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I glance at my best friend and am instantly annoyed to find him looking like someone killed his puppy.

We’re all at Kolt and Paige’s to celebrate Thanksgiving early.

He’s not supposed to be in a pissy mood.

“Dude, what the fuck is your deal?” I growl to Smith, punching him in the side.

“This is Friendsgiving. There’s pie. There’s a slightly overcooked turkey, but that can be fixed with a ton of gravy. Why are you sulking like a bitch?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles before glancing at the door.

“My sister should be here soon.”

That catches my attention.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve laid eyes on his hot-as-sin sister.

Even longer since she demanded my cock and rode it like it was her job and left me with a satisfied smile on my face.

Before she thought I was a scumbag.

“Oh, I see.” I nod like nothing’s weird.

He doesn’t know I fucked his baby sister.

I can’t let him find out either.

He’s spent so much of this season protecting her from Rowan and fighting her battles; I don’t want him to think I’m just another asshole trying to take advantage of her.

Even though, if anyone took advantage, it was her.

Not that I minded though.

“So, why is this a problem? I mean, it’s not that unusual for your sister to hang out with the team.” I shrug, lazily leaning against the counter.

“It’s not her that I don’t want to see—even though she’s annoying as fuck most of the time. It’s who she’s bringing with her.”

My pulse quickens, and my shoulders tense.

“Is it fucking Rowan?” I growl lowly, even though it sounds insane, coming from my lips.

Why would she bring that dickface?

“What?” He glowers, pulling his head back.

“Fuck no. Why would she hang out with him after what he did? I mean, the bastard treated her like shit, used her for sex, and then dumped her in front of half the fucking team.”

I wish that were all he did, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.

It hurts Smith enough to know that Rowan hurt his sister’s feelings.

He’d never get over the truth if he knew it.

“Yeah, no, that was stupid of me to even think.” I relax slightly, until I realize she may be bringing another dude.

“So, who is it then? Why are you so on edge, man?”

I know why I’m on edge, and it’s because I’ve had a thing for her for-fucking-ever, but now that I’ve been inside of her …

I’m next-level fucking batshit crazy when it comes to her.

Hell, even thinking about Saylor showing up here with some random guy has me seeing red.

Smith isn’t usually worked up like this, so I have to wonder who has him this way.

“It’s Gemma.” He whispers the name, and I instantly understand.

I can feel the pain radiating from his body.

With his tattoos and all his muscles, he’s a tough man, but I’ve been around him long enough to know that, in Smith’s story, Gemma Jones will always be the one who got away.

It’s haunted him every day since too.

It’s time for me to be a good friend.

Smith’s hype buddy—that’s what I need to be right now.

He’s always there for everyone else on the team, keeping it together for all of us.

When my dad had a heart attack last year, I damn near lost my mind, trying to get home as quickly as I could, and he went with me.

And when Logan became an instant dad, Smith set up a damn meal train for him while he adjusted to parent life.

I can do the same for him.

“That might be good though, right? You can talk to her.” I search his face for hope, but he just looks really fucking nervous and agitated.

“This might be your shot, Smith. Your shot at mending things with Gemma.”

He quietly brews over everything I said.

His silence makes me think I shouldn’t have said a damn word.

“You don’t get it,” he utters, his eyes cutting to mine.

“She hates me. She really, really hates me.” He looks away, taking a sip from his cup.

“She has every right to too.”

Before I can come up with something to counter that and make him feel less fucking shitty, he pulls his phone out.

That might not be a bad thing either because I likely would have made it worse with whatever I could muster up.

“Fuck, they’re here,” he sighs before taking off toward the front door.

Shit.

I feel like a total shitbag for bringing my best friend here tonight.

When she showed up in Portland a few days ago, on the run from her now ex-fiancé, it was clear that Gemma had just walked out of a literal nightmare.

But I guess I just thought being out and around people would do her some good.

When I look over at her now though, as we get familiar with everyone, it’s glaringly obvious she’s extremely uncomfortable, and that’s the last thing I ever want to make my best friend feel.

I’ve had my suspicions about the man Gemma was supposed to marry for a while now, but I thought I was being crazy or maybe even a little jealous.

Not jealous that she had met her Prince Charming—because who needs one of those?

But jealous of him because he was getting to spend time with her when, since we had been in second grade, we had been attached at the hip.

