Always Crew (Crew Series Book 3) Read online

  “Hey!” I didn’t like that. “I’m here. I’m not pointless.”

  Tabatha’s eyebrows pinched together. Her forehead wrinkled. Her mouth turned down. “There’s nothing you can do. This has nothing to do with any of this and everything to do with my parents. It’s that type of shit.”

  “Like what?” What could possibly be that bad for her to make out with a guy and end it with Jordan? “What? Does your dad owe Harper’s dad or something—”

  No…

  I clocked her reaction. She full-on twitched, jerking in her chair. If she’d been pale before, she was a ghost this time.

  Oh no.

  “Are you serious?” My mind was spinning. This was bad, so bad. “I was just throwing out guesses. I never—” Damn. Damn! “Holy shit, Tabatha.”

  She jerked to her feet, coming to me fast. “You can’t say anything. My dad has no idea that I know. He has no idea about Tim.”

  “But, wait. Okay. I know enough to know that I need to know all of it. Tell me everything.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip, looking torn.

  “Everything, Tab!”

  “Oh, God.” She turned in a tight circle, starting to pace in front of me. Her hands went to her hair and she began pulling on her strands. “I can’t. I mean. Oh my God. I’m starting to hyperventilate. I can’t breathe, Bren. I can’t—” Turning back to me, tears rolling down her face, her mouth was trembling. “It’s bad. It’s really bad.”

  I was getting that. Stepping toward her, I softened my tone. “You have to tell me. Just tell me, Tabatha. Please.”

  She stopped, her entire body now shaking. “I’m so scared to say anything. I know you. If I tell you, you will do something. I can’t let you do anything. You’re Jordan’s family. If you got arrested, you’d go to prison this time. Jordan couldn’t handle that. I can’t be the cause of him watching his sister go to jail. I can’t, I mean, I won’t tell you.”

  “FUCKING TELL ME!”

  My patience was gone.

  She jumped again, slamming into her desk, but she didn’t seem to even notice. She half-perched there, and her shoulders lifted, held, and fell. I saw the defeat on her face. Her entire body, as well as her mind, seemed to give up, shrinking in front of me.

  Then, she told me everything.

  FROM: Tazsters

  TO: Brenners

  SUBJECT: WHAT IS HAPPENING IN CAIN?

  Wtf?! Tab called, completely losing it. And full disclosure, I’m somewhat being a bad friend. She had a ‘moment’ like a week ago and I forgot about it. School is good here. I’m loving it, but missing everyone there. Worried about Tab, to be honest. She was just crying and I couldn’t make out a lot of what she was saying. Something about a Zach?

  Do we know a Zach? I feel out of the loop.

  The Best Twin

  CROSS

  I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing, but then again…why not? Crazier things had happened in our life. Bren called as soon as she was done at the sorority, and she asked to meet up, just the two of us. We found an outside café off the grid, and it was there that she explained everything.

  I already felt a pounding headache forming. “You serious about all of this?”

  Bren nodded, taking me in, and I saw the shadow forming. “What are you thinking about doing?”

  I snorted. “Not tell Jordan. He’ll fucking flip out. He’ll kill Harper and won’t think twice about it.”

  “Which one?”

  Another snort from me. “Does it matter?”

  Seriously. I was tired. College was supposed to be different, more normal for us all. Yeah, I knew Bren was restless. She was feeling out of sorts from the group, but that was a stage. She’d find her niche. We’d find ours, and no matter what, no one was moving forward without the others. Four years. I wanted four years of being a student, no major brawls, no drug dealers fucking up my sister, no moments where I almost commit murder, and certainly no administration and crooked fucking cops arresting Bren. And that was all just the tip of the iceberg of our stuff.

  Now this shit?

  When would it be over? When would we be steady again? Even though I hadn’t had her at that time, a part of me missed the early days of just boozing it up with Jordan and Zellman, maybe taking the edge off with a girl—any girl—before I went in search of Bren. It was always Bren. I needed those girls, because if I hadn’t, I would’ve needed Bren too much. They took off the edge for what I felt for her.

