Chapter Six
JOEL
You ever just want to go on a rampage?
Break everything in sight? Throw stuff around. Scream at whoever is in earshot?
Then you're sitting there weighing the pros and cons of going berserk and dealing with the fact that you try to be a decent human being.
Which means you don't go around destroying other people's property and shouting at them incoherently.
As such, I was seething. Pacing. Fists balled up and ready to explode, with no easy way to vent my frustrations.
Logan? He wasn't much better. I was surprised he didn't give in to the rage.
"Fuck, man," I let out. We were right in front of the apartment building. Our agenda was to spend some quality time with Tate, the carnality of that time dependent on Jeremy's presence. It really had gotten to the point that while I really, really liked fucking her, even just hanging out and watching a movie was a pretty good time.
Because we'd probably go fuck later as soon as Jeremy passed out or was called into work. I was a patient man and there was no girl worth waiting for more than Tate.
"You got any ideas?" Logan said, scratching his head. "‘Cause I'm all out."
"We should have approached him calmly instead of sneaking around on him. Think of how fucking disrespectful we were. Fucking in every single room of his apartment."
"Hey, we cleaned up after ourselves."
"Still. We knew this would provoke him. We've spent the last month going nuts on his sister under his nose. It does makes us look suspect."
Logan leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. "Yeah, I see your point. He's been sort of wary of us ever since he caught us tag teaming Tabitha half a year back."
"Tate's not Tabitha. Not by any means." I didn't even want to think about those days anymore. After Tate, no one was going to compare. No one else would do.
"What? We just sit around and wait for him to come to his senses?"
"No," I said flatly. "That's not going to happen. Did you see what I saw, Logan?"
"Hmm? What? Tate and Jeremy were arguing. He flipped out about something. I wasn't really sure why."
"That why is what's really concerning me."
"What, how did he find out about us? You think Tate ratted us out?"
"No," I shook my head to emphasize my belief. "She was just afraid of his response as we were. He put the pieces together without her saying a word."
"How'd he do that then? I doubt he's going to nanny-cam his eighteen-year-old sister, man."
"There was a pregnancy test on the counter."
It hit Logan like a bag of bricks. "Wait, do you think she's...?"
"We haven't exactly been playing it safe."
That was the other elephant in the room we never talked about, alongside Jeremy knowing about our relationship. How wantonly we engaged in raw, bareback lust. How both us always refused to pull out. How we wanted those extra few seconds inside of her, so serene that they made any risk worth it.
"It's a test, though. That's not confirmation."
"A woman gets signs. Unless they're deliberately trying, they're not just going to randomly buy a pregnancy test for no reason."
"So, there's a good chance she's... We’re going to be..."
"We're?" I laughed. "That's a way to put it."
Logan scowled. "You going to be requesting a paternity test to make sure it's yours?"
"Of course not. This is both our doing. Paternity is our burden together, brother. It doesn't matter whose sperm won the biological lottery, Tate is ours, and whoever child she carries is our child, too."
My brother lingered for a moment, his eyes closed, his thoughts coming together so quickly and completely.
Then he bolted right past me into the building.
"Wait," I called out. "What are you doing?"
He stopped just to shoot me a glare. "Tate was more than just a fucktoy for us already, Joel. If she's going to be the mother to our children, then I'm seeing her, and I don't give a single fuck what Jeremy says. She's coming with us if she has to. I'm not going to let her be financially held captive."
I blinked a moment, and then smiled. He had a damn good point.
So I darted past him, rushing the elevator.
"Let's go get our woman, Logan."
He just smiled in return, following me on my way.