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061

Billie Patsy
last update Veröffentlichungsdatum: 03.09.2026 10:36:34

MIA

I told Ryan I was going to the store.

It was a bad lie. I still used it.

The gym parking lot looked the same as the mornings I used to come before opening. Same glass doors. Same black mats visible from the sidewalk. My hands stayed on the wheel for a full minute after I parked.

Don’t text me at the house.

That was all Jake had given me. Not a denial. Not Clara’s name. Nothing I could hold.

So I got out of the car.

The front desk was not empty. Sophie was there in a cropped ja
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  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   121

    MIAI shoved him off me, palms hard against his chest, putting just enough space between us to breathe — or to try to. It was barely a foot, nothing really; he could have stepped right back in, closed the gap in a single movement, pulled me against him again like nothing had shifted. He didn’t. He stood there, hands loose at his sides, watching me, waiting, and that stillness unsettled me more than if he’d grabbed me back.“It was sex,” I said, sharp and loud in the quiet room, the words tasting like ash but I said them anyway. “That’s all this was. That’s all it is. So stop talking like I matter. Don’t make it complicated, Jake. Don’t give me names and feelings and things that aren’t real.”His mouth tipped upward, not a smile — something sharper, darker, a challenge laid bare. “You think that’s going to work on me? Pushing me away like I’m someone you can scare off?”“It’s the truth.” My voice shook just a little, and I hated it. “You said it first. Remember? In the pool. You sai

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   120

    JAKE The car slowed at the stoplight, red stretching long ahead of us, and Clara’s voice cut through the quiet before I could change lanes. “Jake.” “Yeah.” I kept my eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel. “I want to work out with Mia.” My grip tightened on the wheel. “She said she wouldn’t go back to the gym. You heard her.” “I know. That’s why I’m asking you.” She turned fully toward me in the passenger seat, voice even, reasonable, the way she always was when she’d thought everything through. “Be our trainer. At my house. I’ve got that spare room — enough floor space, mirrors, everything. It wouldn’t be public.” “I have members.” The light turned green and I accelerated too fast. “People who pay. People who count on me being there.” “You can move two hours. Shift your schedule around.” “Clara, I can’t just leave the floor every time someone wants a private session in a living room. That’s not how running a business works.” She didn’t snap. Clara never snapped. Her t

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   119

    JAKE The restaurant was the kind of place Clara liked — soft lighting that didn’t show lines, tables spaced far enough apart that conversations stayed private, linen napkins folded neat, a menu small enough to make every choice feel special. I pushed through the glass door and spotted her right away, near the window, already seated, hair pulled back smooth and polished, dress fresh and pressed, that practiced smile in place like she’d been holding it since she arrived. She checked her watch as I walked over. “You’re late,” she said, and the smile didn’t falter, but there was an edge underneath it, light and familiar. “Traffic.” I pulled out the chair across from her and sat down fast, like I could catch up just by being here. “You always say traffic.” I rested my arms on the table, then pulled them back quick, dropping my hands into my lap. “Tonight it was true. Main road was backed up for miles.” A waiter appeared before she could reply, poured water into two stemmed glasses

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   118

    JAKEMom went inside to start dinner, the screen door closing soft behind her, leaving me and Ryan alone by the pool. The water rippled slow in the evening breeze, catching the last of the sunlight, and the invitation was still in his hand — white card, gold letters, his name and Lena’s printed like they’d been meant to be all along. The air felt tight, charged, like a storm waiting to break.“You’re a coward,” I said. The words came out before I could stop them, sharp and hot, sitting right between us.He turned his head slow and looked at me, like I’d just told him something funny. “For what?”“For sitting there and letting her say it.” My voice didn’t lift. It hardened, every word deliberate. “Mia dumped you for another man. That’s the story you handed her. You nodded right along while she built it. You let her call her that girl. You let her make Mia the villain without opening your mouth once to say what actually happened.”Ryan laughed — quiet, dry, ugly, no humor in it at al

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   117

    JAKE The air smelled like chlorine and cut grass when I stepped out the back door, evening settling soft over the yard, and the first thing I saw was the white card in Ryan’s hand. Gold lettering catching the last of the sun, crisp and perfect, exactly the kind of thing my mother would fuss over for months. She sat in the wicker chair beside him, hands folded in her lap, smiling like they’d been discussing something wonderful. The invitation was already in Ryan’s hand when I walked out to the pool. “Jake,” she said, bright and pleased, like my arrival was a nice surprise instead of something she’d been waiting for. “You didn’t say you were coming.” “I didn’t plan it.” My eyes were fixed on that card, on the gold script that shimmered too bright. I walked down the steps slow, grass soft under my shoes. “Whose wedding is that?” Ryan turned it so I could see the names clear. Not Clara’s. Not mine. His. And Lena’s. Side by side, centered, elegant, like they’d always belonged there

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   116

    MIA The key turned in the lock and I pushed the door open slow, bracing myself for silence — or worse, for it to be empty again. Instead I saw him. Jake was already in the apartment when I stepped inside, keys tossed onto the kitchen counter like they’d been there a while, shoes lined neat by the door, hoodie draped over the back of the chair. He’d been waiting long enough to get comfortable with the quiet, long enough for the air to feel heavy and held, like he’d been listening for my footsteps for an hour. He looked up the second I shut the door. “Where have you been?” I leaned back against it, shoulders sagging just a little, the weight of the afternoon settling in. “Out.” “That’s not an answer.” He didn’t move from where he stood, arms crossed, gaze steady on me, unblinking. “That’s the sound of running away.” “I needed fresh air.” My voice sounded thinner than I wanted it to. “I was walking. Looking around. That’s all.” He looked at me the way he looked at a bad rep in th

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