The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)
The Home-wrecker: Chapter 40

After the last game of every season, Sean throws a big party at his house. It’s not normally something I would go to, but Briar will be there. And I sure as hell can’t leave her alone with so many drunk guys.

It’s been weeks since she and I first started sleeping together, and while I don’t blame her for not wanting to tell Sean, there’s a part of me that worries that maybe I don’t mean as much to her as I thought. Maybe she won’t tell him because she doesn’t want to lose him.

But when Briar and I are together, it feels real. I love her. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. And it’s devastating to think about a future where she and I don’t end up together.

When I enter the party, half the guys here are already drunk. The music is loud and most people are in the backyard, so I make my way out there, scanning the crowd for Briar.

I spot her in the yard, standing by Sean’s side with his arm slung over her shoulders. Her gaze meets mine, and I notice the sympathetic melancholy on her face. Even she knows this has to come to an end. Either she breaks up with him, or she ends things with me.

But I need to be the one to make that ultimatum.

I have to believe that the only reason Briar hasn’t left Sean is because she’s afraid, and I can’t blame her. This is a tough situation. He’s manipulated her and gotten into her head, so she thinks she can’t do anything without him, but she has me. I will do everything I can to keep her safe and make her happy. She just has to see that.

“Goode!” Sean shouts, and the guys around him cheer. My face remains emotionless as I make my way over because I know their enthusiasm is fake. They don’t like me. Sean and his friends fucking hate me, and it’s obvious. They respect me on the field because I can throw, but that’s all. Outside of the games, they treat me like shit.

And I don’t care.

“Grab a beer,” Sean says with a slur to his voice.

I take a red Solo cup for the sole purpose of not causing a scene. My eyes land on Briar’s face as I lift it to my lips.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she murmurs softly before leaving his side and heading into the house.

I give it a few minutes before I ease out of the group conversation. Glancing behind me, I make sure no one watches as I slip into the house, following Briar.

Sneaking through the long hallways, I find the bathroom, but a girl I don’t know emerges.

“Psst,” a soft voice calls, and I spin to find Briar, turning down another hallway to the back of the house. When we reach a dark room, she pulls me in and closes the door behind us.

The moment we’re alone, I gather her into my arms and hold her, breathing in the scent of her hair. There is another man’s cologne there, too, and it grates on my nerves.

“This is dangerous here,” she whispers against my chest. “But I couldn’t take another minute.”

The room we’re in is dark, with only the light of the moon through the window. So when I pull away and take her hands with mine, I can barely make out her perfect blue eyes.

“Then leave with me,” I plead. “Let’s go right now, Briar.”

“I can’t,” she cries.

I press my lips to hers. “Yes, you can. You don’t belong to him.”

“Who do I belong to, Caleb? You?” she cries.

“No, Briar. You belong to you. This is your choice. Your call. Even if you don’t come with me, don’t stay with him. He doesn’t appreciate how beautiful and how smart you are. You deserve so much more than him.”

She hiccups on a sob and buries her face in my chest again. “Why would you wait for me?”

Suddenly, that stupid ultimatum I thought I could give her floats away on a breeze. I could never force her to choose. I love her too much.

“I’ll wait forever, Briar,” I mumble against her hair.

“I don’t deserve you,” she whispers.

Pulling her face back in my hands, I stare into her eyes through the darkness. “You deserve more than me. You deserve everything, and if you came with me, I’d spend the rest of our lives making you as happy as I possibly can.”

Sliding her hand through the hair at the back of my head, she pulls me in for a kiss, mumbling against my mouth, “I love you.”

I try to mutter my reply, but our kiss grows too heated, too fast. I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her against me. Hope courses through my veins. She loves me. Everything is going to work out.

Lifting her off the floor, her legs wrap around me as I carry her to the bed. When I lay her on the mattress, she hums into my mouth.

In the back of my mind, I realize I should have locked the door. I was too focused on her to care. I thought I was invincible.

But when the door flies open, and the room is bathed in light from the hallway, I know the dream I had in my hand was too fleeting to hold on to.

“I fucking knew it!” Sean bellows as he marches angrily into the room. His hand latches around the back of my shirt and hauls me off the bed. I stare in shock at Briar, concerned only for her, when a fist pummels against my chin.

I stumble backward, hitting a wall as pain radiates through my skull.

