Page 49 of My Brother's Teammates

Charlotte straightens her legs, flopping her arms out to the side. “I think you killed me.”

I chuckle, running my tongue along my bottom lip and relishing her taste. “Nah, I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

“Jace…” She sits up, her blue eyes slightly haunted, and my chest tightens. “We need to talk. All of us.”

“I know.” Dammit. I shouldn’t have crossed the line with her. I should have kept my distance. That little taste and now I want all of her. It’s better for the both of us if I lock myself in my room until the guys get home.

A throat clears behind me. “I’d say we’d all benefit from a little open communication.”

Roman stops beside me, Mateo on his heels, and Charlotte squeaks, her eyes widening as she covers herself with a blanket, tossing the dildo into the air in the process. The poor multicolored toy hits the wall with a thud and flops to the floor.

Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth as she watches us, her gazed flitting rapidly between Roman, Mateo, and me. No doubt she’s worried one or all of us is angry, hurt, or confused. Usually that would be my reaction, but we all like her, and I know she’s into each one of us. I’m not delusional. And the way they’re looking at her… well, I’d say she has them wrapped around her pinkie.

There’s no way I can get them under control when I can’t even manage myself.

“Looks like we’re all breaking the rules.” Mateo comes up to my other side. “Although I’d say Roman and I stepped over the line, while you hurdled that bitch like you were running track.”

“Fuck off.” I give him a light shove before nodding to Charlotte. “Do you want to get dressed, we can order some dinner, and talk?”

“You guys aren’t mad?” She pulls the blanket up to her chin.

We share a look, understanding passing between us. There’s no jealousy. No bullshit. They want her, and I can’t have her. End of story.

We collectively shake our heads. “Nope.”

NINETEEN

Charlotte

We were supposed to talk.

But—fortunately for me—Harrison called some kind of team meeting, or intervention, that the boys couldn’t miss. So three unhappy hockey players had to haul ass to the arena last night, and I was coincidentally asleep by the time they got back.

I need to talk with them.

All of them.

But I don’t even know where to start. Avoiding them is only going to work for so long, because they need to talk to me, too.

I don’t even know how I feel. Do I want something with just one of them? A ‘normal’ relationship? Is that even possible? How do I pick? And who?

So many questions churn around my mind as thoughts of a Mateo and Roman sandwich make my skin heat, but Jace… Can I walk away from him to be in a trio? A… throuple?

My phone vibrates, dragging my thoughts from multi-partner relationships, to the reason I escaped the face-to-face confrontation with my secret roomies last night.

Harrison: Hey, I have a super-nice friend who wants to go to his first game tomorrow night. I’m going to give him my other guest ticket, so he’ll be sitting next to you.

Harrison: You want to come over later tonight to meet him beforehand?

Harrison: Super casual, just the four of us. Snacks, board games, the usual.

Harrison: If you feel like it.

Harrison: It would be nice to see you.

Harrison: For me?

Harrison: Puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeease?

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