Page 93 of The Triple Play

“No, we just lied to her, Xav,” I laughed. “Yes, of course we do. You should tell her, too.”

He looked toward the door they’d gone behind, squinting again, his upper body swaying a little. There waszerochance of recollection for him tonight. “No,” he said. “Wanna be sober. Wanna remember.”

My chest ached a little at that. The fucker was adorable, I’d give him that.

Cole came out with her a minute later, lipstick on his cheek and mouth, Annie’s hair a mess, and I couldn’t help but laugh at them both as they tried to pretend like nothing had happened. And it hit me, then — how happy this made me. How stupidly, ridiculously happy I was, even now, even with Xavi almost blacking out and Cole smeared with Annie’s lipstick, the girl of my goddamn dreams split between the three of us.

I was happy. I feltwholefor the first time in years.

I just needed her to say it back.

Chapter33

Annie

The pen hovered over the page, just above a half-scribbled chorus I’d written and rewritten a dozen times. I’d finally found the rhythm again, or at least the beginning of it. My fingers itched to grab my guitar from beside me on the bed, wanting to play the melody one more time that hummed at the edges of my brain?—

The loud clatter of a saw cutting through something outside jarred the thought clean from my head.

I groaned in frustration, the vibration from it reverberating through the walls. “Storage shed,” I grumbled. “This place is fucking massive, why do we need more storage?”

The racket kept up like an industrial jackrabbit, pulling me from any solid idea I had. I kicked off the bed, yanked open the curtains, squinting against the bright midday sun. The crew of men in yellow vests were mostly packing up, a handful still drilling something into what I imagined was the back side of the tarp-covered structure they were working on.

Finally. At least the noise would stop.

I stomped down the hall once they’d gone, finding Cole and Xavi lounging on the couch, watching a replay of last night’s game. Cole had paused it on a zoomed-in shot of Xav, halfway through saying something about a failed deke, but Xavi was sprawled out sideways with his feet in Cole’s lap, his phone in hand, barely paying attention.

I stepped in front of the television. “Hey.”

Both of them stared at me, blinking.

“When is the construction out back going to be done?” I asked, my voice tight in irritation. “I’ve been trying to write for almost two weeks now, and I’ve barely managed more than a verse. I keep getting inspiration and then itdiesthe second a drill starts up.”

They glanced at each other, then back at me.

“We don’t need more storage,” I continued. “This house has, like, eight bedrooms, and two of them areempty.”

Xavi snorted. Cole covered his mouth with the remote.

“You’re laughing,” I said, narrowing my gaze at them. “Why are you laughing?”

Cole grinned and set the remote aside. “Well, weweregoing to wait until it was fully done, and Colton’s not home yet from his run, but I guess we can go ahead and tell you that it’s not a storage shed.”

What?

Xavi smirked and kicked his feet off Cole’s lap. “Did you really think we were building a whole-ass shed for Christmas lights and extra helmets?”

My brow furrowed as I stared between them. “It’s not a nursery, right? You two are smart enough to know we can’t put the babyoutside.”

Cole started full belly laughing as he pushed up off the sofa, coming up beside me and tucking my irritated frame into his chest. “No, darling. It’s not a nursery.”

“Shit, we should have done a nursery, too. That would have been cute,” Xavi said. I shot him a look.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Cole grinned, pulling me toward the back door.

“Wait! I want to see her face when we show her.” Xavi hopped up off the couch in an instant, running to the glass and pulling it open.

My suspicions flared as we stepped out into the midday sun, the rays harsh for this time of year, the wood of the back porch warm under my bare feet.

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