Page 60 of This

“You could come in the normal way, and we’ll just be quiet.” I wait for him to lock the door before we head for the main building.

He walks down the path behind me, slipping his arms around me and holding me against him. “Normal. Quiet. No part of that sentence sounds fun.”

I laugh, and he sighs into my hair.

“I love that sound.”

That sound cuts off when the outline of the person coming toward us slows. The posts lining the path emit enough light I recognize the shape. Bentley is alone. No brothers. No aunts or uncles to put on an act for. And his hand is running up and down his jaw.

“Shit,” I mutter, straightening up.

Given the way Dane’s hold on me tightens, he knows who it is too. He spotted Bentley with his brothers during the rehearsal, and we shared a look. His eyes asked, and mine answered, but neither of us said anything.

Bentley stops in front of us, taking up the center of the path. It makes him the gatekeeper, an interaction with him required to pass. “Hey, Lex.”

“Where are the others?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Around.” He’s far less interested in what I have to say than he is with the person behind me. “You forgot to introduce me earlier.”

“Forgetisn’t the right word,” I say, but then I act like a civil human being despite my better judgment. “Dane, this is Keaton’s cousin, Bentley.”

I glance over my shoulder, but Dane’s locked in on Bentley. When I look back at Bentley, he’s widened his stance. The two show down, no words, just hard stares and clenched jaws.

“Keaton’s waiting,” I say, my hand finding Dane’s.

Bentley’s eyes drop to them, then shoot back to mine as I start walking again. I step off into the recently watered grass to avoid going any closer to our roadblock, but Dane doesn’t bend, walking straight on. His shoulder bumps Bentley’s. I think it will set him off, the night erupting into flying fists. Bentley sidesteps, though, offering Dane all the room he wants to pass.

It shouldn’t be so easy. I know this, and yet I relax when Dane pulls me against his side. He presses a kiss to the side of my head, calmer than I expected him to be. At least, he is until the strike I should have been expecting.

“What,” Bentley says from behind us, “no kiss goodbye this time?”

Dane’s arm drops from my waist as he turns. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Dane.” I grab his hand again, but he’s not listening.

He jerks away from me, already stalking toward Bentley. “You want to try that again?”

Dane stops with only an inch between them. Bentley’s slightly shorter, but he tips his chin up to make up the difference, a cocky grin in place.

I’ve broken up plenty of fights between the brothers over the years. With them, they still needed to put up with one another at the end, so after a few hits, they would stop with or without interference. But when I reach Dane and Bentley, I realize it won’t end with back slaps and splitting a six-pack.

“My girl—”

“Not your girl,” Dane says. “Not at Christmas and sure as hell not now.”

Bentley’s eyes dart to me as I latch on to Dane’s arm, urging him to take a step back. He looks surprised I told Dane about his asshole move, like I would have wanted to keep the moment for myself, and a hint of torment clouds his eyes. Hurt with Bentley means he lashes out, and when his gaze shifts back to Dane, I notice the fist clenched at his side.

The next few seconds give me mental whiplash. Bentley draws his arm back, and Dane pushes me out of the way, and then all three of them are on the ground even though there should only be two. The extra body belongs to Ford, throwing himself in the mix out of nowhere. He tries to separate them without much luck. Then Lincoln is behind me, gripping my shoulders to drag me away from the mess of punches, while Chevy yanks his oldest brother up by the shirt collar and ducks one last swing.

“You done?” he yells, shoving him backward.

Bentley swipes the back of his hand over the blood dripping off his lip and holds out the other palm in submission but keeps his attention chained to Dane, helping Ford off the ground. Fighting out of Lincoln’s hold, I run to them and throw myself at Dane. He has a red lump on his cheek. Nowhere near as obvious as Ford’s already-swelling eye. Still, he checks me over like I was the one in the middle of the brawl.

I look back for Chevy, but my gaze meets Bentley’s. It holds until he smirks, and I fucking lose it. I tear away from Dane to unleash every ounce of aggravation I’ve bottled up toward him. Less than a step and I leave the ground, over Dane’s shoulder and being hauled away.

“Good call,” Lincoln says as we pass.

While I agree that it would have ended badly, I kick at him to prove the point not to fuck with me in the future.

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