Page 106 of My Brother's Teammates

“You here to see me?” The question hangs heavy between us.

Guess I can’t blame him for thinking I might be there to see someone else.

He tilts his head.

I nod. “Yeah. I think we should talk.”

With one hand, he picks up his bag and slings it over his shoulder, and with the other, he puts his hand on my lower back, guiding me to his Lamborghini.

How he fits himself, his kit bag, and his ego in that thing is anyone’s guess.

He tosses his bag on the backseat, closes the door, and turns to me. I shiver, despite the fact it’s New Orleans and cold isn’t a word we use very often here.

I can’t look him in the eye, I can’t. My body trembles, my words get stuck in my chest, and I’ve chewed my lip so much the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth.

“Peanut.”

One word soothes the sickness in my stomach and brings my eyes to his. He’s not angry. His tone isn’t sharp or aggressive, he didn’t snap my full name at me, and when I meet his stare, concern swims in his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, but pulls me into another bear hug as he leans against his precious car. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

The more he talks, the more I cry, because I’m not sure we can figure this out. My heart belongs to three of his teammates, and if he’s not okay with that, I might not survive.

“You’re snotting on my shirt, Peanut.” He chuckles as I cling to him, pressing my face into his dress shirt. “Come on.” He pulls me back to look at me. “Talk to me.”

“I c-c-can’t.”

He squeezes me harder, like the more he holds me, the more likely the splintered shards of me might stick back together. “You can always talk to me about anything.”

I shake my head. Years of fear of disappointing him, years of actually disappointing him, and the fight from only a few days ago are keeping me from trusting what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry.”

I freeze.

“I didn’t handle it well at all. I walked in, saw my little sister damn near naked with my best friends, and I lost my shit.” He holds me tighter. “I don’t know how I should have handled it.” He shakes his head, brushing his chin in my hair as he does. “But I know that wasn’t it. I promise I’m calm, I’m not going to lose my shit, and I’d certainly never hurt you.”

He pushes me back again, his intense stare searing into me. “I’d never hurt you, Charlotte. I know I hit Jace.”

“And Teo.”

He winces. “And Mateo, but I’d never hit you.”

I nod. He wouldn’t.

He scratches the back of his neck with his palm before scrubbing his face. “I can’t pretend I understand it.” He searches my face. “And I’m not judging.” He cringes. “I’m trying to not judge. I might’ve said… something I didn’t mean when I was angry at the guys.” He holds his hands up, palms facing me. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it. Not about you. Not about them. I just…” He shakes his head. “It’s a big change.”

It’s a big change for me too, so I nod.

“Can we go somewhere that isn’t here and talk?” He looks around. No one has bothered us, or even come near us, but it’s a game night, and that probably won’t last.

Twenty minutes and an awkwardly quiet car ride later, we’re hidden away in the back booth of our favorite diner. Sally—the waitress who’s been serving us since we came in here as kids with our parents—shuffles over toward the table.

Harrison leans across the table to whisper, “Ten bucks says her back’s playing up.”

“Fifteen says it’s the weather making her bones hurt.”

He grins at me before turning his easy smile at the server. “Sally, how are you?”

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