After a few beats, Nichole meets me in the doorway. “Should I assume we’ll be staying in tonight?”
My eyes well up as I nod. “Yeah.” Because Ryot is right, I would never disrespect him by fucking another man while I’m still married. You can’t do that to the man you love. Even if your soul feels so broken.
Chapter Six
RYOT
Seven years ago . . .
“This was not a good idea,” I say as we finally make it to our reserved bar-top table. From the moment I entered the well-known Chicago pub that runs the best trivia nights in the city, it’s been a goddamn parade. And sure, I’m grateful for all the love, especially since Bobbies fans can be so brutal if you’re not performing, but I’ve been spotted several times. Not to mention the rival team to the Bobbies, the Rebels, also have rabid fans who are more than willing to bring you down in any way possible. I’ve heard a few comments from them as well.
Mostly, “Bisley, you suck!”
Now that I’ve gained popularity in the city and have a regular spot on the roster with the third-best batting average on the team, just falling short to Walker Rockwell and Knox Gentry, I’m well known throughout the city, which makes it very hard to do public things, like trivia night with Banner.
“It’s fine.” Banner takes a seat on one of the stools. “You just had to get in here. Now everything is normal.” Banner stares at the menu, not noticing the hundreds of camera phones pointed at us.
“Dude, look around,” I say through a smile. “Everyone is recording us.”
“Well, then refrain from picking your nose, as you don’t want to be caught doing that.” He sets the drink menu down and smiles. “Seriously, just relax. It will be crazy for the first ten minutes, but once trivia night starts, everyone will be so focused on beating you that it won’t matter.”
“Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.” He taps the drink menu. “They have that IPA you like. Are you going to drink tonight?”
“I’ll have one,” I say because I know Banner has planned this night to spend some time with me. With my schedule and his busy job coding apps, we haven’t seen much of each other lately. When he asked me to go to trivia night with him, I knew I had to say yes.
“One drink? Living large, man,” he teases.
Banner flags down a server, orders us each a drink and burgers with fries, and then picks up the laminated list of rules for trivia night.
“Have you done this before?” I ask.
“No, just heard about it from the guy down the hall.”
“Which guy?” I ask. Banner and I share an apartment in the heart of Chicago. It’s a two-bedroom with a decent living space. There are many people on our floor, and since Banner works from home, coding God knows what for companies, he has gotten to know our neighbors.
“Jetson.”
“Jetson?” I ask. “That’s his name?”
“Ehh, no, but he looks like George Jetson, so that’s what I call him. I actually don’t know his real name, but we talk in the elevator. He told me about trivia night here. Actually”—Banner perks his head up and looks around—“he might have come tonight. I saw him this morning and told him we were attending.”
“Hey, are your other two teammates arriving soon?” a man with a long fire-red beard asks. He’s sporting a backward hat and a plaid shirt and holding a mic in his hand that’s turned off.
“Uh, what?” I ask. “It’s just us.” I motion to Banner.
“This is four-person trivia night.”
“Oh, shit, really?” Banner asks. Then he leans toward me and whispers, “A minor detail Jetson left out.”
“Are we able to play with two?” I ask.
“No, but don’t worry, we have another pair who need a team as well, so we’ll send them over here.”
“Aces,” Banner says with a thumbs-up, looking like a total dick. I know he’s doing it in an ironic way, but he still looks stupid.
When the trivia host leaves, I turn to Banner. “Why don’t we just find another place? We can just hang out and have a drink.”
“No way, I ordered garlic tater tots. I’m not leaving until every one of them is in my belly.”
“Okay then.” I don’t put up too much of a fight because Banner planned this, and I know he’s been missing me. Playing professional baseball has definitely changed things. Don’t get me wrong, I love it and wouldn’t trade it for anything, but it’s demanding. I’m either playing a night game, I’m out of town, or I’m training. It doesn’t leave much time for brotherly bonding.
The server drops off our drinks, and just as I pick up mine to take a sip, the host comes back and says, “Here are your other two teammates. They’ve already picked a name for your team. Bisley’s Balls.”
A chill races up my spine as the host steps out of the way, and Myla steps forward with her friend Nichole.
What the actual fuck?
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bisley Balls,” she says with a large smile.
“Holy shit, Myla, what are you doing here?” I ask while I hop off my stool and step up to her. Unsure of what to do, I extend my hand out for a handshake but then also go in for a hug and end up poking her in the belly with my fingers. “Fuck, sorry,” I say as she chuckles.
“What are you trying to do there, killer?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I pull on my neck. “Didn’t know if I should shake your hand or hug you, or . . . hell, I don’t know.”
“Let us show you how it’s done,” Nichole says right before she walks up to Banner, slips her hand to the back of his head, and gives him an open-mouthed kiss. Of course, my very single and horny brother receives her hello with open arms. When Nichole pulls away, she wets her lips and says, “We’ll be heading to the bathroom later.”
“You just tell me when, babe.”
Seems like no time has been lost between them despite the few years that have gone by.
Still confused about why I’m seeing Myla, I ask again, “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean? Trivia night of course.”
“No, in Chicago,” I say as Nichole takes a seat next to Banner and starts running her hand through his hair. Doubt there will be any brotherly time spent tonight now.
“Oh . . .” Myla pulls her stool toward mine and takes a seat. “I live here now.”
“You . . . you live here?” I ask, shocked. I take a seat too. And just as she’s done before, Myla steals my drink and starts sipping on it. “Did you just move?”
“No. I’ve been here for about a year now. Nichole got a job out here with a major tech company, and my parents live just north of Barrington now that they’re retired from the Air Force, so I thought what the hell, I’ll move too.”
“Wait, so you’ve been here for a year, and you didn’t think to message me?”
She just shrugs. “If our paths crossed, then they crossed.” She smirks. “And looks like that happened.” She sets my beer down, pulls out her phone, and takes a picture of it. “This is being listed as a beer belonging to a baller.”