  We moved at the right time for her, and that was my place. I always went by her timetable, about what she was ready for or what she wasn’t. I knew when to push, when to hold back, when to launch forward, when to pick at her, when to piss her off, when to tickle her, when to love her, and when to make her melt. I knew Bren more than I knew myself, and staring at her, I already knew there was no way we weren’t wading into this thing, neck fucking deep.

  “Why?”

  That shadow faded and a spark replaced it.

  Oh yeah. She was lighting up for me already.

  She wanted this fight. This was how Bren made sense of the world, where she was comfortable. This was her world and hell, her brother knew what he was doing when he sent those bounty hunters her way. Because they hadn’t just happened to be in Cain’s hospital the same time as Bren’s shift. The guy got his wound in another town over, one that had a better hospital. Channing sent them there. He probably knew Bren would suffocate slowly at the job she had.

  Fucker. He was smart.

  And why hadn’t I thought about it?

  Honestly? Was I jealous because he thought ahead for her and I hadn’t?

  Pathetic. Me.

  But she hadn’t answered me. I scowled. “Answer me, Bren.”

  “What?”

  “Why do you want to get involved with this? What are we supposed to even do?”

  She shifted on her seat, irritation tightening her features before she softened for whatever reason. That’s what Bren did. She got mad, and then she either hardened herself or she melted. When she was with me, it was the latter. Every time. And I found myself grinning because fuck, I loved her.

  I knew no matter what that I would do whatever she wanted me to do. She might’ve been floundering a little, but she didn’t know how much she was my anchor. She was my North Star. I needed her or I’d be lost. I’d go off the rails.

  Bren wanted justice in the world, and I knew that’s where we were going. Me, I just wanted her.

  “It’s Tabatha.” She shrugged, looking away from me as she answered.

  That reply didn’t sit right.

  I frowned. “What do you mean, ‘it’s Tabatha?’”

  “I don’t know. She’s, she’s just, she’s Tabatha.”

  That made no sense to me. “She’s Jordan’s cheating ex.”

  “She’s my friend.” She looked back to the table, starting to pick at some of the paint that had chipped off.

  Understanding then dawned. “You care about Tabatha.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Not really.”

  She frowned, going back to the paint, but this time with more determination.

  I reached over, catching her hand before she got a splinter, and pulled her around to my side. She resisted at first, then I tugged her all the way over. We were in a back corner. People could still see us, but I didn’t care. We weren’t normally a PDA couple, except for the occasion neither of us gave a damn what others thought. And this was one of those moments for me.

  I needed to touch her, reassure her.

  Keeping her hand in mine, I refrained from hauling her onto my lap, shifting to face her a bit better. “I’m not important in this scenario. You are. I want to hear what you want to do.” I nudged her on the leg. “Talk to me.”

  She flashed me a look.

  Yeah, yeah.

  I know. I didn’t open up about my brother either. There was a reason for that. One, he was a dick. Two, he was a dick. Three, he was still a dick, but I knew I coul
dn’t walk away from him and I also couldn’t stand to be around him. See my dilemma. Once I had the words, I would share them. I just didn’t have them at this moment in time.

  “Tabatha. You care about her.”

  She flicked her eyes up, but went with it. “I don’t have friends. It’s you, Jordan, and Zellman. I inherited your sister from you, but Tabatha is different. I hated her at first, couldn’t stand her. We had some issues, but I don’t know. I like her. And I’m pissed that we didn’t push Jordan or her about what happened before this. Two months, Cross. Two months. She’s been doing what she’s been doing for two months, and we could’ve helped it. We could’ve stopped it, even.”

  “Yeah, but we didn’t know. She didn’t come to us. He didn’t either. We were–”

  “We weren’t in each other’s businesses because of me. It’s my fault. All of this is my fault because you guys have been tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass. And I get it. I don’t know how I feel about my dad being out of prison, but it doesn’t matter—”

  “It matters.”

