Noah's Adventure - 15. Here comes trouble

We walked out of the office toward the family room, and Shiloh looked absolutely gutted. I got it. His parents rejected him because he was gay. My mother rejected me for… well, a whole buffet of reasons. Mainly because I look exactly like my father.

Brody was sprawled on the floor coloring, and for a second I remembered what it felt like to be that age — zero responsibilities, zero trauma, just crayons and vibes. That’s when I noticed his older brothers sitting on the couch.

“Dom, Dame—when did you get back?” I said, rushing over to hug them.

“We got in yesterday,” Dom said. “But some knucklehead”—he glared at their fathers—“forgot to tell Uncle Chase they were in Bowie and not in New York.”

That earned a round of chuckles.

“I told you we forgot something,” Uncle Brody said to Uncle Matt, who just shrugged.

I caught Shane and Shawn eyeing my cousins, and yeah—valid. Damien and Dominic are identical twins and objectively hot. If we weren’t related, I’d climb both like trees.

“Dame, Dom, this is my boyfriend Shiloh and his brothers Shane and Shawn.”
The boyfriend part made Shiloh’s head snap toward me. Guess he didn’t expect me to go full send on that one.

We all sat and listened to Dame and Dom talk about their Europe trip with Uncle Chase—Uncle Brody’s brother, and also Great-Uncle Ted’s brother-in-law. Meanwhile, Shiloh kept bouncing his leg like he was thinking himself in circles.

Honestly? Good thing I can’t hear his thoughts. Uncle Matt does that mind-reader thing at work, says it helps him understand people. I say it’s invasive and creepy. He says I’m dramatic. I say he should stop. It’s an ongoing battle.

That’s when I caught part of an argument between Brody and Tristan.

“Since you’re Brody Jr, your nickname should be B2,” Tristan said. “I called my brother T2 because he was Tristan Jr.”

“I’m not bingo,” Brody said flatly. Kid was carrying on a whole conversation while still coloring like nothing was happening.

“How do you not get confused?” Tristan asked.

“Easy. Daddy and Dad call me Brody, Little B, B-Man, and when I do something bad, Brody Justin Andrews-Jacobs.”

“I like Little B and B-Man,” Tristan said.

I remembered when he was born and they were debating names. The absolute terror they had about him ending up nicknamed BJ. They shut that down immediately.

“Come here, Little B,” I said. He grinned, hopped up, and launched into my lap. He gives the best hugs.

“Little B,” I said, “give Shiloh one of your hugs. He could use it.”

Little B brightened, crawled into Shiloh’s lap, and wrapped him up. Shiloh was stiff at first, then melted like he’d been waiting for that exact hug all day. God, I wish all problems could be solved with a hug.

Then—a sharp knock at the door.

Grandma walked over, opened it, and I heard low, tense voices.

“Are you sure?” Grandma asked.

“Yes, ma’am. The intelligence indicates the threat is valid,” the man replied.

My stomach dropped.

“Commence evacuation,” Grandma said—firm, commanding, no room for debate.

Outside, tires screeched. Somewhere above us, helicopters thundered—close.

“What’s going on?” I asked, heart hammering.

Grandma looked at me, then Grandpa. Her expression said everything.

“We need to get you somewhere safer,” she said, almost casually.

“What?” I yelled. “Safer? What is going on?”

“Your mother—or someone very close to her—has put a large bounty on your head.”

Little B laughed. “There not a paper towel on Noah’s head. Grandma’s crazy.”

Ah, to be young and completely clueless.

“She put the word out,” Grandma said, “and let’s just say it got the attention of the wrong people. We need to go. Now.”

Grandma grabbed my hand and Shiloh’s, and in the blink of an eye the world blurred—

—and suddenly we were standing in a conference room.

“What—where are we?” I said. Brody was still wrapped around Shiloh’s neck like a terrified baby koala. One by one, other family members started appearing out of nowhere, dizzy and bewildered.

“What was that?” Dom asked, staring at his father—who vanished again before he could answer.

“Teleportation,” Grandpa said. “Takes getting used to. I got sick the first few times.”

“That’s not possible,” Dame said, collapsing into the nearest chair.

Grandma reappeared beside him. “To answer your question—we’re at Black Hawk Headquarters.”

“As in the company you work for?” I asked.

“The one and the same,” Uncle Nick said, suddenly appearing at the head of the table like Batman with a pension plan.

“Where did you come from?” Dom asked, looking pale.

“Take a seat, boys,” Uncle Matt said, popping into the room beside his brother. “We’ve got things to talk about.”