Page 112 of My Brother's Teammates

She gives me a stern don’t take any bullshit stare before she disappears, closing the door tight behind her.

“She’s such a peach.” He smiles, dropping a bag at his feet.

“I am a fucking peach!” Meghan yells from behind the closed door, as if to prove her point that she’s keeping tabs on him.

Harrison shakes his head and gestures to the couch. “Can we sit?”

A nervous giggle escapes me. “Harry, you’re being… weird. Formal. You’re freaking me out.” My stomach churns. What’s he going to say? You can’t see the guys anymore? We’re both done with them? And why the fuck do I care so much what he’s going to say?

We both sit, and he picks up my hand, spinning the ring on my thumb for a few seconds before he meets my eyes. “You need to come back.”

Of all the things I expected to come tumbling out his mouth, that was not it. “Wh-what?”

“Whaaat?” Meghan hollers from her very secret hiding place. “Carry on. I’ll shut up now.”

I shake my head, grateful for the beat of comedic relief to steady myself. “Come back? What do you mean, Harrison?”

He searches my face, a muscle twitching in his jaw like he’s trying to think of how to say whatever he’s saying. “They need you back.” He rubs his chin. “They’re all fucked up, wandering around like lost puppies. Their game is shit, their attitudes are shit, they’re…”

He pauses, heaving out another sigh. “They’re miserable, Peanut. My best friends are a dumpster fire, and the only thing that’s changed, the only thing that might be able to make it in any way better… is you.” The resignation in his voice tells me he wanted another solution. He’s still not completely on board with the idea that I’m in love with three of his best friends, but he’s also not throwing his hands up and saying ‘fuck y’all’ anymore either.

“I don’t need to be okay with it for it to be what’s right for the four of you.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s just new, it’ll take some getting used to, but even your emotionally stunted big brother can see the difference you made to those three.”

He shudders. “I swear, I never want to see you in your underwear around them again though. The less I know about what they do to you, and vice versa, the better.”

As much as I want the tea on what’s gone down between Meghan and Harrison, any potential sex they’ve had is off-limits, so I totally get that. “That’s fair.”

“And I might growl at them a bit for a while if they get handsy or affectionate around you. Just until they’re, y’know, completely terrified I’ll stab them in their sleep if they hurt you.”

There’s a thump on the bedroom door like Meghan’s dropped her head against it. “Fucking Neanderthal,” she mutters.

Harrison gives me a sad smile. “You’re always going to be my baby sister, Peanut. And my instinct is always going to be to protect you, even if you’ve grown into a brave, strong, capable woman who can handle her shit by herself.”

Direct hit to the feel box. My breath leaves my body as he punches me in the solar plexus with his statement of support. “Wow.”

“I’ve always got your back, though. Fuck those guys. I’m still number one.” He winks at me. “Speaking of numbers.” He reaches for the bag he plopped on the ground when he arrived. “I brought you something. Kind of a peace offering, kind of proof that I really am okay with you and the guys, even if I might cringe sometimes because you’re my sister. I’m not really sure, but I saw these at the rink and thought of you.”

He drops a heavy-as-fuck bag on my lap before pulling out three Phantoms jerseys.

There’s a white thirty-three jersey with Roman’s surname, Martinez, across the shoulders, and two purple jerseys. One has twenty-three and Mateo’s last name—Reed—on the back, and the other is Jace’s, number eighteen, with Theriot stitched on it.

“They’re not game-worn or anything.” He shrugs like he’s embarrassed. “They probably have some of their old game-worn jerseys in their closets, but they’re official and give you choices when you’re getting ready to come watch the games.”

I stare at the pile of Phantom shirts on our laps, not really sure what to say—or for that matter, what the hell I’m feeling. This is a huge deal for my brother, I know that much. But what does he mean with this? Because it looks to me like my brother might be on board with the fact that I want to be in a relationship with three of his best friends at the same time. That’s a pretty big fucking deal.

With these shirts, Harrison is telling me that everything’s going to be okay. It’s everything I could have wanted to come out of this situation. But the team has a strict fraternization policy. They don’t do fucking around, and they don’t do drama. Three players with one player’s sister? That's… salacious.

My face must fall because he nudges my knee. “What’s wrong, Peanut?”

My breath catches in my chest. “Harrison… this is very…” I shake my head, searching for words. “Public.”

He nods.

“I don’t know that I’ve seen a player’s family member wear anything but their player’s number.” My head’s shaking. What would people think? That I ditched my brother and prefer his friends?

“Won’t people think I abandoned you and am cheering harder for them than you?” My fingers trace around the stitched letters on the back of Jace’s jersey. I’ve wanted one of these since he kissed me in our teens, and now that I have it, I’m scared it’s going to end in disaster.

“Who cares what people think?” Harrison’s sharp voice makes me start.

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