are definitely holding themselves back from keeping score and from jumping on every mistake. I wonder if they've made a decision to show me unity between themselves or if they just thought individually that bickering would make me concerned about the viability of us forming this crazy bond.
I'm sweaty, and my heart is pounding, but I feel fit and free. I laugh when Hunter misses three in a row and chuckle even more when he gets a grumpy face. Hanging out with my foster brothers is so much fun.
After we're done playing, exhausted from all the exertion, we head inside to grab a glass of water each. I shower and dress in my pj's, returning to Hunter and Harley's room to put my toiletries away. They're both there, clean and fresh smelling, relaxing on their beds.
"Hey," Harley says, dropping his phone to the comforter, all attention focused on me. His brother does the same. "Wanna hang out with us?"
"Sure." My heart flutters as I busy myself, tidying my possessions while I inhale deep, steadying breaths. This doesn't have to be anything more than what they said—hanging out. Getting to know each other, but my mind drifts over how amazing Hunter looked in the yard wearing his shorts and fitted shirt. When he got really hot and sweaty and stripped off his top… well, I thought I might pass out. And Harley too. They're identical in every physical attribute that I've had the pleasure of seeing.
When I turn, I'm faced with the decision of where to sit. A nightstand separates their beds, so I have to choose just one. That feels like favoritism. Just as I'm about to meltdown from the stress, Harley pats the bed next to him. I glance at Hunter expecting a reaction, but there's none.
It's odd to slide onto the warm comforter next to Harley. I've held this man's hand, and he's comforted me at one of my saddest moments. We've laughed and joked, shared a meal, watched a movie, but these are all small things when it comes to knowing someone's heart and mind.
"We've got a game on Friday," Harley says. "Want to come?"
"Sure." I prop myself up on his pillows and cross my legs. "What position do you play?"
"Wide receiver and Hunter plays fullback."
"Offensive," I say, nodding. They have that air about them, confidence, and a need to be on the front foot.
"Logan's the starting quarterback. Sean plays quarterback too. Coach switches them out. I think if they weren't brothers, it would be an issue for them, but as it stands, all it does is create match-up issues for the defense."
"You got any injuries, playing? It looks so dangerous."
"Hunter broke his ankle a couple of years ago, but it's healed up okay. Dad insisted that he rest it well."
"He kept me out of the game for too long."
"But it was worth it. You don't know what your ankle would be like now if Coach had gotten away with playing you sooner."
Hunter shrugs. "There's no point arguing about the past, is there?"
"No point in dwelling on the past either," Harley says.
"What happens when there are things that are unresolved?" I ask.
Harley's hand finds mine, enveloping my fingers in his warm palm. "There are always going to be parts of our lives that remain unresolved. That's just how life is. We won't ever get to find out why our mom wasn't strong enough to keep us with her. We both found it challenging to accept the change. It was your dad who told us that holding on to hurt from the past only serves to ruin the present. He helped us write down what we were struggling with, then we set the pages alight and watched all our worries burn away. I know it was symbolic. They didn't really disappear with the flames, but it helped. We let everything go. We found a way to look forward rather than back."
"I feel like that is what I need to do right now," I say. "Things weren't great at home. I messed up with the pregnancy and going back there… it's like my shame is going to carry over to the baby."
"This can be a new start," Harley says softly. His thumb brushes my knuckles, and I close my eyes with the sensation.
"A new start," I repeat softly.
"A new start for all of us," Hunter says.
The bed shifts as Harley turns to kiss me. His lips are soft, but the weight of him behind them is powerful. My hand