“Aiden.” I drop back to earth in my chair.
My brother-in-law stands with his back to the low, glowing sun, shielding baby Theo from its light. He looks wiped and also dreamily happy. His thick, black nerd-frame glasses do nothing to hide his exhaustion, the half-moon shadows beneath his vivid blue eyes. Unshaven, he has dark, wavy hair just like Linnea’s, though streaks of silver now sparkle at his temples. His hair’s a little flat on one side, like he fell asleep on it that way and never fixed it when he woke up.
He smiles tiredly. “I had a feeling you could use another round of baby snuggles.”
I smile back, opening my arms and accepting Theo, who’s swaddled tight in a soft cream-colored blanket, a matching cap snug over his fuzzy white-blond hair. He fusses for a moment, then settles as I tuck him inside the crook of my arm and sway him with a steady rhythm. Aiden plops down in the seat beside me with a groan and slouches until his head falls back.
“Goodnight,” he mutters.
“Uh-huh,” I tell him. “Your true intentions are revealed.”
His eyes slip shut. “Just, like, five minutes. That’s all I need.”
Aiden’s snoring within seconds, which makes Viggo chuckle. He stands, grabs a piece of lettuce from Axel’s plate, and is about to tickle Aiden’s nose with it, but Axel slaps the lettuce out of his hand.
“Sit your ass down, Carrot Man,” Axel tells him. “Leave him alone. He’s exhausted.”
Viggo pouts. “But it would be so good—”
“Viggo.” Axel arches an eyebrow. “Sleep-deprived parents of newborns are off-limits.”
“You joining the ranks?” I ask, half teasing, half curious.
Axel throws me a sharp glance. “I can barely stand to share Rooney with the dog, let alone a baby. Give me some time.”
“No one’s fun anymore,” Viggo grumbles, throwing a sour glance at Axel, then drawing a mass-market paperback historical romance from his back pocket when he glances my way and I don’t back him up. I’m too busy staring down at Theo, his perfect, tiny face scrunched in a thoughtful frown. Or maybe he’s about to unload in his diaper.
Either way, he looks adorably grumpy.
Which reminds me of another grump, though one who is far less adorable. More like aggravating. And there goes my mood, in a nosedive.
“Stop scowling at the baby,” Ren says around a bite of roll as he joins the table. After dusting crumbs off his hands, he reaches toward me. “C’mon. I want a turn.”
“Fine,” I sigh, letting him take Theo.
Viggo drops his book long enough to glance over at Ren, who’s the biggest baby-lover ever.
Ren strokes a finger along Theo’s cheek and sighs wistfully. “He’s so tiny.”
“Something I think Freya is very grateful for,” Viggo quips, eyes back on his book.
Ryder shows up next, carrying his stainless-steel water canteen and a plate piled high with food. He plops next to Ren and peers down at Theo, smiling.
I glance around. And realize my fears have been confirmed.
“Viggo Frederik Bergman.”
Viggo doesn’t look up from his book. “Present and accounted for.”
“You sent the bat signal, you asshole.”
Ren gasps and cups a hand around Theo’s ear. “A child is present. Watch your language.”
I glower at Viggo. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Huh?” Ryder says, pointing to his ear. Since his freshman year of college, when he came down with bacterial meningitis, he’s had severe and moderate hearing loss in his left and right ears, respectively. While his hearing aids allow him to hear much more, and we’ve learned as a family how to communicate considerately and effectively with him, it’s still not uncommon for Ryder to ask us to repeat ourselves.
I tell him, “I was saying, I told Viggo I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ryder leans in, looking confused. “Talk about what?”
“About my pain-in-the-ass teammate and neighbor, Gavin—oh shit!” God, I’m so gullible. Groaning, I slump down in my seat and scrub my face.
“Ollie.” Ryder clucks his tongue. “Sorry, my brother. You walked right into that.”
Viggo beams at him. “I bow down to your greatness.”
“You’re such dicks,” I mutter inside my hands.
“Actually,” Ren says diplomatically, “they’re just being resourceful. We don’t have much time before we all go our separate ways, and you’re clearly in need of—"
I groan as they say in unison, “A Bergman Brothers Summit.”
