Too Wrong: Hayes Brothers Book 2

“You’re distracted,” Nico points out, tugging from the bottle of Corona. “What’s going on?”

He took Ghost out of the vivarium while I jogged upstairs to put on sweatpants and a t-shirt. The snake lazily curls into a donut beside him, surprisingly comfortable around someone he doesn’t know. I guess vicious creatures stick together.

I’m not getting out of this conundrum now. For some reason, the whole Hayes clan is coming over. If my phone wasn’t set to silent while I was with Cass, I could’ve avoided their visit, but when Nico rang ten times in a row, I didn’t answer, prompting him to come over. Now, Shawn, Theo, and even the triplets are on their way.

Something’s up.

It’s not unusual for us to invade one’s house, but I can feel it in my bones that something is wrong.

My palms grow more damp with each passing second.

I think they know about Cass and me.

I think this is an intervention.

I think Nico will go nuclear on my ass as soon as the other five step through the door.

“Nah, I’m good,” I lie through my teeth, itching to throw him out of here and let Cassidy out of the garage.

Again, if I had taken a second to think, I would’ve sent her upstairs, but my mind was thrown into overdrive when I saw Nico standing outside the front door on the security system app.

“Work as always,” I add. “Care to tell me why everyone is coming over here tonight?”

“We would’ve met at my place if you answered your phone.” There’s no amusement in his eyes. It’s not like he ever smiles, but given the circumstances, I tense even more. “Patience, bro. I’ll tell you when everyone gets here.”

The doorbell rings five minutes later, and the triplets pour inside, not waiting for an invitation. To be honest, I’m surprised that Nico hadn’t just barged in. I don’t insist on them knocking the way Theo does. He’s very particular about privacy. Even more so since he met Thalia, which is understandable, I guess.

I wouldn’t risk walking into their house without knocking in case I’d walk in on my younger brother getting his dick wet.

Colt and Conor banter down the hallway before entering the living room. Cody hugs a case of beer to his chest, his hair long enough to be tied into a ponytail at the back of his neck, but it’s not Cody’s hairstyle that has Nico and me frowning.

“What happened to your face?” I ask, glaring at Colt’s black eye and split lip. “You let some asshole hit you?”

“Quite a few times before I arrived at the scene to help,” Conor says, blowing the curly mane out of his eyes. He looks like Harry Styles back in 2013. One of these days, I’ll get him drunk beyond comprehension and cut his hair myself. “I got punched in the ribs.” He inflates his chest proudly and lifts his t-shirt to reveal a purple, dusky bruise the size of my hand. “We won, though.”

“Why were you fighting?” Nico forces the words past his clenched teeth.

“How did you not know? They live at your house!”

“I’ve not seen them in three days, Logan.” He turns back to Colt. “Why did you get hit? Have I taught you nothing?”

Cody opens the case of beer, handing out bottles to the other two. “Give him a break. The guy was your size and raging.”

“And where were you when they were getting their asses handed to them?”

“Making sure the girl that fucker drugged to rape at the back of Q was okay,” Cody seethes, murder on his mind as he dares to glare at Nico. Bold move. “Any more fucking questions?!”

I’ve never heard him snap. His chest heaves, and his hands ball into tight fists like he’s getting ready to knock Nico out if he says one more word. Good luck. He’d end up in the ICU if he’d dare to throw one punch. Nico would knock him out before Cody’s fist would come near his face.

The door to the house opens again, saving us from an awkward situation.

“Anybody home?!” Shawn laughs, walking into the living room with a bottle of vodka in hand. “How’s your friend?” he asks the triplets. “Is she going to testify?”

“We’re working on it,” Cody admits, his tone back to normal. “She’s shaken up, but she’s a tough one. She’ll be okay.”

“Tough one?” Shawn scoffs. “She puked all over Colt’s shoes, bro. She’s not tough.”

“She was almost raped!” Cody booms again, scrambling to his feet. “Did you expect her to laugh it off? Give her a break! We’ll have her at the station on Monday. You make sure Asher doesn’t walk away with a warning, alright?”

“Asher Woodward?” I ask, recalling the guy who got his nuts kicked by Thalia two years ago. She saw him spike someone’s drink and got in his face.

“Yeah, same one. I should have enough now to send him down for a couple of years.”

“A couple of years?” Conor scoffs, raking his hand through the mess he calls hair. “I should’ve knocked out a few more of his teeth.”

The last of the seven arrives with more beer. This is turning into a typical Hayes rager. They won’t leave for hours. I want to send Cass a text, but if the volume on her phone is on the highest setting, the guys might hear it ping.

My leg bounces on the floor. “Right, what’s this gathering all about?” I ask Nico once everyone has a beer or drink in hand. “Are we celebrating something?”

The room falls silent. My heart beats like a conga drum while he takes his sweet time, building on the anticipation and tension. He takes a wad of papers from his jacket pocket and hands them to me with a stoic face. I feel sick when I unroll the papers, expecting pictures of Cass and me making out in the doorway to her apartment. 

There are no pictures, though. 

My brows knot in the middle. Purchase Agreement is written at the top in bold ink, and Country Club catches my eye among the mass of text. “Is that,” I start, staring at Nico. “You bought the Country Club?!”

