Sacha blinked very seriously. “Who’s on it?”

Wiping my hands on my shorts, I tore a piece of cinnamon bun off. “Mason—”

He nodded, understanding off the bat why I’d put Mase on the list. He’d been way too eager about making sure my head got shaved.

“I’m still on the fence with Freddy for missing his shot—”

That time, Sacha shrugged.

“And my brother.” Definitely my brother.

He bit the inside of his cheek. “I thought he was going to try and fight me after I kicked the ball at you.”

Yeah, that made me laugh. “I’m surprised he didn’t high-five you or try to give you a hug.”

He paused.

And the pause said it all.

I opened my mouth. “He did, didn’t he?”

To give him credit, he nodded, a sheepish expression on his face. “He gave me a hug and said he owed me a drink.”

I would call my brother a traitor-ass-bitch if I didn’t know Eli any better than I did. But I did, and if he’d gotten all bent out of shape in my honor, I would have asked him if he was dying or something.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if Sacha knew how ruthless he was. “I should have smothered him with a pillow when I had the chance, I swear.”

Sacha cracked a big smile as I tore off another piece of cinnamon roll and ate it. “You said he’s only a little older than you?” I nodded. “You’re the youngest?” I nodded again. “I’m the youngest of five by a lot. It’s a baby thing. They still call me Sasquatch.”

My mouth gaped for a second before I remembered there was bread inside of it. “Sasquatch?”

“Sasquatch,” he confirmed. “They’ve called me Sacha maybe twice in my entire life. The rest of the time is ‘that damn Sasquatch’ or just ‘Sasquatch.’”

“Girls or boys?”

“Four sisters.” He shook his head as if having a flashback of going through something traumatizing with them. “They were the same way with me as Eli is with you.”

“They used to take craps and purposely not flush the toilet?” I asked with a snort.

Sacha grinned, raking a hand through the longer hair at the top of his head. His tattoos popped against the pale skin beneath the wide bands of ink striping the length of his arm. “Just as bad; they’d leave their tampons all over the place. When I was really young—my oldest sister is almost fourteen years older than me—they’d put dresses on me and tell me that our parents named me Sacha because I was really a girl.”

Somehow I managed to hold back the snort rising through my nose and keep my features even and serious as I asked, “What you’re trying to tell me is that you’re not a girl?”

He stared at me. “Remember when I told you I thought you were funny? I changed my mind. You’re not.”

All I could do was just smile despite the pain that shot through the lower half of my face.

The effort he was putting into not laughing was completely obvious, especially as he raised his dark eyebrows. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you call me Sassy either before you pushed me on the ground.”

What was I going to do? Deny it? “Ask me how many regrets I have?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. I made a circle with my thumb and index finger and held it up for him to see. “Sassy Sacha.”

Before he could reply, a voice I was way too familiar with filled the empty Dallas venue. “GABRIELA!”

“It’s my mom, run,” I whispered under my breath as I leaned to the side to spy the woman who never let me forget how hard it had been to carry twins for almost nine months. On one side of her were my dad, Rafe and two nieces. On the other side of my mom was Eli with his arm around her, our oldest brother Gil and my other niece.