All Chapters of My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

MIA The pool was louder than the lake.Ryan wanted it that way. He threw the ball first, hard enough that it slapped the water near Clara and made her shriek, then laugh.“That’s not a throw,” she said. “That’s an attack.”“It’s a game,” Ryan answered. “Keep up.”Jake was already in the deep end, hair wet, shoulders out of the water. He didn’t show off the way Ryan did. He just waited, easy, like the pool belonged to people who used their bodies for work.I stayed nearer the wall at first.“Mia,” Ryan called. “Don’t decorate the edge. Come in.”“I am in.”“You’re standing. That’s cheating.”Clara swam closer, ball under one arm. “He’s right. If I have to suffer, you have to suffer.”I pushed off the wall. The water was colder than it looked. My swimsuit felt too tight and not tight enough at the same time. I had spent too many mornings in this house watching Clara’s body next to Jake’s. In the pool it was worse. She moved light. I moved careful.Ryan noticed and grinned. “See? You ca

MIARyan didn’t put me down until the bedroom door clicked shut behind us, the latch catching soft and final, like it was sealing away the whole world downstairs. Even then, his hands stayed at my waist a moment longer than they needed to, warm and firm through the wet fabric of my swimsuit, like he was checking I was still solid, still there, before he let me go.My swimsuit had soaked straight through his shirt, darkening the cotton all down his chest and arms, and I could feel the dampness seep into his skin where we’d been pressed together. My calf still twitched — not locked up tight the way it had been out in the pool, that sharp, blinding spasm that had seized so fast I hadn’t even had time to call out — but it ached deep, a dull, throbbing soreness that pulsed with every beat of my heart, heavy and stupid, like the muscle had forgotten how to behave. He set me carefully on the edge of the bed, my bare feet dangling just above the floor, then turned and grabbed a thick, fold

MIADinner was supposed to fix the day. That was the unspoken thing, wasn’t it? The way Ryan stacked the firewood neat and sharp, the way he lit the kindling like nothing had happened out by the pool — like I hadn’t gone under, like he hadn’t carried me upstairs, like we hadn’t stood in our bedroom tearing at the seams of everything we’d built. He arranged the meat on the grill slow and careful, tongs moving steady, smoke curling up into the fading gold of the evening sky, thick and sweet and smelling like summer. He set plates out on the wooden table, silverware lined up straight, like order could smooth over every jagged thing that had happened since lunch. His mother poured wine into crystal glasses, talking soft and easy about the lake, about how the water had been so calm at sunrise, about maybe going out early tomorrow before the wind picked up — all bright, all light, like she was holding her breath too, waiting for the cracks to show. Jake stood beside him at the grill, q

MIAClara did not let the table go quiet. She stepped right into the heavy, suspended silence like she was doing us all a favor, like she could smooth over the sharp edges just by speaking up. “Then she should go back to the gym,” she said, bright and certain, like she’d just cracked the whole thing wide open and found the perfect solution. “I can go with her. Be her workout buddy. That way it’s not awkward at all, right? We can go together, do our own things, keep each other company. It’ll be fun.” She said it like we were planning a coffee run, not handing me back the very thing Ryan had used as a weapon, the very thing that had already tangled us all up so tight none of us could breathe.Ryan’s mother nodded slow and approving, like Clara had just spoken pure sense. “That is a very good idea. Walking is not enough, not if you want a truly healthy pregnancy later. You need proper strength, proper conditioning. You need someone guiding you, someone who knows what they’re doing. T

MIA I could not sleep. The darkness pressed in heavy and thick, like the walls had leaned closer once the lights went out. Beside me, Ryan was on his side of the bed, breathing even and deep, one arm thrown out across the sheets like every word at dinner had settled something restless inside him. Grandchild. Weight. Gym with Clara. That kiss, slow and deliberate, pressed to my mouth right there at the table — for Jake to see, for everyone to see, like he was hanging a sign over my head. The house had swallowed all of it whole, swallowed the tension and the hurt and the quiet rebellion, and gone dead quiet around us. Ryan slept like he’d won something. I lay there wide awake, eyes burning, every breath feeling like it cost too much. My mouth was dry, desert-dry, like I’d been breathing dust for hours. I shifted careful, inch by inch, so the mattress wouldn’t creak, wouldn’t give me away. The sheets were cool but my skin felt tight, overheated, like the air in the room w