Page 36

Brix has tattoos running from his fingers up his arms, and there are some peeking from his collar. I can only assume his upper torso is covered as well.

I’m finding it harder and harder to stop imagining him shirtless. Or naked and on top of me with all that muscled beauty pressing me into the mattress.

He’s so much bigger than when we were kids, his shoulders so broad, his arms the size of bowling balls, his pecs like a fucking barrel. He’s big and formidable, and mouth wateringly sexy.

Yet still so fucking infuriating, especially when he huffs out an impatient puff of air.

“E, what the fuck happened? You owe us that much after what you put us through.”

“What I—” I bite the words off. Because apparently, my guys have believed for four fucking years I killed our child and ran away for some unknown reason. “First of all, why would you think I would ever run away? What part of that night made you think I wanted to be anywhere without you?”

“Your father.”

I wait. Then wait some more. When he doesn’t elaborate, it’s my turn to huff an impatient sound. “My father what? He told you I ran away?”

Brixton’s eyes flit to Nico, then back to my face.

“Okay. How about this, why the fuck would you think I would abort our child after I was so excited to tell you three I was pregnant?”

His brows raise in a silent explanation.

“Did my dad tell you I aborted the baby? That I ran away?”

He dips his head once.

“Motherfucker,” I grumble, dropping my head against the paper covered pillow, the crinkle loud so close to my ears. “That’s not what happened, B. And I can’t believe after everything you would believe I would have ever willingly walked away from you.”

Tears well in my eyes again, and I no longer have the energy or give a fuck to wipe them away as they trail over my lashes and roll hot down my cheek.

Nico sighs when a tear drips onto his work.

“Maybe we should finish this another day. The outline is done. The color is going to take a few hours,” Nico says, looking at Brix, not me.

Because of course, I have no say in this. I have no say in my life. I never really have.

Brixton is still looking at me, but nods at Nico’s words. He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and hands over a black credit card. Of course, all three of them probably have them now since Kato is officially head of the Antoniou crime family.

Nico leaves the room and I pull the sweater back up to cover my nipples because this moment feels far too intimate. I might not have minded getting naked for strangers, but that’s because I was able to make them background noise. Sometimes I would pretend they were my guys.

But it almost seems like Brixton is willing to actually hear me out, to listen to me, to let me explain why I had to leave, and it had nothing to do with my lack of love for them.

I left because I loved them more than my own life.

When Nico returns, he hands the card, a receipt, and a pen to Brix then starts adding cream and some kind of sticky plastic over my tattoo. “Try to keep from washing it today. Keep it moisturized. I’ll give you something to use on it so it’ll heal clean.”

The whole time he talks, it feels like Brix and I are locked in our own little moment until he finally glances down, scribbles his signature on the receipt, then pulls out a wad of cash and hands it to Nico.

“I’ll call and set up a day to get her finished,” he says as he unfolds his six-seven frame from the chair and takes my sweater from my hands, holding it so I can slide my arms into the holes.

As his hands pull it into place, his knuckles graze the sides of my boobs, sending a shiver down my spine and making my nipples harden instantly.

“It was good to finally meet you, Everest,” Nico says before offering a hand to Brix and dragging him into one of those overly masculine back slapping bro hugs.

I don’t know why, but there’s a brief second when I wonder if they’ll kiss goodbye.

But they’d both reassured me they had never been in a relationship; they’d only fucked. Or at least fooled around.

Honestly…that doesn’t make the image in my head any less sexy.