  “—he’s not even here. He’s back in Roussou, so I’m here. I’m doing my life here.”

  She faltered, and fuck me…I knew what she was struggling with.

  She was feeling guilty about being here for me, for the guys, for herself, when he was out and alone. He killed for her; that’s how Bren thought about it, and she was here. Not there. She wasn’t taking care of him. Instead, focusing on us. Her crew.

  Fuck. Me.

  I hadn’t known. I hadn’t seen it.

  I saw it now, and no, no, no.

  I wasn’t going to let that happen, but that was so not a conversation we could have now. She wasn’t ready for it, but dammit, when we did have it, I had to go hard. Super fucking hard. I was not going to lose her, lose us, because she felt guilty about her dad.

  “Hey.” I tipped her head up, my finger under her chin. “Tabatha is a big girl. So’s Jordan. He didn’t come to us earlier, and you know, he may never have until you pushed back. So, it happened. People made decisions for themselves and you didn’t know because maybe you weren’t supposed to know.”

  “What?” She half-laughed that question, while half-frowning at the same time.

  I shrugged, keeping my finger under her chin. “I don’t know. It sounded good. I don’t care about Tabatha. I’m sorry. I don’t. I care about Jordan, and I care about you. That’s where my loyalty is, but you care about Tabatha, and if you want to be her friend, then we’ll step in and help.” I tugged her over, saying right as her mouth was an inch away. “Because guess what? We all give a damn about you.” My hand slid to cup the side of her face, my fingers spreading out, anchoring her. “You know that, right? You’re the glue.”

  She blinked, her face twitching in my hand, and then I swept in.

  My lips touched hers, and it was right. It was always right when I kissed Bren.

  Always right. Always perfect. Always home.

  I angled my head, deepening the kiss, and I didn’t give a fuck who was watching.

  I was behind Bren’s truck, both of us sitting at a stoplight. Her taillights were flooding my vision when my phone rang.

  Glancing down, Blaise calling. I cursed and then hit accept.

  “What?”

  He cursed on his end. “In a mood? About to fuck your woman?”

  Another curse and I was trying to strangle my steering wheel. “Not the time, dickhead.”

  He laughed from his end. “It’s always the time to piss you off.”

  “You want to go? Another round?”

  His response was instant. “Yeah!” And I should’ve known.

  Blaise was the one who liked inciting me, not the other way around. He followed up what he said. I hadn’t known my brother to bluff, but then again, I’d only known him a short time.

  The light turned green and Bren’s taillights switched. She eased forward. I followed behind.

  “We’re almost home. What do you want?”

  “Zeke called. He’s pissed. Your girl talked to Tabatha?”

  “Zeke’s got no right to be pissed, and also, why the fuck do I care about that dick?”

  “I’m not saying you should. Stop putting your issues on me. We all have our own different battles. Pissing Zeke off is no skin off my nose. I’m happy to send him your way. I’ll bring the popcorn.”

  An ugly laugh ripped from me, deep in my throat. “Yeah. And you and I both know that if your best friend actually went against us, you would wade into the fight. You’d take over the fight for him. You know it. I know it. Zeke knows it.”

  “Yeah. Maybe. But I’d still have fun getting everyone riled up in the process.”

  Another laugh, this one not as ugly because he would enjoy it.

  “Bren covered for you. She said you actually never said anything.”

  “Meh. It’s fine. I didn’t, but I still sent you guys there. That is on me, but I don’t care. I’m not actually calling to rip you a new one for doing what I wanted. I’m calling because I want to know when you’re moving on Harper.”

  Bren pulled into the driveway. Jordan’s and Zellman’s trucks were already there, so I pulled up to the curb. Turning the ignition off, I sat there, my phone in hand. “Why do you have a hard-on for Harper?”

