by Rye Hart
But I couldn’t. Because the truth of the matter was that she wasn’t wrong.
About any of it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - HARPER
I was sliding omelet after omelet onto plates while my brothers trickled into the kitchen. Everyone came filing in one by one, picking up a plate with a loaded omelet before they started dipping up massive helpings of roasted potatoes. By the time I was done cooking, brewing endless amounts of coffee, and filling my plate, everyone was sitting at the table except Chance.
“Anyone know if Chance is awake?” I asked.
“His truck’s gone,” Owen said. “He’s probably in town.”
“His loss,” I said, shrugging.
“I don’t think Kyra’s gonna go back to her douchebag fiancé,” Rowan said.
“And here we go,” I said, sighing.
“She might,” Owen said. “They have a history.”
“A history bigger than ours?” Ethan asked. “Not a fucking chance in hell.”
“She deserves someone better,” Blake said. “Someone who’ll cherish her and protect her.”
“But does she realize her ex won’t give that to her?” I asked. “I mean, honestly, the situation’s fucked either way.”
“Harsh language from the hermit,” Ethan said, grinning. “Must be riled up.”
“Shut up, Ethan,” Owen said. “Continue, Harper.”
“If Kyra goes back to what’s-his-face—do we even know his name?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Blake said.
“Fuck. Okay. If she goes back to this douchenozzle, then none of us end up with her. But if she doesn’t—if she turns down this proposal or whatever—then what happens? Are the six of us gonna share her? Or is only one of us going to get our dream life with her?”
Owen was nodding along and I could tell I had everyone else’s attention. For the first time in years, the topic of conversation trumped the food that was sitting in front of all our faces.
And, of course, that topic of conversation would be the woman we were all secretly in love with.
“This entire situation is idiotic,” I said. “We can’t make her choose but if she does choose, then what about the rest of us? We’ve all felt her. Seen her. Been with her. Kissed her. Held her close. Can the five of us she doesn’t choose sit back and watch her be happy with the one she does choose? Get married? Start a family? Show up with her children to family holidays? We all feel strongly about her but could we really watch her spend the rest of her life with another brother?”
Owen shoved his plate to the middle of the table and got up out of his chair. He scowled over everyone, his anger apparent on his face as he marched out of the kitchen. I knew what I’d said had pissed him off, but it was the reality of the situation. It was obvious we had all been in love with her at one point and it was glaringly obvious that we were all in love with her now.
Ethan was shaking his head while Blake raked his hand through his hair. Rowan sighed and leaned back, bringing his coffee mug to his face while he silently chugged the caffeine he needed to process what I’d just said.
“Can I just say something really weird?” Rowan asked.
“When do you not?” I asked.
“Enough,” Blake said, groaning. “What is it, Rowan?”
“What if she didn’t have to choose just one of us?”
“The fuck does that mean?” Ethan asked. “You want us to share her or something?”
“Yeah,” Rowan said. “I mean, trust me. I know how crazy it sounds. But what boundaries do we really have left at this point? We all screwed her that night. Naked. In the same fucking room. What, at this point, wouldn’t we do for Kyra?”
“Share her?” Ethan said. “We can’t even fucking be around her without one of us busting in to ruin the moment. We’d have to draw so many fucking lines with her that she’d feel trapped.”
“I mean, it’s an idea,” Rowan said. “We’d all get her and we could all make her happy. And then we’d know she wouldn’t end up with a douchebag like Max.”
“His name is ‘Max’?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Rowan said. “‘Max sounds kind of douchebag-ish. And I’m tired of calling him her ‘fiancé.’ She doesn’t have a ring on her finger and she hasn’t agreed to the wedding. She doesn’t have a damn fiancé.”
“We’ll need to fill Chance in on all this shit,” I said.
“Why?” Ethan asked. “Just tell him what to do. It’s what he did in the military. Followed orders.”
“What the hell’s your problem with Chance?” Blake asked. “You’ve been on his ass more than usual. It’s gettin’ old.”
“Then turn your head when it happens,” Ethan said.
“I just don’t know when I’m gonna stop being the peacemaker between you two,” Blake said. “It’s getting old. You both need to grow the hell up.”
“Stopping is easy,” he said. “Just fucking stop. There. No more peacemaker. And if Chance didn’t walk around like he owned this damn family, we wouldn’t have an issue.”
“And if you stopped walkin’ around like everyone was supposed to give you attention like you got when you were a baby, then we’d all be less pissed at you all the time,” Blake said.
Minus the banter, Rowan had a point I hadn’t even considered. The idea of sharing Kyra between the six of us was mind-boggling but it did solve the issue of who would get to spend their lives with her. I had no idea how a family would work. Kyra always talked about having children of her own one day but those were one of the many things couples talked about and figured out as things went along.
We could make it work. Rowan and I just had to convince everyone else of that.