The backyard is silent but for a few birds chirping up in the lemon tree and Aiden’s rhythmic snores.
I just told them what happened on the field with Gavin, the gist of our confrontation in the locker room, and the details of what Coach said in her office. I left out the part where our mouths were millimeters away in the locker room and later on, in his kitchen, when things went from bad to worse on that front.
I simply cannot stand to admit that I almost kissed someone who’s been such an ass to me.
Ren paces the yard, bouncing Theo because he started fussing and the movement keeps him asleep. “That son of a—” He stops himself as he peers down at the baby, then pivots to his usual swearing alternative, Shakespearean oaths: “Pigeon-livered canker blossom!”
Ryder folds his arms across his chest. “He sounds like a jerk.”
“Agreed,” Axel mutters.
“The damage I could do…” Viggo glares into the middle distance, wearing the familiar expression of a man plotting deep, terrible mischief.
I smile faintly, buoyed by their heartfelt defense of me. “He’s not the easiest person to play with…or co-captain with. But I’ll figure out how to handle it.”
“How?” Ryder asks honestly. “He sounds impossible.”
“Your coach shouldn’t have roped you into that ultimatum,” Ren says, keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake Theo. “Gavin’s the one who was out of line.”
“I mean, I did shove him first.”
“After he’s been awful to you for two years,” Ryder points out.
Ren nods in agreement, a rare flash of anger in his eyes. “Coach shouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”
“That was the first time he’s ever gone off on me like that, though. Generally what she sees is my kill-him-with-kindness routine and his grumpy gruffing. In her eyes, our antagonism has been mutual, rather than his responsibility, which…” I sigh. “Is sort of fair. He definitely started it, but I’ve done my best to make him just as miserable when I realized he didn’t like me. He’s never humiliated me in front of the team. Usually, he plays fair, leaves me alone—basically ignores me—but it’s just that when we do interact, one-on-one, he’s so—”
“Cold,” Viggo says, thoughtfully.
“Yeah.”
“Ollie.” He turns toward me. “Obviously, much as we’d like to, none of us can afford the legal fees for beating up this guy who’s treated you like crap.”
“Though it’s awfully tempting,” Ryder grumbles.
Axel nods.
Aiden snores loudly.
Ren lifts Theo’s little fist, which has worked out of his swaddle, and mimes a right hook.
“I know that,” I tell them all. “I appreciate the sentiment.”
“But,” Viggo says, eyes lighting up as he sets his hand on my neck and squeezes gently.
“But…what?”
“You want the dynamic to change,” he says. “Right?”
I glance between my brothers, no idea where this is going. “Yes,” I say slowly.
“And being nice hasn’t changed anything, has it? Your kill-him-with-kindness method, it’s almost like it’s backfired.”
Ryder’s eyes widen. “Oh shit.”
“Hey.” Ren covers Theo’s ear again. “Language. But also, yes, Viggo. You are absolutely right.”
“Right? What?” I blink at them, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Viggo’s logic,” Axel says, “is that if being kind hasn’t changed how he treats you, perhaps being unkind will.”
Viggo beams at our oldest brother. “You read that enemies-to-lovers that I sent, didn’t you?”
Axel sniffs, fiddling with a loose button on his plaid flannel shirt. “I might have.”
“What are you talking about?” I half yell.
“Shh!” they chide me, gesturing toward Theo, who squawks at my noise, then settles back in Ren’s arms.
“You refuse to read romance novels anymore,” Viggo says. “So you wouldn’t understand.”
“Well, then that’s supremely helpful.”
Viggo shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you. Everyone else here has seen the light and followed in my path of romance-reading brilliance.”
Axel rolls his eyes. “Brilliance is a bit of a stretch.”
“I’m sorry, is or is not your life undoubtedly richer because of the books I gave you to read?”
Axel grumbles under his breath and bites into a roll.
“No offense,” I tell them, staring down at my hands. “Romance novels just aren’t for me. I’m happy they make you happy, but…”