LOVING MY BROTHER'S RIVAL

Chapter 1 “You have to choose. Me or Shane?” Jonathan had never shouted at me like this before. Not when I broke curfew in high school, not when I crashed his truck into the mailbox, and not even when Mom died, and I locked myself in the bathroom for six hours. But tonight, he was furious. He stood in the middle of the living room, his fists clenched. We had spent two summers ago refinishing the floor together. The house still smelled faintly of motor oil and the lemon polish he used every Sunday. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I knew I had messed up, but facing the consequences was harder than I had expected. “Jonathan—” “Don't.” He rubbed his face with one hand. The tattoos on his forearm were familiar, especially the Loud Rangers ink. The club had given him a place to belong when he had nowhere else to turn to. “I didn't believe it at first,” he continued. “Not until last night, when I saw you on his bike with my own eyes.” Three months. That was how long I had been seeing Shane. Three months of late-night rides, deleted messages, and excuses whenever Jonathan asked where I had been. I had promised myself I would end it before things got serious. I kept making that promise, but I never followed through. “It isn't nothing,” I admitted. “But it isn't what you think, either.” Jonathan let out a short, bitter laugh. “What I think is that my little sister is sleeping with the same bastard who used to wait for me after school with his rich-boy friends. The same one who—” He stopped. We both knew what he was going to say. It was something neither of us liked talking about. I took a step toward him, but he stepped back. “Shane is different now,” I said. “People change.” “Not people like him.” His eyes were red. He had been working double shifts at the repair shop again, trying to keep the business running. Old Man Wilson had left him the shop and all its debts when he died. Despite everything, Jonathan had managed to pay the last of my tuition. “You of all people should know better,” he added. I wrapped my arms around myself. The house was unusually quiet. There was no music from the salon nearby, and none of the club members had stopped by for their usual coffee and complaints. It was just Jonathan and me, with a decision neither of us wanted to face. “How long?” he asked. I wanted to lie. It would have been easier than admitting the truth, but I was tired of lying to him. “Three months.” He turned and walked to the window. For a while, he stared out at the street. “Three months,” he repeated. “You've been sneaking around with him for three months while I've been sitting across from you at dinner, thinking everything was fine. You've looked me in the eye every day and said nothing.” “I didn't know how to tell you.” He turned around. “You still don't. So I'll make it simple. Choose between me and Shane Rowland.” I stared at him. “If you choose him, we're done. No more family dinners. No more checking on you. No more anything. If you walk out of that door with him, don't come back expecting things to be the same.” My phone felt heavy in my back pocket, even though I hadn't taken it out. I remembered the night I first met Shane. Betty had dragged me to a bar, insisting I needed to get out of the house for once. I hadn't planned to meet anyone, let alone him. He hadn't recognized me at first, and I hadn't told him who I was. It was supposed to be a one-night thing. Then it happened again, and before I knew it, three months had passed. Somewhere along the way, Shane had become more than a distraction. I thought about our rides through the city and the nights we spent together at his penthouse. I remembered the way he looked at me when we were alone, as if he could see a side of me I rarely showed anyone. His messages had started with simple questions like 'You free?' Eventually, they became 'Stay.' I knew what I was doing was wrong, especially because I had kept it from Jonathan. But I couldn't pretend my feelings for Shane didn't exist. Then I thought about Jonathan. He had been nineteen when Mom died. A week after her funeral, he stood in the doorway of this same house and told me he was dropping out of school so I could finish mine. He hadn't asked for my opinion. He had simply made the decision and taken responsibility for both of us. He had worked jobs he hated and gone without things he needed to make sure I had what I wanted. Now, I was standing in front of him, sleeping with the one man he could never forgive. “I can't choose like that,” I whispered. “You can. You just don't want to.” He crossed the room and stopped in front of me. For a moment, I thought he might take me by the shoulders, the way he used to when we were younger and he needed me to pay attention. Instead, he looked straight at me. “I raised you after Mom died. I worked every shitty job in this city so you could go to school and build a future for yourself. You wanted to help people, and I did everything I could to make that possible.” He paused. “And now you're sleeping with the man who killed her.” “Stop.” My voice was barely above a whisper. He fell silent. I covered my face with both hands, trying to hold myself together. When I finally looked up, he was still standing there. “I need time,” I said. “You have until tonight.” He pointed toward the door. “You walk out of here, and you decide whose side you're on. If it's his, don't come back. If it's mine, end things with him. No more lies. Finish your degree, and fulfill your vows.” I looked at him, confused by the last part, but he didn't explain. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Once. Then again. I didn't need to check it to know who was calling. Jonathan noticed my reaction, and his jaw tightened. “He's already looking for you.” He turned and walked into the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator open and close, followed by the sound of his footsteps. When he returned, he was holding a bottle of water. “I'm not doing this because I hate you,” he said. His voice was calmer now. “I'm doing it because I remember what that family did to us. I remember how Shane treated me and the way he looked down on me because I had nothing.” He placed the bottle on the coffee table. “I won't stand by and watch my sister become another thing he takes from me.” I wanted to tell him that Shane hadn't forced me into anything. Whatever had happened between us, I had given in. But I couldn't explain that without admitting how much I wanted to be with him. And I couldn't make Jonathan understand why I had fallen for the very man he despised. Outside, a motorcycle started up somewhere down the street. The engine roared briefly before fading into the distance. My heart jumped anyway. Jonathan picked up the bottle again, turning it between his hands. “If I meet him at another race, I'll break his bones,” he said. “He dared lay his hands on you.” I looked at him but said nothing. I knew Jonathan was serious. He had never liked Shane, but what had happened between them went deeper than their childhood rivalry. I had never understood the full story. I walked over to the couch and picked up my jacket. It was Shane's, technically. I had borrowed it after one of our rides and never returned it. Jonathan watched me put it on. He didn't try to stop me. At the door, I paused with my hand on the knob. “I love you,” I said. He looked away. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Then he answered quietly. “Then prove it.” I stepped outside. The air smelled like rain, and I could hear the distant sounds of traffic. I pulled out my phone. There was a message from an unsaved number I had memorized weeks ago. 'Where are you?' I stared at the screen, unsure what to say. I typed a reply, then deleted it. I tried again, but the words still didn't feel right. In the end, I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket. Behind me, the porch light came on. I glanced at the house, knowing Jonathan was still inside. Three months of secrets had brought me here. Now I had to choose between the brother who had raised me and the man I had never expected to fall for. And for the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do.