Page 60 of My Brother's Teammates

“You put us all at fucking risk, man!” Mateo’s yelling pretty loudly. “How could you have been so stupid? Harry was right there. Right fucking there, Jace!” He’s probably leaning over Jace, pointing a finger in his face.

Considering how pissed Jace was last night, I wouldn’t risk getting my finger bitten off if I was Teo.

I pause right outside the door, not wanting to miss a word of the exchange.

“So… what? I was supposed to just stand there and let him kiss her like that?”

Something low in my belly flickers to life at the reminder. Seeing him standing at the Plexi, ready to rip Alec’s head off his fucking shoulders, was hot as hell. Terrifying, sure, but also hot as hell.

I squeeze my thighs together as it all crashes back into me, heat lapping at my body at the memory. Having spent so long thinking Jace, at best, was disinterested, at worst, hated me, seeing his primal, savage reaction to Alec kissing me cemented what he said the other day. He doesn’t hate me, he’s never hated me.

I’m not sure what to do with that, but I don’t have time to unpack it standing and staring at the door, because after a beat of silence, Jace’s voice booms. “What the fuck did you say, Roman?”

“I said, we managed it just fucking fine. You didn’t see Teo hopping the bench and going fucking apeshit on the guy, did you? No. We kept our shit together just fine.”

For as long as Harrison has known the guys, he’s praised Roman’s ‘calm under fire’ personality. He’s generally the peacekeeper of the group, the quiet voice of reason, so to hear him damn near screaming at Jace makes my stomach clench.

This is all my fault.

They wouldn’t be fighting like this if it wasn’t for me.

And Harrison? Shit… My hand flies up to silence my gasp as I swallow a lump in my throat. Seeing his surly face on the jumbotron last night, the way he checked Jace on the ice, the coldness in his eyes as he skated away.

That’s on me, too. I ruined the one thing Harrison treasured most outside of Mom, Dad, and me.

Jace is like a fucking brother to him, and it’s my fault they’re broken.

Harrison’s been eerily quiet since the game, too. I figure he’s throwing hands on a heavy bag at the gym to work off his anger before coming to talk through his feelings. It’s generally his process. Take a beat, punch something, then regroup.

“Okay, hold up.” Mateo must feel the same way I do about Roman losing his cool twice in less than twenty-four hours, because his voice is oddly calm. “It’s no good, us screaming at each other like hot-headed teenagers, not least of all because Harrison lives down-fucking-stairs.”

I roll my lips to suppress a giggle. It’s so weird to hear Mateo of all people be the voice of reason—especially when he’s right.

“What we need…” He sounds like he’s straining under the effort of holding someone back. His teeth are gritted as he grinds the words out. “Hey, would you two… just… Ugh.”

After a long moment, he speaks again. “What we need is to come up with a plan for how to handle this Charlotte thing.”

Roman, I think, grunts.

“What we need, Einstein, is to figure out a plan for how to handle this Harrison thing.”

“Potayto, tomahto.” I can hear the crooked grin in Mateo’s voice.

“She needs to leave.”

My heart sinks as Roman says what we all know to be true. If I stay here, if I keep living here, I’ll tear them all apart more than I already have. I can’t be responsible for the dissolution of decades of friendship, I can’t.

“I’m taking her to fucking dinner.” I expect Mateo to start the conversation about who gets to do what with me, not Jace, but he’s flip-flopping back and forth. One minute he wants to handle Harry, and the next he’s throwing down statements about me.

“And if she wants to date either of us?” There’s a pause, like Mateo’s pointing at Roman. “Or even both?” Mateo grunts, like Jace shoved him, and I dare open the door just a crack to peek through. If they’re about to tear each other limb-from-limb, I might need to scream or something.

Roman’s sitting on the couch, his back against the armrest, facing away from Mateo and Jace. His arms are folded, and he’s pouting like an adorable toddler, his bottom lip poking out as he scowls.

Mateo has Jace pinned to the wall, his forearm across Jace’s chest, holding him in place. It shouldn’t be erotic, it shouldn’t be in any way hot. It shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop my nipples from standing to attention. All this talk of a Mateo-Roman combo has me thinking all kinds of combinations. Roman and Jace, Jace and Mateo, Jace, Mateo, and Roman.

Shit. I tug at my shirt. Is it getting hot in here?

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