But before any of us could get a response in regarding what Rowan had said, we all heard Chance’s truck pull up. This was a conversation he needed to be a part of, whether Ethan liked it or not. A conversation that needed the input of the eldest brother. Ethan wouldn’t be okay with that, but that was only because he and Chance were practically the same person. The same hotheaded, dick-measuring, constantly-competitive idiot.
Just like Dad.
But the moment Chance’s truck inched closer to the house, I saw Ethan’s eyes narrow just as I looked out the window to clock what he was already staring at.
“Son of a bitch,” Ethan said.
“Ethan, no,” I said. “Come on. Take a breath.”
“What is it?” Blake asked as he looked out the window.
But I was already up and running after Ethan, who was headed for the front door.
Chance was up against his truck, pinning Kyra between it and his body. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss, one where her arms were strung around his waist while his hands cupped her cheeks. I could see the smile on Kyra’s face while they kissed and though there was an ounce of jealousy that made its way through my body, most of me was simply happy that one of us had patched things up with her. I stalked out the front door as I heard Rowan murmur “shit” behind me and Ethan hurtled outside like he was ready to beat Chance’s face in.
His fists were balled up at his sides, his strides were long, and, before I knew it, Rowan was beside me, stopping me in my tracks.
Blake pushed past me before I had a chance to get to Ethan. He grabbed Ethan’s shoulder and stopped him before he could reach Chance and Kyra, but Ethan was struggling against him. I tried to get away from Rowan so I could go help. The last thing Kyra needed was to see this display of anger and jealousy. It would ruin any chance I had of convincing the brothers—much less her—of Rowan’s insanely intriguing idea that just might solve all our issues.
Rowan finally let go of me and folded his arms across his chest. It was good that Owen had gone up to his room. Otherwise, we’d be fielding two very angry brothers while Chance sucked Kyra’s face off against his truck. It was easy to handle Ethan because he was strong but not muscular. He kept himself tailored just fine but he also enjoyed the slim physique he painstakingly kept up
over the years. Owen, on the other hand, was built like a brick fucking house. It would take Rowan and me just to get him to slow down, but it would take even more of us to turn him around and get him back into the house like Blake was doing with Ethan.
Chance whirled around just as Ethan was shoved back into the house and he was staring Ethan down before Blake walked over and grabbed Kyra’s arm. Chance tried to stop him but Blake only shot him a look and, for the first time in a long time, I saw Chance relent. Then, before we knew it, Blake was walking Kyra across the lawn and back to her house.
It was probably for the best but I knew Chance wasn’t gonna be happy with Blake when he got back.
“You think we should’ve intervened somehow?” I asked.
“No,” Rowan said. “Kyra needs her space, as does everyone else, honestly. The fact that Chance had some time with her that resulted in something like this means there’s hope. Kyra isn’t the kind of girl that would kiss Chance like that if she was actually considering her fiancé’s idiotic proposal, right?”
All I could do was shrug. This situation was so fucked up I didn’t even know what to do about it. And Kyra wasn’t the only one who had a lot of thinking to do. With the suggestion Rowan had thrown out over breakfast, my mind was whirling a million miles a minute. Could we all share her? Was that something that could work with hotheads like this in the family? If jealousy flared up like this over a fucking kiss, who was to say it wouldn’t rip the entire family apart trying something like that?
“I think what’s good for her right now is one of us at a time,” I said. “Look what it did for her and Chance. One at a time is what she can process positively, so that’s what we should give her.”
“You should come out of that room more often,” Rowan said. “You’ve got some good ideas.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - BLAKE
I held Kyra tightly by the arm, feeling her wrench against me as I pulled her away from Chance. I didn’t know what in the world Ethan and Chance were about to get into but it wasn’t something that Kyra needed to witness. She was under enough pressure from us, as well as her fiancé—or whoever the hell he was now—and the last thing she needed was something else she felt responsible for.
She’d been sent on an emotional rollercoaster and it was best if she just went home to have some space.
I wanted her to be able to breathe. I didn’t want her to watch two men I knew she cared for beat each other bloody over her. She wasn’t the type of woman that took that as a compliment and I knew it would sadden and confuse her more than she already was. We walked in silence all the way up her porch, her neck trying to crane back to take in the commotion behind us.
But the moment our feet hit her porch, I cupped her face with my hands and brought her eyes to mine.
“I have a gift for you,” I said.
That seemed to catch her attention long enough for all the guys to get into the house.
“You do?” she asked.
“I do. Would it be okay if I gave it to you somewhere a bit more… private?”
She nodded before she reached out, opening her front door. I dropped my hands from her cheeks, and we stepped inside, the warmth of her home encompassing us as I shut the door. I could hear the television going with a game on, which meant Mark was downstairs, and we both snaked around her home and found him reclined back in his seat with a beer in his hand.
“Hey, Blake,” Mark said.
“Hey, Mr. Lancaster,” I said. “Enjoying the playoffs?”
“Packers are shit this year,” he said. “Rodgers is out with a broken collarbone and Hundley can’t get his act together long enough.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t train your second string,” Kyra said. “That’s all on the coach. Whatever his name is.”
