Page 72 of Messing With My Brother's Best Friends

“Sunflowers.” Connor nodded sharply. “That’s it. They’re very cheap.” He flicked through the options. “But we could get a few bunches. There’s these ones they call teddy bear sunflowers—”

“Not yet.” I drove up the street of the site we were currently working at.

“What?” Connor’s eyes locked with mine. “Yes, now. We need to make clear—”

“You’ll have her running with your over-the-top bullshit.” The van bumped over the muddy path that led to the site office. “Your heart’s in the right place, but you need to take it slow.”

“Don’t you think that was something we should’ve done before we all fucked her on the kitchen bench?”

I smirked and shook my head.

“It is, and we shouldn’t have rushed things then. Definitely not now.” But any amusement I might’ve felt at Connor slowly losing his shit evaporated as soon as I saw a familiar van pulled up outside the office.

Finn.

“But we did, and right now we need to stop Kendall scuttling out the front door because she’s feeling overwhelmed,” I said finally.

“I think she was feeling that this morning.” Everyone turned to stare at Van. “She was trying to sneak out when I was out getting the paper. I talked her down, managed to get her into the kitchen and not the van and on the way to work, but…” His eyes met mine. “Gage is right.”

“Fine.” Connor ground that out. “I’ll book them in to be delivered in a week. Things will have settled down by then.”

From his mouth to God’s ear, I thought idly, right as I saw the office door open. Finn looked tired and drawn, the stubble thick on his chin as his lips thinned.

“Fine,” I ground out, “but we’ve got bigger problems right now.”

Connor’s focus shifted, the flower order forgotten entirely as he took in our former business partner.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Only one way to find out.” I swung out of the van, jumping to the ground, then strode towards the fucker the minute I landed. “We talked about this, Finn—”

“Talked about what?” That same defensive bullshit I saw him pull with teachers, parents, Kendall, and even coaches was plain in his tone and expression. “Taking away my livelihood? Taking food out of the mouths of my children?”

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Van shook his head slowly.

“The conditions will be fair.” Connor was in his element right now, all business. “You’ll walk away with a nice chunk of money. You could pay off your house, or set up your own business—”

“Just like that.” Finn threw his arms wide. “All over nothing.”

“If you call your sister nothing again, the nice shiner you’re sporting will be nothing compared to what I do to you.”

My voice transformed, becoming a feral growl rather than a man’s, but I guess that tracked. I’d seen him minimise, bullshit, and generally skate past consequences too many times, but not now.

“You kept Kendall from us.” Van’s voice broke at that, but he forged on. “That’s not something you get past with a few beers. Take the fucking deal.”

“But—”

“Or I’ll collapse the entire business and start again.” Finn shut up then because what Connor was threatening was very real. The whole reason we’d been able to get the business off the ground in the first place was due to the fact that Mr. Woods had provided the seed money. Connor shook his head, smiling slightly. “I didn’t want to have to sack all the boys, leave them without a job or money to feed their kids, but…” He crossed his arms and squared his stance, making clear arguing would be futile. “The way things are now? They aren’t continuing, Finn, so don’t get in my face pissing and moaning about your children when…”

I knew what Connor wanted to say. Because we might have had our own kids by now. I’d never thought I wanted to have them, knowing that Kendall would always have my heart, but now… It wasn’t hard to imagine it: little feet slapping down on the pebblecrete around the pool, giggling right before they—

“You made this bed, now you get to lie in it,” Connor finished.

Finn was dismissed, we all knew it, so we went to move forward, to get on with our day. He even got out of the way as we climbed the steps into the office, but it was his voice, thin and weak, that had me pausing.

“So that’s it?” He stared at each one of us, mutely pleading for things to be different. “After all these years. I’ve said sorry.”

“No, you haven’t,” I told him.

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