He bobs his head, his face no longer impassive. In fact, he’s sporting a real fucking smile. “I made the jackass an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

“You spoke to Jared?!” Theo booms.

“Through my lawyer. Anyway, this,” he takes the paperwork from me and slaps it on the coffee table, “isn’t why I wanted you all here. “This is.” He fishes another wad of papers out and hands out six copies.

I briefly read through mine, my eyes bulging out of their sockets. Nico split the Country Club seven ways, giving us fourteen percent of shares each.

“Why?” Shawn gets out of the initial shock first.

Nico shrugs, but I know there’s a solid reason. He never makes any moves without planning and thinking it through. “You’re married with a kid. You don’t have much time for us anymore. Theo’s married, too, and soon we’ll all have families. You think we’ll ever get together, just the seven of us, to sit and drink like we are now?”

“Hell yes!” Colt booms. “Bros before hos!”

The line earns him a whack across the back of his head from Theo. “Call my wife a ho again, and you’ll be picking your teeth off the carpet, bro.”

“We’ll see each other, sure,” Nico continues. “But it’ll be birthdays and Christmas and Mom’s get-togethers. Running a business will keep us close. Mandatory management review meetings are factored into the agreements. Two weekends a year in an undisclosed location.”

Theo smirks, patting Nico on the back. “So, you basically drew up a legal document to let us get away from our wives and kids for the weekend.”

“Sweetie, it’s work. I swear. Yes, we’re going to Vegas, but… shit, just look at the contract. I have to go!” Cody dramatizes.

I can’t believe my brother spent a few million dollars to make sure we’d have a reason to get away from our lives and spend time together, just the seven of us.

“Shit,” Shawn says, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re making me tear up, asshole.”

We laugh it off, but the truth is, there’s a clog in my throat, too. I can’t imagine my life without the six of them, and it makes me painfully aware that the time has come to end the dalliance with Cassidy. At first, I was fine with casual, but for the past week, I struggled to focus, willing the hours away so I could drive over to her flat and spread her on the kitchen counter.

I’m balancing on the edge of the knife. One false move and I’ll come tumbling down. The question is, will I hit the sharp or the blunt edge?

I thought I’d have my fill of her by now, but the longer we continue the arrangement, the more I crave her body. And lately, the erotic thoughts aren’t limited to my dick sliding in and out of her. I imagine kissing her. I imagine locking her in my arms and stroking her back as we lay breathless on the small, uncomfortable bed in her bedroom.

She’s a parasite I can’t get rid of, and I have to. The longer we continue, the bigger the risk that my brothers will catch onto the secret.

We celebrate for a few hours, talking, catching up, and laughing at Shawn’s stories about Josh causing undeniable mayhem. They leave around one in the morning, and as soon as the last car disappears at the end of the street, I cross the hallway and yank the garage door open, flipping the light on.

“Shit, I’m so—” I pause, glancing around the empty room. Where the hell did she go?

A small, silver gift bag lies on the floor. I pick it up, my eyebrows knotted together when I pull out a card.

Thank you for helping with the floor. And thank you for listening. The seats aren’t as good as you’d pick, but I hope you’ll enjoy the day.

Two tickets to a Los Angeles Dodgers game a few weeks from now are in the bag. My heart wrings itself out again. Here I am, ready to cut her loose, and she chooses that moment to buy me tickets to see my favorite team play.

I take my phone out of my pocket and check the security app to see how she managed to get out of here unnoticed. I’m relieved to see she emerged from the side of the building at the front of the house, which means…

I glance from the screen to the personnel door on the opposite wall. I’ve used that door twice since I moved in. Maybe it’d be wise to lock it. There’s nothing in the garage to steal, but I don’t lock the door that leads inside the house, and there’s plenty to steal in there.

She’s probably asleep by now, but I send her a text anyway.

Me: I’m sorry. That was a dick move even for me. Thank you for the tickets.

Delivered changes to read under the message almost instantly, but three dots are nowhere to be seen. A minute goes by, two, five. No reply.

Me: Don’t ghost me. I should’ve told you to go upstairs, but I wasn’t thinking.

Again, read but no reply. She’s mad as hell. To be honest, I deserve the silent treatment. Locking her in the dark, cold garage, wet and still scared after she went under, was fucking low.

Me: Come on, don’t be like that. I’m sorry.

The three dots start dancing. I leave the garage and head upstairs, my eyes on the screen while she types. And it seems she’s typing a whole dissertation on the topic. I strip off my clothes, brush my teeth and get in bed, all the while waiting for her to finish scolding me and hit send.

The dots stop, then start again, and it takes at least ten minutes before my phone pings.

Princess: I’m fine. Goodnight.

A kind of slow, stubborn, unquenchable guilt sweeps through me. Fuck. That hurts.

She’s not fine. Not by a long shot.

She’s upset again.

Because of me. Again.

The image of her tear-stained face flashes before my eyes. I try to swallow the shame burning the back of my throat, but it’s lodged there like a chunky piece of an apple.

I need to let that girl go. I don’t want to be another person in her life that’s there to take and give little in return.