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I wait for them to kick me out, for them to realize this is one meal they never share with anyone who isn’t pack. They don’t even share this with our parents. This ritual is practically sacred. My knuckles turn white around the stem of my glass.
“I can order something else. It’s not a big deal.”
Brady, still brooding, releases a harsh breath. “Sit down, Quinn.” The demand is more obligatory than inviting.
“Really. I know this is your guys’ thing, and I don’t want to intrude because Austin pities me.” I take a step away from the table, but Austin holds up his hand.
“If you don’t sit that little omega ass in the chair and eat my food, I’ll be offended.”
“But—”
“Quinn.” Dylan crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll put you in your seat if you don’t learn to listen.”
I snap my mouth closed and sit, then glare at Dylan, who simply chuckles at having gotten me to do what he wanted.
“You act like I have cooties.” He pretends to be offended and takes the seat beside me.
Brady sits across from me at the head of the table, and Austin sits on the other side of me.
“Please, a hot-shot MMA fighter like you?” I roll my eyes. “You definitely have groupie cooties.”
“Ugh, groupies.” He shakes his head. “Not my type.” Snatching the dish with the steak, he drops one onto my plate first, then serves himself and passes the platter to Austin.
“Hot chicks who think you were put on Earth by god aren’t your type?” I try to grab the next dish out of his hands, but he pulls it away and glares at me until my hands fall into my lap.
“Well”—he drops a spoonful of the rutabaga onto my plate—“now that you mention it...” He trails off with a teasing smirk.
“He doesn’t even pay attention to them, princess. He’s too focused on the fight.” Brady’s words soothe the jealous creature writhing inside of me.
Austin puts some vegetables on my plate. “Remember the Dutton twins?”
Brady laughs, the sound so light for an alpha who seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. “These betas tried so hard to get Dylan to sign their—” He pauses.
“You can saytitsin front of me, Brady. I’m not twelve.”
He scrunches his face but continues the story. “They were desperate for him to sign their tits and Dylan, he’s so intent on getting to the ring that he didn’t even see them and knocked both of them clear on their asses.”
Austin and Brady grin at one another, and Dylan rolls his eyes.
“It’s not that funny. They threatened to press charges,” Dylan tells me. “It was an accident.”
“There were enough cameras and witnesses in the crowd that they didn’t stand a chance.” Brady takes a sip of his wine. “Besides, once they realized I’d drag them to court and make their lives miserable, they dropped the threat.”
Dylan snickers. “My big brother, the terrifying lawyer.”
“You’ll be one soon enough.” Brady cuts a piece of his steak and takes a bite, murmuring praise to Austin before side-eyeing me. “Why would Austin pity you?”
All eyes turn to me. Where’s a hole when you need one? I’d love to fall into it and never come out. “No reason.”
Dylan leans toward me and taps the table, drawing my eyes to his. Unlike his brothers, Dylan lived in this house with me. We’ve shared enough with each other to really know when something is wrong, and Dylan sees through me so easily. His eyebrows draw down hard. “Whose ass do I have to kick?”
“Be kind of hard to kick their ass, seeing as I don’t even know where they are,” I mutter.
“Your fathers?” Brady asks.
I look at him, nod, then quickly look away. “It’s not a big deal, okay? Can we talk about something else?”
For a moment, no one says anything. They’re not going to let it go. Then Brady clears his throat and asks Dylan, “How’s studying?”
