Page 62 of Finding Hope

“He’s not off the market! I’m not seeing him.”

“Right,” Laine jumps in. “But you fucked him in real life, which trumps any dream banging. Girl code means he’s ruined. He may as well wear a sign that says ‘Used by Britt. No other bitches allowed.’”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Shall we take a minute of silence for your vag?”

Laine nods. “I’d appreciate that. I mean, what’s the point of even living anymore?”

Ten silent seconds later – where I definitely think about Jack’s ruined penis and how it made me feel – I clap my hands before I start mourning a penis that felt pretty damn good.

“Good, we’re done. Now help me with Brad.”

Jess groans. “I’d rather not.”

The very next day, I find myself sitting in my living room with my feet up on the couch and an ice-cold beer clasped between my hands, watching my idiot brothers bicker over the TV like they’re ten again.

Alex wants to watch the fight channel.

Scotch wants to watch MTV.

I just want them both to shut the hell up and act their damn age.

Sitting in yoga pants and messy hair, I nurse my beer and silently wonderhowthey know Jack.

I don’t dare ask. I won’t ever bring it up, but I’m so ridiculously curious, it almost hurts.

Throwing a PlayStation remote at Scotch’s head, X snatches up the TV remote and flicks it back to the fights. “You don’t even live here, fucker. Get lost. I get one day off a year; I wanna watch this.”

“I don’t wanna watch this shit again,” he complains. “It’s lame, and it’s the same assholes fighting every time. How is it not rigged?”

“Then leave!” Alex dramatically waves toward the front door. “You have your own TV atyourplace. And the fights aren’t rigged.” X grins and runs his tongue along his teeth. “You know they can fight.”

“He cold-cocked me!”

“Yeah, and it was like, half a decade ago. It’s time to move on and stop lusting after a married chick.”

Come again?“What the hell are you two talking about?”

Scotch’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “I’m not lusting after her, dumbass. She’s cool. She’s my friend. Hell, she’s my boss half the time. But that doesn’t mean I have to like the asshole who cold-cocked me.”

Alex chuckles tauntingly. “He got you good, too, huh? Popped you right on the chin.”

Picking up the game controller, Scotch pegs it back at X. “You’re an asshole! You’remybrother, not theirs.”

“I’m on your side when they’re listening.” Alex shrugs casually. “I stood up for you more times than I can count. But behind closed doors, when the arrogant assholes can’t hear, I’m a serious fan. If I was a chick, I’d be fangirling all over the place.”

“That’s fucking gay, man. You’re lucky I don’t tell them.”

Alex barks out a laugh. “They’dneverin a million years believe you.”

“Who are you talking about?” I ask again.

Who is my oldest, biggest, most badass brother fangirling over?

“Kincaids,” Alex murmurs and turns the TV up.

“Assholes,” Scotch grumbles.

Jesus, if only my brothers knew I slept over and helped Jack babysit ten Kincaid children recently. “Wait, who cold-cocked you?”

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