Page 54 of Pucking Curves

Micah jerks his chin in a nod as we jog outside to wait for the van meant to take us to the presser. I drop onto a cement bench on wooden legs, my mind racing.

I’m a little surprised when Micah drops down beside me, murmuring quietly to Elodie. Judging by the looks Logan and Jordan shoot us as they file outside, they’re surprised to find us sitting together, too.

“She’s going to run by and check on her,” Micah murmurs, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Did you two argue or something before you left?”

“No,” I growl. “Everything between us was perfect.” I shoot a hard glare at him. “The only goddamn thing she’s been upset about is you acting like an overbearing asshole.”

He has the grace to look regretful. At least momentarily. And then he grits his teeth. “Wouldn’t be an overbearing asshole if you weren’t fucking my sister behind my back and lying about it to my goddamn face, Graves.”

“I never touched your sister until Vegas.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I fucking knew something was up with the two of you when we got home and you were falling all over yourself to take her home.”

“Then why’d you let me take her?”

“Because I trusted you to keep your hands to yourself.” His lips twist. “Joke’s on me, right?”

“I kept my hands off her for a fucking year, Micah. Right up until we got m–” I break off, biting my tongue.

“Until what?” he asks.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit. What were you going to say? Right up until you got what? Don’t bitch out now.”

“Married,” I growl, staring at him. “Is that what you want to hear? That I fucking married her?”

“You’re lying,” he says, doubt written all over his face.

“No, I’m not. That’s the thing, Micah. I didn’t tell you everything, but I never fucking lied to you about her,” I say, my voice heated. “Before Vegas, I kept my mouth shut. I refused to say anything. I tried like hell to keep my distance so I didn’t feel like an asshole every time I looked at you, but I didn’t fucking lie to you.”

“You motherfucker,” he breathes half a second before he launches himself at me. We crash to the ground with him on top of me. “You fucking married her without telling me?”

“Goddammit, Micah,” I growl, trying to shove him off me.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t hit me, either. He just keeps me pinned to the ground beneath him, his hands wrapped around my suit jacket like that’s the only thing keeping him from taking a swing.

“Fuck!” Jordan shouts before him and Logan come running, trying to haul him off me.

“Micah, man. Let him up,” Logan says, prying at his hands. “If Coach sees this shit, he’ll hand both of you your asses, and you know it.”

“He’s right,” Jordan adds, hooking an arm around his waist. “Get the fuck off of him, Micah. You don’t want to go down this road.”

Micah doesn’t even budge. “You fucking married her. When, you asshole?”

I know damn well that he’s going to hit me when I answer that question. But I answer it anyway. Like I told him, I don’t lie to him. Not even when I probably should. “Vegas.”

His fist plows into my jaw with the force of a goddamn wrecking ball, snapping my head back. It hurts like a motherfucker, but I don’t retaliate. It’s not like I didn’t earn that shit. In his shoes, I’d hit me too.

“Goddammit,” Jordan growls, finally hauling him off me.

Micah tries to lunge for me again, but Logan steps between us, blocking his path. He holds out a hand to help me up. I wave him off, sitting up on my own before climbing to my feet. My fucking jaw hurts like hell.

“You married her while she was drunk in Vegas, you asshole!” Micah roars. “Did she even know what the fuck was going on?”

Logan mutters a curse. “I know damn well that I’m going to regret this shit,” he sighs to himself before glancing over his shoulder at Micah. “She wasn’t that drunk, Micah.”

“How would you know?”

---