Jordan and Zellman had the bonfire going, each with a girl on their laps. There were a bunch of others sitting with them, drinking, laughing, and flirting. A lot of flirting.

A part of me was perplexed, because not four hours ago we’d shared words with Cross’ brother. Zellman punched him, and Blaise was now one of the guys sitting at the bonfire, Aspen on his lap. She was folded in, her head against his chest, and I was pretty sure she’d fallen asleep an hour into the party. Blaise hadn’t moved an inch, stroking her back almost the entire time.

I just shook my head, watching Zellman now laughing at something Blaise said.

I commented, “How the fuck did that happen?”

Cross’ arm tightened around me. I felt his laugh behind me. “At this rate, who the hell knows.”

We couldn’t stand the guy this summer, then we were reluctantly inviting him over. Words had been shared multiple times. Zellman hit him. And he was down there, sharing a beer, and making not only Zellman, but Jordan, laugh.

“And who are the guys?”

Cross sighed into my ear. “Jordan said he and Aspen ran into them when they were coming back. They’re on Blaise’s soccer team. I’m pretty sure that’s who Blaise wants to be Zeke’s friends, not the frat assholes he hangs with now.”

I moved my head, tipping it so I could see him. “He told you that?”

Cross shrugged. “Not in so many words, but I know he either wants Harper out of the frat house or he wants Zeke out.”

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.”

“I know.”

He raised a hand, rubbing at his forehead. “The funny thing is that at the end of this, I think Tab and I are done. She made that decision, and she’s not asked to come back to me, but Zellman?” He nodded his head upwards, toward the house. “He’s up there fucking some girl. He’s been out, making friends everywhere, and he’s the one I bet is going to get back with his girl.”

Wait. What?

“Sunday?”

He nodded. “He calls her every night.”

I leaned forward, my mouth falling open. “Every night?”

“Almost every night, or a text just to check in. He’s doing it for me, asking about Tabatha, but he’s asking about her, too. The baby. She still hasn’t given birth.”

Right.

Drake’s kid.

My ex’s kid. My ex who was in prison, and to our knowledge, is still alive. And that caused my stomach to clench.

“So, Sunday and Zellman, huh?”

He nodded. “Yep. I think so.”

I squinted at him, cocking my head to the side. “A hundred bucks says they don’t.”

Jordan’s head whipped back to mine, his eyes widening. “What?”

“You heard me.”

But his grin was slowly spreading. “You’re on, because I know my boy, and he’s going to end up married to her.”

I groaned. “Let’s hope not.”

He laughed, then tipped his chin up toward me. “Heading to work?”

“Yeah.”

“You nervous?”

“Yeah.”

He chuckled while standing just as I did. We both grabbed our coffees. “You’ll be fine, Bren. You always are. You’re our stronghold, you know.”

Cross mentioned something similar, but I never really considered it. I didn’t know what to think of that, to be honest, so I just grinned, ducking my head, and we went back inside. Jordan put his coffee away, then headed back to his room. I was pouring my own coffee into a travel mug when I heard more footsteps coming from the living area.

“Hey.”

It was Cross, and he was yawning. Tired lines were around his eyes, his hair was messed up, what there was to actually be messed up, and he was only wearing boxers. His chest was stark and more lean than normal. Jesus. I loved him. I slept with him. I was now living with him, but I forgot sometimes how hot he was. He was reaching for the coffee when he caught me checking him out.

He smirked. “Trust me, you don’t have time for round five, unless you want to be late for work.”

I flushed, the back of my neck getting warm. “Shut up.”

He laughed.

I stepped away, but he hooked a finger in my pants and pulled me to him. My back hit his chest and he leaned forward, catching my ear. His finger moved around to the front and dipped inside there, too. “Call me if you get a bad feeling at work, okay? I’ll be there for you.”