  “Because he’s a dick, and he did something to Aspen.” His voice dropped, becoming low and dangerous. He was my own brother, and a tension ran through me. I found myself gripping the phone tighter as he added, “For that, the fucker’s going to bleed.”

  Shit. My brother was scary.

  I said, “You want the first hit.”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  I frowned. “Why now? Why use us to get at him?”

  He was quiet a moment. “I’ve got my reasons, but know this. I’ve been jonesing for the right time to go at him. This is the right time. I’m in.”

  “And Zeke?”

  “Zeke’s my best friend.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? This guy is in his fraternity. They’re called brothers for a reason.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No—”

  “Shut up, for you. You’re showing your ignorance right now, but don’t worry. You’ll get it one of these days.” He didn’t sound pissed, just amused.

  I cursed again, shaking my head. “You are annoying.”

  “You know we’ll have to kill each other one of these days. There’s only supposed to be one of us.”

  “What?”

  He laughed. “Just kidding.” He hung up after that.

  He didn’t sound like he was kidding.

  And with that unsettling thought, I headed inside.

  Jordan was going to go apeshit.

  BREN

  Jordan went apeshit.

  He threw the recliner into the kitchen.

  That wasn’t enough. He went for the other recliner.

  That recliner went into the hallway.

  The couch was flipped over.

  “She—” He was red in the face, bending because he wasn’t content with the couch how it was. He flipped it upright, but shoved it toward the kitchen. I had no idea where he was going with it. “She—” grunt “—thought—” more grunting, shoving. The couch was now past the dining room table. “—she could whore herself out? For WHAT? FOR WHO?” There was roaring as he climbed over the couch and kicked open the back door.

  Zellman, Cross, and I stood in a straight line. I think we were all of the same mindset, simply waiting for him to tire himself out.

  Jordan went back to grunting and cursing, and soon the couch was through the door and out onto the patio. That couch wasn’t ours. If we damaged it, who was I kidding? If we were able to stay here for all four years, the couch was going to be replaced. Probably multiple times.

  “Her father fucked up.”

  He was kicking the couch over to the lawn as he talked.

  “So he took a bad loan out from Harper, Sr.”

  Another
kick. A shove. More grunting and cursing.

  “And fucking Harper, Sr. is going to cash it in, I don’t know what the fuck that means, but Tabatha being Tabatha—” one last heave and Jordan throws one end of the couch over the other and it tumbles all the way to the street. And we’re also on a slight hill. “—being fucking Tabatha, decides to whore herself out to Harper, Jr. to get the Dad Douchebag off her own douchebag father’s back, and for who?” He stalked to the street, lining up on the other side of the couch as he bent down. “For her mother! All this shit is for her own mother. Not for her dad, not for herself, not for either Harper Fucktwit, but for her mom. She doesn’t want her mom getting sick from worrying, from the shame? That’s the catalyst for all of this.” With a roar, he picked up the couch and began walking back to the house. With the couch. Over his shoulder and over his bent back.

  As if we were one person moving in tandem, Zellman, Cross, and I shifted, stepping back.

  Jordan went past, still with the couch on his back.

  He dropped it, straightening.

  The guy wasn’t even fazed.

  I glanced at Cross. What the hell did they do in the gym all those hours? Could he do that, too?

  As if sensing my thoughts, Cross shot me a look, his eyes darkening. Not now.

  I grinned back, but he was right. Back to Jordan.

  Instead of starting to toss it, because that’s what I’d been expecting, he righted it back up and dropped down onto it. Burying his head into his hands, he leaned over and yelled, “FUUUUUUCK!” Looking up, his face was stricken. “Did she sleep with him? Why?” His voice hitched. “Why didn’t she come to me? To us?”

  Zellman coughed. “Uh, I’m not trying to disagree with you or set you off so you’re all Hulk again, but what could we have done? What could we do? None of us have parents who have connections.”

  Well…

  Jordan glanced at me, his eyes sliding to Cross.

  I followed his look and yeah. That wasn’t technically true.