Page 175 of Unravel Me

Even over this last week, in all my anger, confusion, in all my fuckinghurt, I’ve never had a need to want for anything more than I have. Everyone I need to get through this shitstorm has stood firmly by my side, reminding me that, whatever the outcome, I don’t have to do it alone.

Rosie hasn’t had that, not until now, and I know this family is going to give her everything she’s been missing.

“Hey.” Carter nudges my side, offering me a beer, inclining with his head toward his patio door. “Let’s head outside for a bit.”

I leave Rosie with a kiss and follow the rest of the boys outside, taking a seat around the small fire Carter’s tending to.

He holds up a bag of marshmallows and a package each of candy cane and gingerbread Oreos. “Christmas s’mores?”

“Oooh.” Garrett rubs his belly. “I could fuck with those.”

“How you feeling?” Emmett asks me as we roast marshmallows.

“Better than I was two days ago. Cara’s advice was right, I think. Threatening to sue, to serve Courtney in public like that.” There were so many eyes on us, watching. Normally, I do everything in my power to avoid the media. They’re bloodthirsty and ruthless, which is the only reason anybody with a brain would spread that bullshit story about Rosie being my mistress and Connor being our secret baby.

I’m not sure Courtney even realizes the mistake she made yesterday. She thought she had me pegged as the same nice guy who let her walk all over him all those years. The lawsuit shocked her, and in her haste to grasp at any straw, she tripped over her own lie and admitted that I wasn’t Connor’s biological father.

Now I can only hope that, somehow, word spreads.

“I won’t tell Cara you said she was right. She’s almost never wrong. In fact, she keeps track of every day that goes by where she’snotwrong. Her current streak is one hundred and forty-seven.” Emmett runs an exhausted palm over his face. “I should know. It’s written on my bathroom mirror in pink lipstick.”

I chuckle, sipping at my beer as the fire toasts my marshmallow. “I need to see her walk out of this city and never, ever come back. This chapter of my life needs to end, and I don’t feel like I can truly put it behind me until she’s gone for good.”

Carter raises his beer. “To killing off Courtney.” He looks around at our blank faces, our beers still in our laps. “What? Is that not what we’re…yeah, no, obviously what I meant was…to gently…guiding…Courtney…out of this city. Obviously. Obviously, that’s what I meant.”

His eyes slide to Garrett, and then roll. “And I guess to Garrett and Jennie, so lucky to have you as a brother, can’t wait for you to marry my sister, I know you’ll make her happy, blah blah blah, I love you.”

“You just said you love me,” Garrett whispers.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Carter just said he loves Garreeett,” I sing.

“Carter loves Garrett, Carter loves Garrett,” Jaxon adds.

Carter smooshes a roasted marshmallow between an Oreo. “Whatever. Real men love their friends. I read somewhere that there’s a direct correlation between how much love a man shows other men and the size of his cock.”

“Ah,” Emmett hums. “That explains your pocket rocket.”

Carter stills, his gaze slowly rising to meet Emmett’s. “Excuse me?”

“Your tiny dick. That explains it.”

Carter rises from his chair. “Excuse. The fuck. Out. Of me.”

“Everyone knows Adam is the biggest,” Garrett adds, and I shrug but also nod, because, yeah.

“You son of a bitch. I just welcomed you to my family.” He leans closer, trying and failing to whisper. “I told you I love you, and this is how you repay me?”

“There’s only one way to know for sure.” Jaxon stands, reaching for his belt buckle.

“There are children here,” I rush out. “We’re not whipping our dicks out.”

“Of course not.” He walks to the snow-covered grass and turns his back on us, the sound of his zipper echoing through the frigid Christmas Eve air. He smiles at us over his shoulder, and then spreads his arms wide, face-planting in the snow.

“Ooou, fuck!” He scrambles to his feet, jumping back and forth as he tucks himself away. Then, with a grin, he points at the snow, some sort of distorted snow angel, and, uh…a perfectly shaped imprint of his cock. “Beat that, fuckers.”

“No. No way.”

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