Page 63 of Don't Say You're Sorry

He lifts his hands. “Hey, I’m not looking to break up any marriages. That’s not my thing.”

I raise a brow at him in the rearview.

He closes his eyes briefly, wincing at his choice of words. “I didn’t mean?—”

“I know what you meant,” I say, a sly smile touching my lips.

Confused, Adam asks his brother, “What are you two talking about? Why would you be interested in Nate? You’re straight.”

I snort before I can stop myself. Adam’s jaw drops, and I slap the backs of my fingers over my mouth, trying to smother the laugh.

“You fuckers,” Adam gasps. “Tell me.”

Amused, I shake my head, wondering if he knows anything at all about why Axel ran away from Hawthorne like a bat out of hell three years ago.

Axel glares at me. Just as he lifts his hand, about to smack me upside the head, Adam quickly turns to face him and snatches his wrist. “If you touch him while he’s driving, I’ll throw your ass out of this car and you can walk home.”

Axel lowers his hand and looks away. “Sorry,” he says, meaning it. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Eyes on the road, I touch Adam’s arm, and he turns back around. We’re quiet the rest of the way. My hand is on his lap again, and when his pinkie brushes mine, testing the waters, I stretch my fingers wide and lock them with his, holding his hand for the first time since we were eighteen. He holds his breath. After a few seconds, he lets it out slowly and relaxes back into the seat, looking more content than I’ve seen him since he came back.

When we get home, I’m forced to let go of him, and I hate it more than I’d like to admit.

Axel carries his own bags, looking up at the house as he follows me and Adam to the front door.

“You’re paying my share of the rent,” he mutters.

“Don’t have to,” I say. “Nate and Carter have it covered.”

“So the rest of us are freeloaders?”

“Pretty much.” I open the door wide and stretch out my arm dramatically, welcoming him inside.

Unimpressed, he walks past me and sets his bags next to the stairs. “What’s going on out there?” he asks, tipping his chin at the commotion in the backyard.

“Barbecue. It’s tradition,” I say, gesturing for him to follow. “Welcome home, freeloader.”

We walk through the kitchen and step outside. Axel looks around the yard, his gaze lingering on the mini basketball court to our right. Carter’s playing on his own, wearing just a pair of blue basketball shorts, his tanned, chiseled body covered in a thin layer of sweat, his dirty blond hair pushed back off his face. Breathing heavily, he turns his head to look this way, fumbling the ball before he rights himself.

Nate and Xavi are talking by the barbecue, their heads turning when they see us. Nate glares at me. I blow him a kiss.

“Axel, this is Nate,” Adam says. “His boyfriend, Xavi. Carter.” He points at Carter, who’s walking toward us. “He’s on the team?—”

“I know who he is. Who are they?” Axel tips his chin at the hot tub, where Frankie and her enemy with benefits are making out.

“The blonde one is Frankie. She lives here,” I tell Axel. “The girl on top of her is Zoey.”

“Are theyendgameor can I get in on that?”

“You can try.”

Carter opens his mouth to say something, but Axel’s already walking away, wiggling his brows at us over his shoulder. “Do you mind?” he asks as he helps himself to three beers from the cooler. Setting them down on the side of the hot tub next to the girls, he removes his shirt, shamelessly drops his jeans, and climbs into the tub in his boxers.

Frankie pulls her mouth away from Zoey’s and turns her head to look at Axel. He says something, and she eyes him for amoment before she and Zoey stick their arms out, accepting the beers he offers them.

Adam shakes his head and moves to grab a beer for himself. As I go to follow him, Carter snatches my forearm, his fingers digging in as he turns me to face him. There’s a wicked smirk on his face as he leans in close. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I lift my free hand to boop his nose. “I see you under there, you know?” I whisper. “How’s your own medicine taste, love?”

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