All Chapters of My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

MIAI still had his wrist in my hand when the words left my mouth.“Don’t play with me. I’m done with you.”Jake didn’t pull away. He turned his hand and held mine instead, loose enough that I could have broken it if I meant the sentence as much as I wanted to.“Then why are you shaking?” he asked.“Because your mother is in the pantry.”“That’s not why.” His voice stayed low. “You said you were done. People who are done don’t look at me like I stole something.”I let go of him. “I looked at you like a man who made a mess in my house and then brought a fiancée to sit in it.”“She’s not my fiancée yet.”“That’s not the point.”Jake glanced at the kitchen door, then back at me. “So explain the point. If it was never serious, why are you acting like this?”The dining room felt too small. Ryan’s empty chair sat between us. The salad bowl was still on the table. I could hear plates in the pantry, his mother counting them like the night was normal.“I’m acting like a person who got used,” I

MIAThe call came after his mother had gone to bed.I was already in the guest room with the door locked. Not because Ryan had told me to sleep there. Because I could still feel the wall on my back. Jake’s mouth. My wrists over my head. One footstep from being seen.Ryan’s name filled the screen.I watched it ring once. Then again. Part of me wanted to let it die. He was in another city. He could wait. Then I thought about him coming home tomorrow and asking why I didn’t pick up, and I answered.He was in a hotel room. White pillows. City light behind thin curtains. His tie was gone. The top buttons of his shirt were open. He looked looser than he did in this house. Hungrier too.“There you are,” he said. “I thought you were going to ignore me.”“I was about to shower.”“Don’t. Stay where I can see you.” He settled back against the headboard and smiled like we were in a good mood. “How’s the house?”“Quiet. Your mom went to bed.”“Good.” His eyes moved over my face, then lower, as far

MIARyan came home in a good mood.That should have been a relief. It was not. He kissed my cheek in the doorway like the hotel call had fixed us, put his bag down, and told his mother the trip went well. She fussed. He smiled. I stood there with last night still on my skin and the guest-room lamp still in my head.“You look tired,” he said to me in the kitchen.“I didn’t sleep much.”“Then you’ll sleep in our room tonight.” He squeezed my waist, pleasant in front of his mother. “I already told you that.”Dinner was set for five.Jake arrived first. He said hello to his mother, nodded at Ryan, and looked at me once, unreadable. I sat down before that look could turn into anything. Ryan took the chair beside me and kept his hand near my back like he had never left.Clara arrived ten minutes later in a pale dress, hair smooth, voice easy. She thanked Ryan for including her. She asked his mother about the roast. She sat next to Jake like the seat had already been assigned.I passed the b

MIAThe lake house looked bigger from the driveway than it felt inside.Ryan’s mother went straight to the kitchen and started opening cabinets like she had been here a hundred times. Clara set her bag down by the stairs. Jake carried the rest without being asked. I stood in the living room with lake light on the floor and counted doors.Four bedrooms.Ryan opened them one by one, talking while he did it.“This one’s ours,” he said, pointing to the corner room with the view. “Mom can take the one next to it.”His mother nodded from the hall. “Close to the bathroom. Good. I don’t want to walk through the whole house at night.”The third room was fine. A real bed. A window. Enough space for a suitcase and a person who wanted a door that shut.The last door stuck. Ryan shoved it with his shoulder. Inside was barely a room. A narrow twin. Slanted ceiling. No space to walk around the bed.He laughed. “That’s a closet with a mattress.”Clara leaned in, polite. “I can take it. I don’t mind s

MIA I woke up before Ryan and went to the kitchen anyway. The lake house was quiet in that early way. Wood floors. Water hitting the dock. Through the window I could see his mother already by the pool with tea and a newspaper, sunglasses on, like this was the family trip she had packed for. Ryan found me at the stove a few minutes later, still in a T-shirt, hair messy from sleep. “You’re cooking,” he said. “Someone has to. Your mom’s outside.” “I can help.” He came up behind me and put his hands on my hips like last night’s talk had given him a key. “Eggs or pancakes?” “Eggs. Pancakes take too long and she’ll come in asking why breakfast isn’t ready.” He kissed the side of my neck. “You’re bossy in the morning.” “I’m busy.” I kept the pan moving. “And she can see the window if she turns around.” “She’s reading.” His mouth stayed near my skin. “You said we’d fix it. This is me trying.” I should have leaned into that. Part of me did. In the dark he had said he loved me. He ha