Page 89 of Triple Play

My phone chimes. A text alert.

Brayden: where you at? I’m pulling up

Fuck.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Shira

When we get outside, someone’s sitting in an aggressively purple car on the narrow lane by the restaurant. This must be Brayden.

He jumps out of the driver’s seat. Whatever I expected—a world-weary version of Blake, maybe—doesn’t prepare me. Brayden isn’t a world-weary version of Blake: he’s almost an exact replica, right down to the perfect placement of his hair and the pasted-on smile. Are you twins? But no, Blake said Brayden was a few years younger. Still, no wonder they’re close.

Brayden also moves with a certain freneticism like he’s had too much caffeine. Only caffeine? Some of the girls I danced with used—and some of the customers definitely did. Those ones I always approached with a certain wariness: people surprise you, usually not in good ways.

Like how we just surprised Blake.

If I think about that too hard, I might actually cry. I don’t want to cry and I definitely don’t want to cry in front of Brayden. Especially when he struts over, grunts half a greeting toward Felix and Blake, then holds out the keys to me. “I assume these are for you.”

I shake my head. “Blake rented the car, so I guess he’s driving.” Also, hi, hello, how are you? Blake’s armored politeness might bother me sometimes, but Brayden’s abruptness is worse.

“Rented?” Brayden scoffs.

Next to me, Blake’s shoulders have gone stiff. “Brayden, this is Shira, my—” He stops before he says the word girlfriend. “And Felix Paquette. He’s also on the team.”

Not a teammate. Not a friend. Just two people Blake happens to be traveling with. I won’t let that hurt. Not when Blake is so clearly still angry. Deservedly.

“Well, tell your—” Brayden mimics cutting himself off like he noticed Blake doing the same, “that her new car handles smooth.”

I turn to Blake. “My car?”

Blake heaves a shrug, then motions to the purple Volvo in front of us. “Lilac II. Surprise.”

Oh no. “You bought me a car?”

“I was gonna when we got back to Boston, but this seemed like a good moment.”

My heart catches on the past tense. Blake, all of twenty-four hours ago, buying me a vehicle just in case. “Oh. Um. Thank you.” I should hug him, kiss him, if only because Brayden is eying us like he knows something’s going on. I settle for winding myself around Blake, tipping his chin down to meet mine. Whispering, “You can return the car, right?” as if it’s something romantic.

“Shira…” Blake draws my name out. I’ll miss the way he says it, inflected with sweetness. “The car’s yours. You should have something safe.” Safe. What I was with him. What I’m not any longer. Faint lines of tension radiate around Blake’s eyes. Even his imperfections are perfect and mine only make me a disaster.

“You shouldn’t—” My voice catches in my throat. “You don’t have to.”

He brushes a strand of hair back from my face. For a second, I think he’s going to press a kiss to my cheek or nose. Instead he just exhales like he’s tired. “It’s done—the title’s in your name. If you want to trade it in or sell it…”

As if I’m just trying to make a fast buck off him. “It’s not like that.” I probably say it too loud, because Brayden glances over with all the subtlety of a shark smelling blood in water.

“We can talk about this later,” Blake says.

That assumes we’re still talking at all. “Okay, sure.”

Blake steps back. “Let me just take a look through to make sure she’s road-ready.” And he accepts the keys from Brayden, then climbs into the driver’s seat to adjust the mirrors and check various settings. Or possibly to avoid having to speak with me or Felix, who takes his cue and starts loading our bags in the popped trunk.

I get about two seconds of peace before Brayden sidles up to me. “So you’re dating my brother, huh?” he asks.

Are we still dating? Nothing I want to say in front of Brayden. So I just say, “Yep,” and make sure to pop the p.

“Didn’t clock you as his type.”

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