Quinn’s gaze flicks to me over the rim of her glass. Calm and curious. That psychologist stare that makes me want to put ona show and also rip my skin off. “You look,” she pauses, a slight frown displaying, “well, a little better than roadkill.”
I bark out a laugh. “That’s one way to describe me.”
“No,” she muses. “When you played Sunday, you looked like you were exactly where you’re supposed to be. You were so alive.”
My throat goes tight. I can handle thousands of people screaming my name, but one sentence from Quinn? It hits different. “Don’t try to save me, Doc,” I warn with a smirk. “I can’t be cured.”
Her lips curve. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”
The words are soft, almost teasing, but I feel them land deep. I hold her cool blue stare and keep my face smooth. “I’m not afraid of anything.” I advise with a short sneer.
She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me for a second. Sadie, thank God, interrupts. “Quinn, come help me with something.” She hooks her arm through her sister’s, tugging her away. “Dean’s busy.”
“I’m literally standing right here,” Dean’s brow furrowing as he misses what Sadie’s intention is.
“You’re busy,” Sadie emphasizes sweetly, and they disappear toward the house, Quinn throwing one last glance over her shoulder like she’s filing my reaction away for later.
Hayden watches them go, then looks at me. “You’re spiraling.”
“I am not,” I defend, too fast.
“You are,” Dean agrees immediately. “You get this twitchy thing in your jaw.”
“I don’t have a twitchy jaw.”
Dean points at my face. “It’s doing it right now.”
I flip him off, then tip the tequila bottle back and take a long pull. The burn hits my throat and settles warm in my stomach. It’s familiar in a way I don’t mind.
“Okay,” Hayden chuffs, looking away like he’s bored. “We’re not doing this.”
“Doing what?” I demand.
He shrugs. “The thing where you act like you don’t give a shit about anything and everyone has to watch you pretend.”
I stare at him, because Hayden doesn’t talk unless he means it. “Fuck you,” I growl.
He lifts his glass in a half salute. “Fuck you back.”
Dean snorts. “I’m gonna get more food. Try not to drown in your feelings, Mikey.”
“You can fuck off too,” I snarl.
He flips me off as he walks away, and Hayden drifts away a second later, leaving me alone with the pool and the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses and my big brother’s perfect life.
I turn toward the house because I need a distraction, and watch as Luc comes out the back doors with Lily, Larkin in her arms. Larkin squeals at the sight of the pool like she’s about to sprint and cannonball herself into it. Lily laughs, setting her down carefully near Marie, who instantly swoops in like a professional grandma and takes over.
Luc’s eyes scan the yard, landing on me. He grins and walks over like he’s the kind of guy who can carry a baby and a crowd at the same time. “Hey.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “You survive Sunday?”
“Feels like a dream.” I admit. “I’ll be haunted by Soldier Field forever.”
He laughs. “It was insane.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “You were insane.”
He hums like he’s trying not to accept the compliment because he’s my brother and we don’t do that too openly. But he knows. He knows he’s the best. He’s always been first. And I’ve never needed to compete with that.
Even when we were kids, he was the one the teachers liked, the one the girls liked, the one that coaches liked. The one who would get hit and get back up with a grin like he enjoyed it. The one who took punches and turned them into fuel. The one who never looked small.
