Page 77 of My Brother's Teammates

“And you, sir?” He turns to me, and my mind blanks.

We’ve been here several times before, but I can’t remember what I like or what I don’t, and I hand over the menu, muttering, “Shrimp Creole,” because that’s the first thing that caught my eye.

“Excellent.” Lewis smiles, jotting everything down on his notepad. “That one’s my favorite. I’ll get those in and be back with some more water for you.”

He points to me, and I’m about to tell him I haven’t had any of my water when I look down to see my cup’s almost completely empty. What the fuck is happening?

Harrison eyes me from across the table, likely wondering what the hell is wrong with me, and I’d love to tell him not to worry, I’ve just had a stroke, not a big deal. It’d be better than anything else I can tell him right now.

He clicks his tongue, taking a slow sip of water as he continues to study me.

“You’re a lot of things, Jace Thoreau, but you've never been a shitty friend, and you've never been a liar. So let me ask you again, what’s going on between you and my sister?” Harrison’s voice is even, his expression neutral.

There’s not a single sign of anger on his face, and I think I’d rather him flip the table and start screaming at me. Harrison sitting across the table, his hands casually folded over each other, his demeanor calm as can be, is fucking with my mind.

I don’t know where I stand, what to do, and I sure as fuck don’t know how to respond.

So, like a coward, I nod, hating that I’m going to have to keep lying to him. He’s right, that’s not who I am, but I’m afraid that’s who I’m becoming. “We did run into your sister right after her breakup. She wasn't doing great, and with Meghan out of the country, she didn’t really have anyone to talk to, you know? So I sent her a text here and there to check up on her.”

The betrayal turns to ash in my mouth and dammit, it’s so hard to breathe, but if I start tugging the collar away from my neck, he’ll know I’m nervous. That is, if he doesn’t already.

“A text here and there.” He says slowly. “So that’s it?”

Maybe I know how good her pussy tastes, how it feels squeezing around my cock. But don’t worry, it’s all good. Mateo and Roman were there, too.

I’m so fucked.

Harrison works his jaw back and forth, his frown only deepening. Fuck. If I hadn’t overreacted to the kiss-cam at the game, I could have avoided all of this. I brought this on myself. On us. Then again, I fucked myself during dinner too.

As the enforcer and resident hothead, Harry is usually the one who drops his gloves on impulse, who loses control a little too easily. It seems I’m taking the role from him lately, and I don’t know how to rein myself in.

The more time that passes, the more his eyes narrow on me, and I try to take another sip of water—only to realize the cup is now empty.

There’s no way I can leave it like this. I need to give him something that explains my jealous outburst at the game.

“Oh, shit.” A guy about our age stops next to our table, swaying to one side and stumbling before swaying to the other side. “No way. You guys are the guys.”

I plaster a smile on my face and agree, we are guys, but other than that, I have no idea how to respond.

Harrison huffs a breath and flashes me a look that tells me in no uncertain terms he is super annoyed. His posture is stiff, and his nostrils are flaring. He’s a bull ready to charge at any moment. I need to figure this the hell out, otherwise, I’m going to tell Harrison the truth about everything so this conversation can end instead of getting drawn out for hours. I’ll never survive.

The drunk guy in front of me either doesn’t notice the tenseness, or maybe doesn’t care, because he leans over our table, looking dramatically between us. “Hockey. You guys play for the Phantoms.”

Again, I nod.

“I love you guys.” He takes a step toward me, his arms open wide, and thank God a friend of his grabs him before he can wrap me in what I can only imagine was going to be a bear hug. The friend shoots us an apologetic look, ushering his friend into the bathroom.

“Fuck. I don’t think we’ve been interrupted so many times at a damn restaurant before.” Harrison brings his fist down to the table with a thud—not a full slam, that would only bring more unwanted attention. He huffs a breath, exhaling loudly, his eyes narrowing to glare at me again. “You were saying? Just a few texts here and there?”

My chest squeezes, and my heart pounds so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if it exploded through my rib cage and landed on the table.

“I like her, Harrison.” There. That’s the most honest thing I’ve said to him since we found her naked, bent over her luggage.

“What do you mean, you like her? Are we back in high school?”

And this is where I should tell him that I kissed her back then too, but I keep my lips clamped shut, even though it’s right there on the tip of my tongue. I know once that trickles out, everything else will follow. It’ll be a relief not to have to lie anymore, to sneak around. The burden would be lifted from my shoulders, and then everything would come crashing down as Harrison turns Hulk Smash and demolishes our lives.

“Just what I said, I like Charlotte.”

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