Fort Brothers

0008 — Edmund

The old me had no standards. A tight skirt hugging an ass did it. Heels clicking across tile turned me on like a switch. Long legs walking past were a risk I never bothered dodging. I’d roll the dice and accept whatever consequences every single time.

But continuing like that meant self-destruction so I restructured.

Two miles every morning, cold showers, strict schedules. I rebranded. The new Edmund Fort: disciplined, sharp, fully in control.

Turns out the rebrand had a flaw. Her name wasn’t in the prospectus. She wore blue scrub dress and sandals.

The gold sandals laced up to her knees. I noticed them from across the room. They pulled my eyes down to her legs. Toned. Defined. Distance didn’t matter. I saw too much and felt the old weakness stir.

Nothing about Isa should have hit me this hard. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. Half the time she was nervous as hell, defiant like she was ready to bite back, or completely checked out somewhere else in her head.

I swallowed and shifted my posture against the doorframe of Bryan’s room.

He was fast asleep, his breathing deep and even in the quiet room.

Isa leaned over and gently adjusted the blanket, tucking it more securely around his shoulders. As she did, the hem of her skirt rose slightly, revealing the smooth line of her thighs above the gold sandals laced high on her calves.

A quiet discomfort settled in my chest. I couldn't have explained where it came from if someone had asked. All I knew was that watching her care for my brother stirred something restless inside me.

She pulled herself up and saw me. A smile twitched on her mouth but it died before it reached her eyes.

The sight only made me more aware of myself.

Maybe I unsettled her. Or maybe she could see the tension I was trying to hide. Every heated thought I’d had about her lately — how quickly her body in that uniform had stirred me and I’d been forced to relieve the pressure myself just to stand here like a man in control instead of the undisciplined animal still fighting to break loose.

I swallowed hard, forcing the memory down.

Isa took a few hesitant steps toward me. “Um… I wanted to say thank you… and sorry.” Her fingers twisted together nervously. “Thank you for offering to drive me home. And sorry for walking out like that. You were being thoughtful, and I didn’t respond very well.”

I readjusted my arm against the doorframe, trying to look casual despite how tense I felt.My brow pulled together as the memory resurfaced.

"You seemed upset." I glanced at her, "'Don't bother.' That was it. You left and I was up half the night trying to figure out what I did wrong."

"No, Edmund. You didn't do anything wrong. I was just—"

The words died in her throat. Her jaw clenched, and she turned her face away.

And there it was - her escape hatch. She’d wandered near the truth, felt the heat, and started calculating distance back to safety

I should've let her.

Instead some stubborn part of me wanted to follow. To know what made her smile, what made her nervous, what made her go quiet in the middle of a sentence..

"Guess you’re tougher than you look. No cold."

It was a cheap attempt to change the subject, but I didn't care. I'd have talked about the weather, taxes, or paint drying if it kept her engaged. Anything was better than watching her disappear into herself.

She blinked, momentarily thrown by the change in direction. A strand of hair had fallen loose, and she tucked it behind her ear before looking at me.

"Day off?" she asked.

"Yeah." I rubbed the back of my neck, "I've got a contract I need to go over. A pile of paperwork, really. Thought I'd have a better shot at concentrating if I stayed away from the office."

The excuse sounded reasonable enough but the truth was standing three feet in front of me.

Isa nodded and swallowed before meeting my eyes. Her pink lips parted for a second and then pressed shut again.

I forced myself to keep my attention on her face.I knew better than to let my eyes wander.

"I... I wanted to ask you something, Edmund." She finally got the words out.

My brow lifted. "Sure."

I folded my arms and hooked one ankle over the other, arranging myself into something that looked relaxed.

Whether I actually felt relaxed was a different question entirely.

"It's about Mr. Fort," she said calmly.

For a second, I assumed she meant my brother.

A corner of my mouth twitched. "Bryan?"

Confusion flickered across her face.

"No." She shook her head. "I mean your father."

The amusement vanished. I said nothing. Just watched her.

Not because I was trying to intimidate her. Because the mention of him had landed like a stone dropped into still water, sending old ripples through places I preferred left undisturbed.

I was shut tighter than a grave, and if Isa had any sense, she’d see the warning and leave it dead.

"I... know this is... a lot, Edmund." She swallowed. "But it's important I know—"

My eyes narrowed.

The rest of her sentence died under the weight of my stare..

"Important?" I repeated quietly. "If we're ranking what's important here, Isa, I'd put what you've been doing to me lately a hell of a lot higher than the man who raised me."

She opened that pretty, ruinous mouth again. I caught the sharp inhale, the defiant tilt of her chin. She was gearing up to push anyway.

Right there, I swear I’d have ordered her to my room, onto my bed on all fours with her ass up, holding that position until I came and f****d her so thoroughly she’d forget her own name, let alone whatever curiosity was pushing her.

The urge hit hard—hard enough to knock the air from my lungs before I shoved it back down...