He knew it.

I knew it.

Hunter aimed—and caught—my shoulder.

“Stop it,” I growled, narrowing my eyes at him.

He ignored me, kneeling to grab more manure. A childish zing of vengeance sparked inside me. I lowered myself to grab as much manure as I could find.

“She was never in love with your persona, assface.” Hunter swung his arm backward, like a baseball player, and caught me in the chest. I aimed my ball of shit to his face, striking a good portion of his neck and chin.

Now we were both in deep shit. Literally.

“Stalin had a more loveable character, you moron. She was always stupidly—and may I add unreasonably—in love with your ass!”

He threw another ball at me.

I threw one back at him.

“She owed a lot of money,” I yelled back. “I paid her debt. That’s why she married me.”

“I know!” Hunter laughed hysterically, deserting the manure and pouncing on me. He shoved me to the ground, twisting the lapels of my blazer as he pinned me down. “I know, because after the night Persy came to accept your offer in the blizzard, I knocked on her door. I knew I had to make it right. Not for her, or for you, but for my wife. I didn’t want anything to upset Sailor so early in the pregnancy. Persy told me about her debt. I offered to pay it in full and wrote a check right in front of her.”

I blinked at him, confused and disappointed with myself for wanting to hear the rest, blood thundering through my head.

“You wrote a check?” I growled. “Doesn’t your generation Venmo?”

He lowered his head to mine, his eyes burning with rage. “She tore the bitch up in front of my face and told me she was marrying your sorry ass. She wanted to marry you! Stipulations and assholery included. Now my question is this—how did you manage to lose her? How did you let the only girl you’ve ever loved just…go?”

“I don’t—”

“Of course you do!” He smashed my head against the dirt. I twisted, grabbing him by the shirt and rolling him over, switching our positions so I was on top of him now.

“You fool, anyone with a pair of working eyes could see you’re crazy about her. You couldn’t look Persephone in the eye like a six-year-old for as long as you’ve known her. You couldn’t bring yourself to attend her goddamn wedding. You’ve had it bad for her from the moment you saw her. You let her go because of your stupid insecurities. Because you are so convinced you’re Hades, doomed, dark, and unredeemable, you haven’t even bothered to read the myth all the way.”

He reached to wrap his fingers around my throat, pressing, draining the oxygen out of me.

“Persephone!” He clasped harder.

“Loved!” He shook me by the neck.

“Hades!”

“I don’t l-l-l-love her.” I heaved, plummeting into his face with my fists. Stuttering. Losing it.

Hunter smiled through the pain.

“Say it louder,” he whispered.

“I don’t lo-lo-lo dammit! Love her!” I punched him again. This time his jawline.

“Louder.”

“Are you an idiot?” I didn’t know why I asked this question. I was already well aware my brother possessed the intelligence of a turkey. A cum-stuffed one, for that matter. “I don’t love my wife.”

He punched me back, laughing. We rolled on the ground, hitting each other, yanking hair, poking eyes, cursing, and grunting like two cavemen.

Like two brothers.

I kept saying I didn’t love her, and Hunter kept cackling as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

I didn’t know how much time had passed, but when we were done, we both looked and smelled like horse shit.

Panting and sweating, we were covered in mud and manure head-to-toe.

Hunter was the first to stand and stomp back to his car.

“Apologize,” I demanded to his retreating back. He waved me off.

“Siblings don’t apologize. They just start acting nice to each other. Now, you ain’t driving anywhere after polishing off a bottle of vodka. Get your ass in my car. I’m throwing you in the shower and taking you to see your niece.”

I opened my mouth to say something. Even though he couldn’t see me, he still raised his palm in warning.

“Save it, bro. I don’t care. And if you’re worried about seeing your estranged wife at the hospital, don’t. By the time we get there, she’ll be at work. You didn’t even ask what my daughter’s name was.” He threw the driver’s door to his Audi open.

“What is it?”

Please don’t let it be Grinder or Nature Valley.

The smile that broke on his face threatened to crack it in two.

“Rooney.”

I drove to Andrew Arrowsmith’s house as soon as I kissed my new niece, Rooney, hello.

She was a pink ball with a head full of red hair just like her mother and blue eyes like her father. The lungs, she probably got from Michael Phelps. The kid could blow off the roof with her screams.

All in all, Rooney was one of the cutest babies I’d laid eyes on and a welcome addition to the family.

I’d appreciated how Sailor refrained from pointing out that I was a complete and utter piece of human garbage for what I did to her best friend. She accepted my congratulations with a lukewarm smile even though it was obvious I was responsible for the fact her husband had arrived back in her hospital room beaten up to a pulp and sporting two shiners.

A few hours later, I caught Andrew wobbling from his front door to a U-Haul truck with a cardboard box tucked under his arm. The dirty sweatpants and disheveled hair were a far cry from his usual pretty boy attire.

Parking behind the U-Haul and blocking his way, I slid out of my Aston Martin, my sunglasses and fresh suit hiding my less than pristine condition.

“Moving so fast, Arrowsmith? We haven’t even had a chance to have brunch.”

He dumped the cardboard box at his feet, groaning.

“I’m handing in my resignation tomorrow. I took some time off to move out, as you can see.” He motioned for the truck, implying that I was delaying his progress.

“Doesn’t work for me, I’m afraid,” I tsked, scanning the half-full truck. “You’ll hand in your resignation by the end of the workday and drop the lawsuit by three o’clock. If not, I will sue you for every single penny I’ve spent in legal fees since this bullshit started.”

His jaw dropped.

Yes, I cursed.

No, I wasn’t afraid for the truth coming out anymore.

I’d already lost the most valuable thing I had—my wife—and anyone else’s opinion of me didn’t matter. Least of all his.

“Why?” he asked, rearing his head back to squint at me. “Why would I do things your way? All your nasty wife has on me is a bad report from a social worker.”

The speed in which I pinned him to the truck by the throat made him gasp.

“Your mouth is not worthy of referring to my wife, let alone calling her nasty.”

Choking, he curled his fingers around my wrist, which was the width of his neck. Pissing me off was not his best idea this year. Unfortunately for him, he realized it a moment too late.

Andrew turned pink, then purple before I eased the pressure on his windpipe.