Page 5 of Under Pressure

He’s wearing the recent Havoc sportswear collection on his feet, legs, and chest. The deep green and grey ensemble features our alternate logo on the front and his name across his back. I’ve got a similar set of clothes in my closet at home, which leads to my next question.

“Did you not have anything else to wear?”

His face sours, eyes twitching as he stares at the wall ahead of him. “I had to pose for photos.”

“Did you say ‘cheese’ like a good boy?” Kellan drawls, finished with his sets now.

My smirk is impossible to trap. “I did that last week. Though I had a blast.”

“Yeah, I bet you did. Attention whore.” Kellan snorts before taking the weights off his barbell.

“If you meant that as an insult, you fell short. I wear that title proudly, Kell.”

Asher ignores us both and picks up his pace to a light jog. I follow suit and stretch out my neck, hearing the cracks at the same time I feel the muscles twist with tension.

“Should have brought headphones,” he mutters under his breath.

I snap my fingers and then point at him. “Good point. Maybe a part of you was hoping for a bit of early morning banter.”

“It’s not early,” is his reply.

“It is for me. I’d prefer to sleep until noon.”

Kellan chimes in, “Maybe not noon, but I don’t mind a crisp ten o’clock wake-up call.”

“Anything beats seven,” I add, glancing at Asher. “Don’t tell me you’re an early riser.”

He keeps his face forward, but I catch the hint of an eye roll. “Seven isn’t even early.”

“Ah, shit. You are,” Kellan groans, using the bottom of his shirt as a rag to wipe the sweat from his face.

Asher ignores him mostly but still asks, “Don’t you have to hit the batting cage or something?”

“And miss this bonding time? Fat chance.”

I glance down at my smartwatch, taking a mental note of the time. It’s almost nine, which means I’ve got somewhere to be.

The treadmill chimes at me when I turn it off and come to a stop. I swallow to soothe my dry throat before hopping off and using the back of my hand to wipe my forehead rather than my shirt. The fabric is just as wet as the rest of me by now.

“Really? You’re leaving after I just declared my desire for bonding?” Kellan asks, pouting.

I smack him on the back, then grip his nape and shake him a bit. “You don’t need to bond with me. We’re already brothers.”

“Aye, that’s what I like to hear. You’ll make me blush if you keep talking like that,” he teases, letting his shoulders fall to their natural position.

I make a noise in my throat as I free him with a shove. “And there you go, ruining it. Go flirt with Asher. I’ll see you back here in a bit.”

“Bring me one of those fancy blended coffees, hey?”

Yeah, Kellan’s a know-it-all. One with a pair of loose lips and a penchant for watching me lose my patience. It’s hard to piss me off, and he knows it. That’s got to be the reason he’s subtly hinting at where he knows I’m going. It’s the same place I’ve been going every single day we’re home in Vancouver.

I don’t even remember when this little tradition started. Has it really beenthatlong?

“Chocolate or vanilla?” I ask, perfectly unbothered.

His mouth quirks knowingly. “Let the barista choose for me this time.”

“Will do.”