Page 113 of My Brother's Teammates

And when Meghan’s “Fuck, yeah! Fuck them!” comes through the closed door, Harrison chuckles.

“I know you care, Charlotte.” Another squeeze of my hand. “You care about what everyone thinks, especially me.” He holds my stare. “But you should try to let that go a bit. Meghan’s right.” His voice drops when he says that last part. “Fuck ‘em.” He taps my chest. “What does your heart say?”

Staring at the jerseys on my knee, my stomach clenches. “I miss them, Harry. I really do.” The words block my throat as my fingers keep going around the letters on the fabric. “I didn’t want to leave them. I thought I had to… choose, between you and them, or that me being with them would force you to choose between me and them.”

He grabs me by the shoulders. “Charlotte.”

I blink at him.

“I may be an asshole sometimes.”

Meghan snorts.

“But you are always my number one priority. You hear me? Always. I might have lost my shit when I learned about your relationship, especially the way I did. But I wouldn’t make you choose, because why the fuck should you have to?” He has a point.

“So, you think I should go back?” I search his face. “You don’t think they’ve, like, moved on?” I pretend to pluck at lint on the pristine jersey so he doesn’t see the poorly hidden flames of envy in my eyes. “Maybe they’ve gone on dates with other women in the past week.” The words taste bitter on my tongue.

I have no right to be jealous, but I’d definitely be less than thrilled if they’ve gone out with other people in the past week.

“They’re too busy staring at their phones, waiting for their girlfriend to message, to do anything or go anywhere. It’s like a bad movie montage. You should check out the window to make sure Mateo isn’t out there with a boombox on his shoulder. Fucker can’t sing for shit.” He grins at me. “I need to fix some things with them so I’m going there next, but I wanted to let you know that if it’s what you want, you should go back to them.”

His words lift a weight that’s been compressing my body for weeks, and I can’t help the huge sigh of relief that comes out of me.

“You know how you’re going to make things right with them?”

He shrugs. “Threaten death if they hurt you is a good start.” He stands up, pointing to the bag. “There’s something in there for the spitfire in the bedroom, too.”

I pull out another Fournier shirt with his name and number on it. “You brought her kindling?”

He grins. “Peace offerings all around.” He doesn’t say anything else, but lingers like he wants to.

He hugs me, then leaves, and as I fold my jerseys and put them into my suitcase, the butterflies in my stomach riot at the thought that I’ll see my guys again soon.

And this time, hopefully I’ll never leave them again.

FORTY-ONE

Jace

Harrison: 2189 North Shady Lane. Meet me there at 1 p.m.

Mateo: Are we getting the band back together?

Mateo changed the name of the chat to Charlotte’s Boys.

Mateo changed Harrison’s nickname to Big Bad Brother.

Harrison: You’re already making me regret this.

Roman: Mateo. Chill.

Me: He just invited us to Shady Lane. There’s a chance he’s going to murder us.

Mateo: I think they only murder people on South Shady Lane. We should be fine.

Me: You’re ridiculous.

Mateo: Did you like the present I left on your pillow?

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