Page 53 of Brutal Game

I swallowed. “I’m worried that I might push her too far, and lose her.”

Judah raised an eyebrow. “Worried youmightpush her too far? What do you think you just did? A different woman—she would’ve broken in ways even you can’t repair.”

With those chilling words, both twins stood, Judah fixing his man bun and turning off the TV before they both left the room.

I turned to Isaac.

“You’ve been a quiet bastard,” I noted.

Isaac sighed. “I never should’ve told you about that.”

“Well?”

“I saw you, Jack. You insisted on going to The Stacks that night, you followed her even though I told you not to. I know what you were doing that night when you embarrassed the shit out of her. It wasn’t ‘cumdumpster’ that was important, was it? It was the modifier. ‘My.’”

I was surrounded by too many insightful assholes. “We never should’ve let you major in English.”

“Hey, the English majors are the best fucks,” Isaac smirked, then sobered. “If she’s yours, then treat her likeshe’s yours. It doesn’t matter what she did or planned on doing to us. I know Coach means everything to you, but come on, Jack. That poor girl doesn’t deserve this.”

Fuck. He was right.

He held out his fist, and I fisted my own hand, tapping it against his.

“I need some sleep,” he said. “And probably to rub one out. Because Judah is right. Even though that was a shit show, it was still hot as hell.”

“Don’t you dare fantasize about her,” I growled.

He shook his head. “This is what we mean.”

With that, he left me with my thoughts.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I told Siri to call Micah.

After two rings, my brother answered—on FaceTime, because he was a dick like that. It was dark, and he must have been asleep—it was late.

Even in the dark, the asshole looked good. Married life suited him—or whatever approximated married life when you were in a permanent relationship with three other people. His dark blonde hair had grown out a bit. And although his eyes were as astute and working as hard as ever, his face seemed more relaxed somehow.

Happier.

Fucking crazy that anyone who’d grown up in a home like ours could behappy.

“Yacob, what’s going on?” he asked me, his voice scratchy with sleep.

I stiffened.

“It’s Jack,” I reminded him.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had to remind him, and Micah never forgot shit. He did it on purpose. Why, I wasn’t sure.

His voice cleared. “Jack. Right, sorry. What’s going on?”

“Talk to me about Kara.”

His tone went hard. Protective. “What about her?”

“There’s no threat,” I reassured him.

He visibly relaxed. “What about Kara?”

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