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Huh.
That was it.
Just, huh. I had no other thoughts or feelings, just always perplexed when it came to Cross’ brother, mixed with mild to severe irritation.
“Your brother’s like a skin rash. He won’t go away. Then he’ll go away, and we’ll be like, ‘where’d he go?’”
Cross laughed, his head dipping as he dropped a kiss to my shoulder. “No. Blaise is not a skin rash. He’s just straight up hives. The more stressed I get, the worse he becomes.”
Hives. It fit.
“Jordan and Zellman seem to like his teammates, though.”
“I know.” He sounded disappointed.
We sat there for a bit in silence. It felt nice, hearing the soft sounds of the party now, watching the flicker of the bonfire below, and somehow I felt full inside. Full of life, memories, or just family. I wasn’t going to question it too much. I felt good. I was going with that.
Then Cross’ arm tightened again, and my stomach took a dip.
His chest tensed behind me, and my stomach really took a dip.
If Cross was going to whisk me away from the window for the bed, he wouldn’t have tensed. He would’ve just done it, and then landed on top of me. This, he was preparing himself to tell me something, and I knew innately that it wasn’t something I wanted to hear.
I was going to take a guess. “I can only think of one reason my employers would keep me out of the offices.”
Cross froze behind me.
“And I’ve given it some thought, but I’m wondering was it only my father they had on a wall, or was I up there, too?”
It’s the only explanation that made sense, and why Cross kept me out and why he called Channing first.
Cross cursed behind me.
I was right.
Forget churning, my stomach fell out.
I knew, but… I’d been hoping I’d been wrong.
Cross filled me in on everything, and afterwards, I just sat there. I couldn’t move. Think. Feel. Nothing. Because I knew. I knew.
My dad. This was all about my dad.
It was finally time that I dealt with my dad.
BREN
Jordan was up when I was grabbing coffee the next morning. I saw him outside, a mug in front of him, and he was staring off at the bonfire that still had a little smoke coming from it. I grabbed my own cup, checked the time, and since I had a few minutes before I had to leave, I headed outside.
“Hey.”
The morning air was crisp and chilled.
Jordan looked over, bags under his eyes. His head inclined and he raised his hand a tiny bit off the table. “Morning.”
They partied late last night. We heard them, though they weren’t too loud. What I definitely knew I’d heard late into the night or early into the morning was someone giggling.
I asked, “Did you have an overnight guest?”
Jordan went back to staring at the bonfire, a whole troubled look coming over him. He had on a sweatshirt, the hood pulled low over his face, and he shifted back in his chair. His hands went into the pocket in the front of his sweatshirt, and he pulled the bottom out to rest lower on his lap. He lounged back, his legs stretching out.
“That was Zellman.”
“Ah.”
Jordan looked over at me, his lip curling upwards. “Bren.”
“Hmm?”
“If you want to know about our love lives, you can ask.”
That statement struck me, because it was weird, but it was weird because it shouldn’t have been weird. I grinned at him, rolling my eyes slightly. “I’m not—”
“I know.” He was talking gently. Understanding flashed in his eyes. “Bren, we get it. You’re a chick, but you’re not a chick. We get that, too. For real, and you can ask us about who we’re sleeping with and who we are dating. Shit. We bug you about yours sometimes.”
I felt myself loosening up, though he was right. Talk like this had never been a staple with me and the guys. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt kinda nice being able to ask him. “So, what’s up with you and Tabatha then?”
He groaned, half laughing. His head ducked all the way down until he lifted once more. “Damn. I walked into that one, huh?”
I raised my eyebrows. Waiting.
He sighed, shaking his head. “I have no clue. I’m still reeling about what she did. The whole thing.”
“Did she actually sleep with him?”
He shook his head again. “I have no clue. I can’t bring myself to ask, and I should. Makes me feel like a coward. But the thought—just the thought of any of it… Why didn’t she come to us for help? We could’ve done something. Anything. Her having to do what she did, that shouldn’t have even been on the plate.”
“Did Cross tell you what his brother told him?”
Jordan nodded, a hard laugh ripping from him. “That fuck’s back in the frat house. And what? We’re going to fight an entire frat house, to get them to kick someone out? That’s not what we do. We handle ourselves. That’s what we do, but Tab—she didn’t even come to us. She didn’t come to me.”
