Page 149 of Five Brothers

“Thank you.” I take the bowl of chili and grab a plastic spoon, giving Mrs. Chadwick one last smile before walking away.

This is my favorite part of the Annual Bug Jam. The chili cook-off. There are at least a dozen tents filled with the scent of spices, some of the booths belonging to families with their secret recipes, and some businesses trying to connect with the community. The cotton candy booth is next. They have twenty-one flavors.

I stroll, seeing Dallas still sitting on his bike out in the parking lot, three women standing around him. I shake my head. Dude doesn’t even have to get up to get what he wants.

Trace has Dex on his shoulders, and I don’t see Army right now, but he mentioned wanting to go look at the cars on display.

I’m going back on Dallas’s motorcycle, though. That was fun. He was trying so hard to scare me, but I didn’t mind, because hewouldn’t purposely hurt himself just to hurt me. Like he wouldn’t deliberately crash the bike with us both on it.

But I hesitate, chewing on that thought for a second.

“Look at them, huh?”

I pop my head up, seeing Jerome Watson. My face falls. It didn’t even occur to me I’d see him today.

He half sits on the edge of his chili booth’s table, looking different in jeans. His flannel is tan, blue, and green, making him look more handsome than I like. A white apron is tied around his slim waist.

“There’s something admirable about how they’ve held on to the land this long.”

He doesn’t look at me, and I turn my head, following his gaze. Trace and Dex dance with Liv and Clay. Aracely gets in Dallas’s face, while he smokes another cigarette and is clearly trying not to laugh.

“I like survivors,” Jerome tells me. “No one can say the Jaegers aren’t resilient.”

I look back at him, the heat from the chili seeping through the bowl to my hand.

“But every year is the same for them, isn’t it?” he asks me. “Nothing changes. The battles, the turmoil, the same faces, the same bullshit, the same dirt roads and dilapidated houses … Things live in the Bay; nothing grows.”

I lock my jaw, breathing heavier. That’s not true. Jerome stands up, and I don’t back up as he slowly closes the distance between us.

He lowers his voice. “What will you do when you tire of their bodies and realize you didn’t know you’d miss having possibilities in life? Hmm?” He stares down at me. “A beautiful home? Being able to send your children to college and give them a future? Maybe opening your own business?” He cocks his head. “A children’s boutique,” he finally says. “I can see you running something like that. It’s cute, like you.”

I start to back away, but he grabs my hand and puts it on his chest.

“And I have a body, too,” he whispers.

I don’t have a chance to rip my hand away before someone takes it away from him and encloses me in his arms. I tense but look down and see the Tryst Six emblem on a leather bracelet. He locks me against his chest, his jaw resting against my head.

I relax.Army.

Jerome looks at him over my head, and I see people out of the corner of my eyes, taking notice of all of us.

“It’s good to see you,” Jerome tells him. “Been a long time.”

Heather Lynch and A. K. Weathers stare at me, holding their frozen lemonades. They must be back from Florida State for the holiday.

“I don’t know why”—Jerome grins—“but I’m lamenting all the times we made each other bleed in high school.”

High school? Army would’ve been like fifteen when Jerome was eighteen.

“That was good times,” Jerome goes on. “But a woman is one thing we still haven’t fought over.”

Jerome’s eyes drop to me as he steps up. Army’s arms barely move, but I feel the slight tightening of the muscles around me. Jerome’s gaze rises to his, his expression stern and void of emotion. “I once promised you I’d have everything that was yours,” he tells Army. “I will.”

I clutch Army’s wrist, feeling the bracelet under my hand.

“You won’t” comes the strong, deep voice behind me.

But it’s not Army.

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