“Whatever his name is? Honey, the coach for the Packers is—”
“Mike McCarthy,” she said. “I know. They don’t deserve their names when they pull stupid shit like that.”
“The Broncos aren’t looking too hot this season, either,” I said.
“That’s because they just got the shit end of the stick with their draft picks this year,” Kyra said.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Mark said.
One thing about Kyra that always astounded me was how knowledgeable she was about football. It first came about when her mother died and she tried to find a way to bond with her father but, soon, she was just as obsessed as the rest of us. She’d cheer so hard for a team, the walls would shake and it was simply a joy to watch her become so passionate about something the rest of us enjoyed.
I admired that, among many other things, about her.
“I’ll come finish the game with you in a second,” Kyra said. “Blake’s gotta talk with me upstairs.”
Mark turned his face up toward Kyra before his eyes shot to me.
“Do I need my shotgun or something?” he asked, chuckling.
I put my hands up in surrender and swore I wouldn’t touch Kyra and all she did was blow a raspberry with her tongue at him.
She looked so adorable, I had to force myself not to stare.
We turned and left the room and I followed her upstairs. She took my hand and led me through the house I’d traipsed through so many other times. We found ourselves in her childhood room—a room we were all familiar with—and the moment she shut the door, I couldn’t help but feel aroused. I took deep breaths and I tried counting sheep. I tried thinking of my grandmother and I tried thinking of my brothers naked. But picturing them naked threw me back to that night and, suddenly, I could smell her scent and feel her grinding against my lap again.
Which didn’t help my situation at all.
I was alone with Kyra in her room and I could still remember the way she tasted. The way her tongue danced with mine in a sensual fury. The way she smelled, bouncing on my lap and coating me with her fluids. The way my cock swelled for her while her pussy swallowed me down time and time again.
I wanted to draw her into my arms and take her right here. I wanted to lay her out across the bed and draw her nipples between my lips. I wanted to spread her legs and taste her pussy and massage her luscious ass with the palms of my hands. But I didn’t want to rush her, so instead, I turned my attention back to the gift I had for her.
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a package. She sat on her bed and smiled and I went and sat next to her before I handed it to her. She turned it around in her fingers while her eyes lit up with excitement.
“How long have you been carrying this around?” she asked.
“I just needed to be ready at all times,” I said. “You know, for when that moment hit.”
I shrugged and she giggled while she cocked an eyebrow at me. All I could do was study her. She didn’t even understand how beautiful she was in the afternoon sunlight of this mountaintop our parents inhabited. I wanted to run my fingers through her hair and draw her lips into mine. I wanted to slowly plunge in and out of her depths and bring her to an orgasm that both rocked her world and settled her soul.
I could tell by her face she was studying me just as intently and she shook her head just as her cheeks blushed.
Her mind was thinking just what mine was and as she turned her gaze down toward the present between her fingers, I smiled.
“Oh geez,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry for somethin’ like that,” I said. “Ever.”
I watched in anticipation as she unwrapped the gift. She was careful not to rip the paper, which was something new I’d learned about her. I didn’t know she was the type of person to preserve paper like that and I reveled in this new little fact about her. It was just another thing that drew me to her. Another thing that made me adore her more than I already did.
But the surprised look on her face ripped me from my trance and a smile spread across my face.
“Blake, where in the world did you get this?” she asked.
“A
yard sale, if you can believe it,” I said.
“You found a first edition copy of Wuthering Heights at a yard sale?”
“Yep. The owner had no idea what he was gettin’ rid of.”
“Did you tell him?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m no saint, not when it comes to you,” I said.
Her cheeks flushed again but it didn’t look as if she had recoiled at my statement, which was progress from where we had been a few days ago.
Wuthering Heights was the book she’d made me read to her one summer in high school. She had friends that had read it and were telling her she needed to read it, but her parents wouldn’t let her. To this day, I still had no idea why, but she was petrified of checking it out anywhere. She didn’t want to leave any sort of trail for her parents to find that would suggest she’d gone against their wishes, so she coaxed me into getting a library card and checking it out myself. But then, she didn’t wanna take it home and it all spiraled from there. What started as a book she wanted to read but couldn’t had evolved into me reading it to her in a corner in the library every single day for an entire summer.
And it was the best hour of my day for those two and a half months.
“I’ve been savin’ it for months, honestly,” I said. “I wanted to mail it to you for your birthday but then I knew I couldn’t see your face. So I kept it for Christmas, just in case you came home. I wanted to see you open it.”
She smiled up at me before she leaned in to kiss me and my eyes closed as I braced myself for her warmth.
“Thank you,” she said, her lips traveling to my cheek.
But I moved my face at the last moment, capturing her lips with mine while we sat there on the edge of her childhood bed.
I expected her to tense and pull away. I expected her to use her father being downstairs as an excuse. Part of me even expected her to be angry and kick me out. But instead, her lips puckered back onto mine and her arms threw themselves around my neck. Suddenly, I was being pulled on top of her, her bed creaking underneath the weight of our bodies as her legs parted for me.
