Always Crew by Tijan
BREN
Jordan was up when I was grabbing coffee the next morning. I saw him outside, a mug in front of him, and he was staring off at the bonfire that still had a little smoke coming from it. I grabbed my own cup, checked the time, and since I had a few minutes before I had to leave, I headed outside.
“Hey.”
The morning air was crisp and chilled.
Jordan looked over, bags under his eyes. His head inclined and he raised his hand a tiny bit off the table. “Morning.”
They partied late last night. We heard them, though they weren’t too loud. What I definitely knew I’d heard late into the night or early into the morning was someone giggling.
I asked, “Did you have an overnight guest?”
Jordan went back to staring at the bonfire, a whole troubled look coming over him. He had on a sweatshirt, the hood pulled low over his face, and he shifted back in his chair. His hands went into the pocket in the front of his sweatshirt, and he pulled the bottom out to rest lower on his lap. He lounged back, his legs stretching out.
“That was Zellman.”
“Ah.”
Jordan looked over at me, his lip curling upwards. “Bren.”
“Hmm?”
“If you want to know about our love lives, you can ask.”
That statement struck me, because it was weird, but it was weird because it shouldn’t have been weird. I grinned at him, rolling my eyes slightly. “I’m not—”
“I know.” He was talking gently. Understanding flashed in his eyes. “Bren, we get it. You’re a chick, but you’re not a chick. We get that, too. For real, and you can ask us about who we’re sleeping with and who we are dating. Shit. We bug you about yours sometimes.”
I felt myself loosening up, though he was right. Talk like this had never been a staple with me and the guys. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt kinda nice being able to ask him. “So, what’s up with you and Tabatha then?”
He groaned, half laughing. His head ducked all the way down until he lifted once more. “Damn. I walked into that one, huh?”
I raised my eyebrows. Waiting.
He sighed, shaking his head. “I have no clue. I’m still reeling about what she did. The whole thing.”
“Did she actually sleep with him?”
He shook his head again. “I have no clue. I can’t bring myself to ask, and I should. Makes me feel like a coward. But the thought—just the thought of any of it… Why didn’t she come to us for help? We could’ve done something. Anything. Her having to do what she did, that shouldn’t have even been on the plate.”
“Did Cross tell you what his brother told him?”
Jordan nodded, a hard laugh ripping from him. “That fuck’s back in the frat house. And what? We’re going to fight an entire frat house, to get them to kick someone out? That’s not what we do. We handle ourselves. That’s what we do, but Tab—she didn’t even come to us. She didn’t come to me.”
“I know.”
He raised a hand, rubbing at his forehead. “The funny thing is that at the end of this, I think Tab and I are done. She made that decision, and she’s not asked to come back to me, but Zellman?” He nodded his head upwards, toward the house. “He’s up there fucking some girl. He’s been out, making friends everywhere, and he’s the one I bet is going to get back with his girl.”
Wait. What?
“Sunday?”
He nodded. “He calls her every night.”
I leaned forward, my mouth falling open. “Every night?”
“Almost every night, or a text just to check in. He’s doing it for me, asking about Tabatha, but he’s asking about her, too. The baby. She still hasn’t given birth.”
Right.
Drake’s kid.
My ex’s kid. My ex who was in prison, and to our knowledge, is still alive. And that caused my stomach to clench.
“So, Sunday and Zellman, huh?”
He nodded. “Yep. I think so.”
I squinted at him, cocking my head to the side. “A hundred bucks says they don’t.”
Jordan’s head whipped back to mine, his eyes widening. “What?”
“You heard me.”
But his grin was slowly spreading. “You’re on, because I know my boy, and he’s going to end up married to her.”
I groaned. “Let’s hope not.”
He laughed, then tipped his chin up toward me. “Heading to work?”
“Yeah.”
“You nervous?”
“Yeah.”
He chuckled while standing just as I did. We both grabbed our coffees. “You’ll be fine, Bren. You always are. You’re our stronghold, you know.”
Cross mentioned something similar, but I never really considered it. I didn’t know what to think of that, to be honest, so I just grinned, ducking my head, and we went back inside. Jordan put his coffee away, then headed back to his room. I was pouring my own coffee into a travel mug when I heard more footsteps coming from the living area.
“Hey.”
It was Cross, and he was yawning. Tired lines were around his eyes, his hair was messed up, what there was to actually be messed up, and he was only wearing boxers. His chest was stark and more lean than normal. Jesus. I loved him. I slept with him. I was now living with him, but I forgot sometimes how hot he was. He was reaching for the coffee when he caught me checking him out.
He smirked. “Trust me, you don’t have time for round five, unless you want to be late for work.”
I flushed, the back of my neck getting warm. “Shut up.”
He laughed.
I stepped away, but he hooked a finger in my pants and pulled me to him. My back hit his chest and he leaned forward, catching my ear. His finger moved around to the front and dipped inside there, too. “Call me if you get a bad feeling at work, okay? I’ll be there for you.”
I nodded, my breath catching in my throat.
His hand was moving down under my underwear, and his mouth started moving on my ear, then my jawline, then moving farther down to my throat. He swept my hair aside, his mouth exploring back there, and I was full on sagging against him, just as his fingers began to rub over my clit.
“Cross,” I moaned.
“Jesus.” His arm tightened as his fingers dipped inside of me, thrusting upwards.
I gasped, and then he growled, turning me in his arms. His fingers stayed inside, acting like a pivot and then I was up in his arms and he was carrying me to our room. “You’re going to be late for work.”
He kicked the door shut, dropping me onto the bed and coming right down with me.
That was totally fine with me.