Page 61 of Rulebreaker

Atlas

“And scuttlebutt hasit that she and West went home together after the team’s charity event,” Banks says on a scowl, his beer hanging loose in his hand, his gaze on Aspen and Maisey, Frankie’s holding her, jealousy put aside for the moment. Likely because we’ve already had our Connect Four tournament and sundaes for dessert and now the rest of the girls are gathered around her and Maisey, praising her for doing such a good job holding the baby.

All except for Lily.

Who’s currently in Chicago, performing her ass off, while we both try to merge calendars so we’ll have some sustained time together.

“Well, charity event or not, she didn’t come home on Wednesday. Frankie, Jade, and I had a sleepover,” Royal mutters, his expression in a tight scowl as he studies the girls.

Whether it’s because Jade looks a little pale and tired—and is still hoovering food like she’s eating for two (though neither ofthem have shared any news about another addition joining our family, likely because they don’t want to step on Banks and Aspen’s)—or whether Royal is scowling because that’s his default expression, I don’t know.

Idoknow that I really don’t fucking like the fact that while Royal, Jade, and Frankie were having a sleepover, Briar was having one too.

Likely of the adult variety.

Fucking hockey players.

And by the way Banks’s expression clouds, I know he’s thinking the same.

As is Dash, who looks ready to punch something–either that or tie Briar up so she can’t ever leave her house and have another adult sleepover again.

So, I need to be the voice of reason.

Because little sis or not, fucking hockey players or not, Briar is a grown woman and needs to have the freedom to find someone who loves her and build a life that isn’t just being a mom or sister or employee.

“You know that the background check on West came back clear,” I say.

Does it sound like I’m grinding my teeth together?

Yes.

One hundred percent.

But it’s also the truth.

“That doesn’t mean the man’s closet isn’t full of skeletons,” Royal grits out.

“Except,” Dash says, taking a long glug of his beer, “it kind of does–especially since mine all came back clear too.” He shakes his head. “West is clean as a whistle.”

“Aside from the two parking tickets.”

“Oh the humanity,” I hear and we all turn, see that Briar’s freed herself from the circle of women and is leaning backagainst the wall, holding a glass of wine, and smirking at us. “Nottwoparking tickets,” she says with faux outrage before taking a sip of wine. “Does he have a speeding ticket on his record too?”

“No,” Dash and I say in unison.

She lifts her hand, fingers twitching. “All right then. Lay it on me.”

“He went to traffic school,” I tell her begrudgingly.

Briar stills, expression surprised, and I brace, expecting to be on the receiving end of that barbed temper of hers that earned her the nickname, Thorny.

Instead, she shocks me by laughing, toasting me with her wine glass, and then turning to make her way back to the girls, tossing over her shoulder as she goes, “Carry on with the incredible detective work, boys.”

Dash, Banks, Royal, and I all glance at each other, raising our brows, and I know I’m not the only one who’s shocked.

“Two parking tickets?” Banks mutters.

“Traffic school?” Royal adds with a scowl.