I’ve missed my best friend, but I never wanted her to return home under these kinds of circumstances.

She didn’t just leave her fiancé; she ran away from him because he had been beating the shit out of her day in and day out.

Looking at my friend sends a shooting pain right to my heart because, this whole time, I didn’t know.

And even when I had a funny feeling, I did nothing.

I failed Gemma. What’s worse is, I’m about to fail her a whole lot more because in a few short weeks …

I’m leaving for South Carolina.

I haven’t had the courage to tell her yet because, well, she looks too sad and broken right now and I can’t bear the thought of making her feel worse.

My brother has been in love with Gemma since the first day he saw her, but when he finally had her six years ago, he ghosted her and went to college.

Now, she hates his guts.

So, I’m not sure how it’s going to go over when I suggest she live with him after I leave for South Carolina.

Who knows though? Maybe it’ll bring them back together.

Or maybe they’ll kill each other.

It’s hard to say, given their personalities.

Smith is stubborn, and Gemma is …

sharp.

Gemma walks beside me, bringing her face toward my ear.

“So, there stands the infamous big-dick man, huh?” She sneakily darts her eyes to Ryder, who stands at the other end of the room with his hands tucked in his hoodie pocket.

“I can practically see the outline through his jeans,” she jokes, but still, my eyes fly to his crotch.

“Shut up. It wasn’t that big,” I lie, tearing my eyes away before he sees me gawking.

“It was, like, mediocre. Kind of.”

I made the mistake of telling her that we’d hooked up, but my big mouth didn’t stop there.

Nope, I had to go on about how he had a huge cock too.

I swear, sometimes, my mouth just blurts shit out before I even have a chance to consider the aftereffects of it.

“You seem to be awfully flustered by this mediocre-dick man,” she utters as playfully as she can muster.

“Oh, look, he’s coming this way.”

Before he makes it to us, Gemma quickly escapes, leaving me by myself, and I suck in an aggravated breath through my teeth when I catch the sight of him grinning as he approaches me.

“Hey, look,” I say, lifting a brow, “I understand you enjoyed yourself the other night and all, but jeez, have some self-respect. You’re giving super-desperate vibes.”

A knowing smirk tugs at his lips, and for a split second, I wonder what his mouth would feel like between my legs.

It probably wouldn’t feel like heaven at all.

Not even a little, I’m sure.

I attempt to lie to myself in hopes that I’ll stop picturing his head between my thighs, but it doesn’t work.

If anything, it makes it worse, and drool gathers in my mouth.

“Enjoyed myself? I sure did. Though I think you enjoyed yourself too, Brat ,” he counters casually.

“But either way, that’s not why I came over here.”

“Go on,” I say.

“Show me you’re a good boy who respects women.”

“Good boy, huh?” he says, his voice growing hoarse before he swallows.

“Who says I’m a good boy, Sail-On?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” I wave my hand at him.

“Before we hooked up, we’d share a few words, sure. But since then, you’ve been different with me.” I shake my head.

“Which I don’t get, by the way. It was just sex.”

“Revenge sex,” he counters.

“Not that I’m complaining. You took your anger out on my cock, and I liked it. I liked it so much that I think we need a repeat.”

I can’t stop myself from wondering if Ryder has heard about the sex tape.

Or worse, saw it. But he’s not that type of guy.

The kind who sits around with a bunch of dudes and watches his best friend’s sister unknowingly have sex on camera.

At least, I really don’t think he is.

And if he has heard about it, he seems like the guy who would bring it up and ask if I was all right.

“I don’t think so, Pretty Boy.” I smile.

“Why not?” He frowns.

“First off, I’m turning a new page in my book of life. I’m not going to continue screwing my brother’s best friends, and I’m also not going to throw myself at any dude who gives me a second look.” I inhale, biting my lip playfully.

“I think I got everything I needed a few weeks ago, thanks.” I offer a mischievous grin.

“Have a good night, Cambridge. Don’t get into any trouble.”

He doesn’t look disappointed; instead, he just seems like he doesn’t believe me.

“Yeah, you too,” he answers idly before lifting his drink to his lips.

For a moment, my eyes are stuck on his lips as he sips the liquid.

My mouth waters, and I swallow harshly.

And suddenly, I’m jealous of a glass.