Jonah shoved him away from her.

“Take her home now,” I yelled at Henry again, giving him warning eyes.

“Just go, Magnolia,” Christian told her. The way he looked at her still pisses me off now. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

Jonah made a growl at the back of his throat, but Christian shot him a look and something about it made Jonah back off. “I’ll call you in the morning,” Christian repeated.

Henry grabbed Parks’ arm, pulling her back towards a car.

“I hate you,” she choked out to me, barely meeting my eyes.

I don’t think she’d ever hated me before, even when I did what I did. My jaw clenched, and then I punched Christian in the stomach. Beat him up ’til he was vomiting in an alley behind the club he was kissing my girl in, left him there. Makes my ribs feel like they’re twisting inside my chest remembering that shit. Christian’s beat up-face, my fucked-up fists, all the questions I needed to know the answers to so I could figure out how to breathe again. Did they have sex? Had he seen her naked? Where had he touched her?

I still don’t know, actually.

“So, Beej.” Jonah bumps me in the chest. “Be honest. Are you shagging Parks?”

I swat my hand through the air. “No, man.”

“Jo,” Christian says and snorts, “the second Magnolia Parks lets him back in her bed, this one’ll throw a fucking parade.”

I toss him a bored smile. “I’ve been in her bed since I was fifteen.”

“Yeah,” my brother tosses me a look. “But he’d throw a parade if she let him back in her though—”

“Watch it.” I point at him. But also, it’s probably true. Jonah chuckles. Christian doesn’t. Tries to smile. Doesn’t land.

“What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day, lads?” Jonah glances around.

“Uni,” sighs Henry.

“I’m having dinner with Baby Haites tonight.” Christian yawns.

“Eyy.” I grin over at him. Happy genuinely, both for him and for myself. “I like her.”

He glances over, gives me a sort of amused, sort of unimpressed look. “Yeah, she likes you too, actually.”

Henry looks between us. “Oh, fuck me, boys—let’s not do that one again.”

Jonah leans back in his chair, yawning. “What about you, big man?”

I lift my T-shirt up, showing my stomach, smacking it a couple of times,

“Gains?” Jonah asks. “What are you pumping these days?”

“Besides Miu Miu models,” Christian offers.

My brother leans in, curious. “Oy, how did you manage that?” I roll my eyes at them all collectively. “I’m asking seriously,” he presses.

“Oh, fuck off.” I throw back my drink.

“In the loo?” Jonah whispers.

I snort a laugh. “My car.”