Page 20
“I would have, but I don’t want to miss this,” Zane saunters in, pocketing his keys.
“What kiss?” Ian asks, closing the door behind them and waving to our brother on the screen like a doofus.
Jesse waves back, sighing.
If any of the Bennets can keep a secret, it’s Jesse. But at the end of the day, he’s still a Bennet. So, I blow a kiss and slam my laptop shut.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, turning to my brothers who are taking up far too much of my living room space. Ian has Eleanor on his chest, making goo-goo baby noises at her, and Zane is watching me with a gleam in his eyes.
“Why are you already in your muumuu and bonnet, Emery? We’re leaving. The Uber will be here in less than ten minutes.”
“What are you talking about, Z? I’m not going anywhere.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, you’re going. It’s bar night, my pick. Warren is already on his way there. I didn’t complain when that twink was dry humping my leg last weekend, you don’t get to complain now.”
How is it Friday already?
I groan, tossing my bonnet at Zane’s face on my way to change.
“I want my key back,” I call over my shoulder.
“No. And wipe the frosting off your chin.”
McAllister’s is one of the three bars in town. Zane always picks this one, for whatever asinine reason, he likes it. Likes the dinged-up bar tops, stained pool tables, and the air that smells like it still holds the ghosts of all the thousands of smoked cigarettes from the 90s.
It’s also just down the street from the fire station Zane works at, and even I’m not bitchy enough to try to say Griffin, the owner, doesn’t make a mean chili. I groan, chewing my last bite, and push the bowl away from me.
“See? And you were being a little bitch about coming out,” Zane teases from his barstool next to mine, and snorts into his glass of IPA or whatever whack shit he’s drinking when I elbow him in the side.
“I thought you said War was coming?” I tap my nails on the bar top, murmuring a thanks to the bartender, Ellis, when he walks by and takes my empty bowl. “He better show up. I have things I would like to discuss with him.”
“Give it up, Em. He’s not going to spill his secrets,” Zane says.
“Or maybe there is no secret?” Ian chimes in from my other side, angling his big body so he can speak to both of us. “Maybe he and Morgan just called it off.”
I bark an incredulous laugh. “Please. That would never happen.”
Zane sets his glass down on the bar and leans forward. “Maybe Morgan got tired of him fighting on the weekends? Though, I don’t think he’s done that in a while...”
Ian makes a face like he’s considering, then holds up a finger. “Or maybe she was done dealing with him being gone all the time, working at the gym?”
I flick my hand and shake my head. “I bet she got tired of waiting around for a ring.” Ellis sets down a fresh glass of shitty white wine in front of me, and I shoot him a smirk of thanks before downing half of it in one go. “Or maybe our big dumbass brother actually did something absolutely moronic like cheat on her. Would explain why Dill gave him a black eye.”
I scrunch my nose at the thought. Warren is a lot of things, but a cheater doesn’t feel right. But what do I know? People make really fucking stupid choices sometimes.
All three of us are quiet for a moment.
Zane makes a noise. “Maybe he was just being too friendly with a client? And Morgan didn’t like that?”
Ian sighs. “War isn’t very friendly. Even to the clients. They don’t book him because he smiles; they book him because he’s good at what he does. Maybe he—”
“Maybe,” Ellis says, rag in hand, viciously scrubbing at the bar in front of us. “Maybe War is hiding way more than any of you realize. Maybe that? Maybe he…”
I bark another laugh and pat the cute guy's hand. He looks up, startled like he can’t believe he said that out loud. “Our brother is far too boring. You just don't like him.”
“Yeah,” Ian says, then tilts his head like a dog and squints his eyes at Ellis.
“Speaking of the devil. Or possible adulterer, should I say? He’s here.” Zane finishes his glass and spins around to greet our oldest brother.
