I also have a hangover, which means … I squint at the mattress on the floor and find Em gripping his head.
“Ow.”
I grunt. “Me too. Thanks for that, asshole.”
“Right back at you.” He hugs a pillow to his face. “Answer your fucking phone!”
I grumble and reach for it, heart dropping when it’s not Harrison’s name on the screen. It’s Asher’s.
“Fuck.”
I answer immediately because unlike West, Asher will call until he gets through to us. And considering hockey season has started, the fact Asher’s calling means something is up.
“Who’s dead?” I groan into the phone.
“Your brother.”
I jerk upright. “Wait. Actually?”
“Not actually.” It’s like I can hear him rolling his eyes at me. “But he will be if he doesn’t answer West’s fucking calls.”
My gaze flicks toward Em and away again. “Ah, yeah. Rhys is so bad at that?—”
“You know I’m not talking about Rhys. Where’s Em? What’s going on?”
“Em … Em … Remind me again?—”
“Pretending not to know who he is. Cute. Also how I know you’re guilty.”
“Guilty of what?”
Asher grunts. “Covering for whatever reason he’s avoiding our calls.”
Fuck. I’m too hungover and mopey to deal with this today. “Now, are you sure you’re calling the right person?”
“I know how to press a contact in my phone, thanks.”
“I’m just saying, how do you know this is Ben? Maybe you’ve called Em.”
“Because Em doesn’t make my brain itch the way you do.”
I hum, wanting to wind this up. “Your brain is itchy? You’d think with Kole being a doctor, you’d avoid STDs. Though maybe it’s a BDD. Brain Dumbass Disease. I hear there’s no cure for that.”
“Delightful as always, Ben. I know you’ve seen Em. Now, get him to fucking call West before our brother starts having kittens.”
“But kittens are so cute,” I deadpan.
“This act isn’t. Serious talk, do we need to be worried?”
“About what?”
“About Em.” Good. He’s starting to get frustrated, which means he’ll hang up soon.
“Who. Is. Em?”
“Your idiot twin brother. Look in the mirror and quit playing this game.”
“Wait. I’m a twin?”