Unfinished Ex (Calloway Brothers, #2)(3)

“Still, it couldn’t hurt if you talk to him. You’ve always been the sensible, brainy one of the three of us.”

“Brainy? You think because I teach horny adolescents all day that I’m brainy? You’re the one who’s kicking ass at his own business.”

“He lived with me for a month, Jax. Never listened to a word I said. Tuned me out whenever I tried to get him to move back home.”

“What makes you think I’d have more luck?”

He shrugs. “Power in numbers, bro. I’ve got Addy working on him, too. Few people can deny our little sister.”

“Fine. I’ll see if he wants to crash here. But I’m not going to force him to talk about anything he doesn’t want to talk about.”

“Fair enough.” He heads for the door. “Eight o’clock.”

I wave a hand after him. Then I look at the envelope from across the room, deciding I’m not going to open it. I won’t give her that satisfaction.

“Come on, Heisman. Let’s go watch the game.”

He follows dutifully as I grab a cold beer and plop onto the couch. It only takes one swallow to know I’m going to need something much stronger.



~



“The first round is on me,” Lissa says, serving us a tray of shots.

My brothers chuckle knowing Lissa has been after me since elementary school. She knows why we’re here. Everyone does. When we arrived, Tag pushed open the pub doors and announced to the entire establishment that my divorce was final. And despite the fact that I’ve been dating Calista — kind of—for the past six months, Lissa seems to think there is renewed hope.

I lift my shot glass. “Thanks, Liss.”

She goes back to waitressing but is always looking over when she passes.

“Tell me again why you never went there?” Cooper asks.

“She’s too short,” Tag says. “And she’s got small tits.”

I roll my eyes. “Her tits are fine. Breasts are breasts, man. As long as you can grab a handful, who the hell cares how big they are? And she’s not too short. She’s just… not my type.”

Donny, the owner of the pub, comes over with a shot and a smile. He places the whiskey in front of me. “Cheers to Jaxon Calloway,” he says boisterously. “The happiest time in any man’s life is right after his first divorce.”

Everyone at the surrounding tables laughs as I swallow the drink, playing along.

“I don’t know,” Tag says. “I’m pretty damn happy right now, and divorced is not something I plan on being.”

“You think I planned this?” I bite. “You think I went into my marriage anticipating this would happen?”

“Maybe you should have,” Cooper says. “She never made a secret of her career aspirations. I don’t see why it would have come as a surprise that the woman wanted to go to Oklahoma and chase tornadoes.”

“Because he thought it wasn’t true,” Tag says. “Or that chasing tornadoes was a metaphor.”

I shake my head. “I knew she loved the weather. And I knew chances were she wouldn’t get to follow her dreams if we stayed here in Calloway Creek. I guess I just thought—”

“You thought you’d get married, spout out a couple of kids, and her priorities would change.”

“I don’t know.” I trace the rim of the shot glass. “Fuck.”

Tag gets Lissa’s attention. “My recently single brother here needs more alcohol.” He turns to me.

“We’re supposed to be celebrating, not mourning, Jax.”

Then why does this whole day feel like a fucking wake? “Yeah, I know.”

A woman I don’t recognize stops at our table. “Calloway? As in Calloway Creek? Does your family own this town?”

My brothers and I share a look. We’re so tired of answering this question that we’ve considered changing our last name more than once over the years. “No, ma’am, we don’t. Google the town name along with the name Lloyd McQuaid. It’ll tell you everything you need to know about the infamous bet.”

“As in who the rightful owners are,” Hunter McQuaid shouts from the bar.

“Fuck you and your derelict brothers,” Tag says in his usual eloquent manner.

Hunter salutes Tag with his middle finger. It’s a back-and-forth we’ve perfected with the McQuaid brothers over the years. Our family feud belongs to our ancestors, but I think we keep it going for sport.

Calista and her friends walk into the pub and take a booth across the room. She doesn’t see me.

Any normal guy who has been kind-of-sort-of dating a woman would go over and greet her.

“Didn’t your girlfriend just walk in?” Cooper asks.

“Calista is not my girlfriend.”

“Word has it you’ve been seen out at restaurants. At sporting events at the high school. At her apartment.” He cocks his head. “You’re fucking, no?”

“Just because we go out and have sex does not make her my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” Tag asks.

“She does.”

“A hundred bucks says she’s going to want a commitment after she hears about your new status.”