Page 33 of Enemies with Benefits (Finding the Right Brother #1)

"I don't know, the thought of being dead before I hit forty is a pretty big thing."

"Oh. Right."

"You know," I said, arching a brow. "It's ironic that you get so pissed off when I say stupid or insensitive shit, but you do it all the time."

"I do it by accident. You do it on purpose to get to people."

"True, but what's worse, someone who says shit because they know it'll get a reaction, but could choose not to. Or the person who keeps stumbling into saying shit all the time but obviously can't help it, so they're just gonna keep doing it."

"Someone doing something by accident is a lot better than someone doing it on purpose."

"Oh, cool, so if I didn't mean to shoot someone while screwing around with a gun, then I should be able to get away with it without any trouble."

"That's different."

"How?"

"First off, you killed someone, not hurt their fucking feelings."

"Still, you seem to think that intent matters more than results. Which is always funny to me."

"Of fucking course you find it funny, everything about people is funny to you even when it's not funny to anyone but some asshole who likes mocking people."

"I meant," I continued, ignoring him because I knew that would get a bigger reaction than taking the bait.

Even when we were trying to get along, we couldn't help but find ways to dig at each other, "that people usually don't give a flaming fuck about intentions.

Doesn't matter if you accidentally said something stupid, all people are going to care about is that you hurt their feelings.

But that same person is going to get pissy if they upset someone else because they didn't mean to.

My mom liked to tell me that we judge other people by the results, but want ourselves to be judged by our intentions, and I've yet to see evidence to argue against it. "

Jace looked at me in disbelief. "Is that how you justify it? Everyone's going to think you're an asshole anyway, so you might as well be one?"

"Nah, I'm just an asshole, no point in trying to cover that up," I said with a laugh, stretching my legs out and sitting up straight. "But hey, one bonus with all of that is that people don't expect me to be a nice person, so when I am, they know I mean it."

"The mental gymnastics you go through are amazing," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"You only have to do mental gymnastics if you're trying to justify or understand something," I said with a shrug.

"I don't need to do that. I know what I am, and I'm at peace with it.

You're the one going through gymnastics right now.

At the moment, it's trying to peg me with some label you can understand and work with.

But overall? You're trying to figure out why my sister did what she did, even though it's as simple as people sometimes do shitty things for half-baked reasons that don't make sense to them most of the time.

You're trying to figure out what's going on with your sexuality when it's as simple as hell. "

"The fuck it is."

"It is. You've discovered you like dick on occasion, big fucking deal. And it's only a big deal because you're making it one."

"You're so good at empathy, I really hope you don't work with people."

"I'm a club owner, letting people tell me their business and giving them blunt statements is part of the job."

"What club?"

"Up in Portland."

"Then why the fuck are you here? Instead of running your club?"

"The wonderful thing about being the owner of a business that's doing well is that it's running well because you've got people who know what they're doing.

Which means they don't need their boss breathing down their neck to make shit run right.

Get good people, trust them once they're established, treat them well, and definitely pay them well, and it's a miracle, suddenly they're willing to do their job and do it well. "

"Or they're just glad you're not around anymore."

"Eh, I'm a better boss than I am a person."

"Modest."

"Honest."

I stopped when the sound of wet footsteps approached, and I looked up to find Micah standing before us, a towel wrapped around his thin shoulders and a serious expression on his face. "What's up?"

"I want my snack," Micah said, looking between us.

My family had been right about Jace and me needing to play nice with one another because it seemed like whenever we were around one another, Micah was always watching us.

The kid had always been incredibly sensitive to the moods of people, and it always felt like he was trying to gauge what kind of day Jace and I were having with one another.

"That feels like something I'm missing information on," Jace said slowly.

"He's been on a charcuterie kick lately.

But like...very specific and ever-changing parts," I explained with a snort.

I raised a brow when Micah opened his mouth.

“C'mon, dude, we both know I'm not the one you need to tell.

You're in luck that it's Lilah working today, and she loves indulging your weirdness. "

Micah thought about that for a moment before nodding. “You're right. I'll tell her."

"Make sure to wash that chlorine off," I told him as he turned to walk off, giving me a sigh before walking toward the small changing room just off the pool area. I glanced over to find Jace scowling at me. “What?"

"Why do you keep calling him weird?"

"Because he is."

"He is not."

"Yes, he is. And there's no point in pretending he's not, because the world sure as shit isn't going to let him forget he's weird.

Better that he learns he is now and learns to embrace it.

Otherwise, people will use that fact against him.

They already do. You think the kids he goes to school with aren't aware that he's weird as hell?

Because they are, and some of them try to use it against him. "

Jace's brow furrowed deeper. “And you just...let it happen?"

"Nope, Moira has repeatedly gone up there trying to get it taken care of, but we know schools only do so much," I said with a shrug.

"Better that he learns to embrace his weirdness surrounded by people who don't care that he's weird and still love him.

Not just in spite of him being weird, but because of it too.

He needs to know how to be tough, but not afraid to be himself. "

Jace stared in the direction Micah had walked off in. “You ever thought about teaching him how to be tough in other ways too?"

"What, like fighting?"

"How to defend himself."

"Sounds like fighting to me, just nicer."

"You have to pick at everything to make yourself right, don't you?"

"Look," I said, knowing that taking the bait would lead to another argument. Which would be fine, but Micah would be back at any moment, and I didn't need him picking up on the attitudes between us again. "If you want to try teaching him self-defense, be my guest. He never caught onto it before."

"You tried?"

"We tried a couple of classes."

"That's not the same thing as knowing how to fight."

"I thought it was self-defense?"

"Mason. Jesus fucking Christ."

I laughed because, really, it was too easy to get a rise out of him sometimes. "Look, I didn't teach him how to fight, no. Alright?"

Mostly because Moira had looked livid at the thought when I'd brought it up.

As much as I was willing to occasionally skirt around my sister when it came to helping with Micah, there were still lines I wasn't willing to cross.

Which left me with the option of warning him what kind of fallout he could be dealing with if he tried, but should I?

It wouldn't hurt the kid to know, and if Jace taught him stuff without permission and without warning from anyone, then he could be safe within his ignorance.

"Then you teach him," I said with a shrug, briefly wondering if I was setting him up for failure. "Think of it as a bonding moment between you if that's what you want so bad."

Jace grunted. “Maybe I will...if he wants."

I snorted, glancing over as Micah appeared in a change of clothes and watching us expectantly.

“Then do what you want. In the meantime, if you're thinking of exploring that curiosity you keep trying to deny, find me after you're done being dragged around as his personal escort. Maybe we can find another supply room."

"You're ridiculous," he growled with a roll of his eyes, which was an improvement from his normal criticism, generally involving far more fire and hostility. Maybe there really was something to be said about getting the man laid once in a while, even if it was with me.

Yeah, that was still weird.

"I might be," I admitted as I stood up to leave. "But you're still going to watch my ass as I walk off."

I paused long enough to whack the support holding Dom's chair at a comfortable angle.

It wasn't like he fell far, but he still flailed from the unexpected motion.

I kept moving, a little faster than was probably safe on the slick surface, but I knew full well my brother wouldn't hesitate to use his superior strength to chuck me in the pool.

Micah shook his head as I passed him on my way to the door, my laughter echoing among Dom's cursing and the clatter of his chair as he tried to get to his feet without taking the chair out in the process.

And even among all that, I glanced back to find that Jace had in fact been watching my ass despite all the chaos.

God, we were in trouble if this kept going...which didn't stop me from giving him a wink as I disappeared out of sight.