“Sean!” she screams, and I open my eyes to see her reaching for his arm to hold it back from swinging again. Then everything happens in slow motion when he turns and slaps her so hard across the face that she flies to the floor.

Burning hot rage courses through my veins. My ears begin to buzz as my vision goes blurry.

Lunging from the wall, I fly toward him. I lose focus as I close my hands around his throat and slam him against the wall. My fist flies, connecting with his face. I don’t feel the pain in my hand. At the moment, I don’t feel anything.

There’s a commotion down the hallway, and a foreboding feeling of dread settles in my stomach. I’m fucked.

A crowd of guys burst into the room, finding me holding Sean against the wall. His face is bleeding. My hand is bleeding, and Briar is crying.

They won’t give me an ounce of mercy, and I don’t expect them to.

Hands close around my arms as someone places me in a choke hold, forcing me to the floor.

“Take him outside. I don’t want to get blood on the carpet,” Sean mutters from above me.

“Stop!” Briar screams.

When I hear her voice, I try to fight them off, but it’s useless. There are too many of them, and with alcohol coursing through their veins, they have no restraint. To them, I’m the enemy—the home-wrecker. It’s not just that I’ve broken some code or done something wrong, but these guys have seen me as different since I got here.

And now I’ll be punished for it.

I’m manhandled by at least six guys as they drag me out of the house and into the yard.

My face hits the concrete as they drop me onto the ground. There are so many hands on me that I can barely budge. It dawns on me in this moment that they could kill me. Briar would be left alone with them if that happened.

Roaring like an animal, I fight to get up, thrashing and shouting when someone kicks me hard in the ribs. The air is knocked out of me, and I nearly vomit on the cold ground.

“You piece of shit!” Sean shouts, just before another kick explodes against my side. I feel my ribs crack from the toe of his shoe, and pain pulses through me. “You don’t think we see the way you stare in the locker room? Now you want to touch my girl? You fucking pervert. You freak!”

In the distance, Briar screams again.

Fighting against their arms and my broken ribs, I struggle to get away. I need to get to her, but it’s useless. They’re too strong, and there are too many of them.

“Break his fucking hand. He doesn’t deserve to be on our team anymore,” Sean mutters.

I try to fight some more, but everything happens so fast.

With my cheek pressed against the cold cement, I’m staring down my outstretched arm as someone’s heel lands so hard on my knuckles that I feel the bones shattering.

My vision cuts to black for a brief moment before another shoe stomps on my fingers. The pain is no longer something I feel, but it becomes something I am. I am made of pain. Excruciating, sharp, white agony seeps into my bones like it’s changing the very structure of my conscience.

I’m screaming, but I can’t hear anything anymore. Again, everything goes black, but I wake up too quickly.

This time, the shoe lands against my forearm and the crack of the bone forces my stomach to heave and tears to sting my eyes. I can’t scream or breathe. They stomp and howl like animals in a slaughterhouse.

There are sirens in the distance, and the hands holding me down release my body so I can finally suck in air again, but it’s too late. I am broken and shattered into a million pieces.

With my face still pressed to the ground, I watch the feet of the scattering partygoers as they run. Shrieks and screams fill the night air as I lie in pain, waiting for my mind to allow me to pass out again.

Then, the face of an angel fills my vision, and I stare through the tears in my eyes as Briar lies on the ground in front of me.

“Oh my god, what did they do to you?” she cries.

“Did they hurt you?” I mutter, although my voice is broken; nothing but a wheezing whisper scrapes its way out of my throat.

“Me? Caleb, look at you. Oh my god, your arm!”

I try to pull my arm to me so she doesn’t have to see the grotesqueness of it, but the slightest movement has me wanting to vomit again, so I hold still and wish for mercy.

“This is all my fault. Caleb, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry,” she sobs.

I feel her face pressed softly to my side, and I don’t bother telling her how badly my ribs ache. Just to feel her close to me is enough. I wish I could reach for her or touch her, but I can’t. She just keeps repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Moments before the police arrive with the ambulance, she stares into my eyes as I softly murmur, “I’m not.”

Present Day

Sitting at my desk at work, I flex my right hand, staring at the old scars and feeling that phantom ache that comes and goes now, and I can’t help but think about how far Briar and I have come.

This gets me thinking about Dean and how amazing the other night was. I had sex with a man, and I don’t feel one bit different. But I looked into his eyes and realized how much I care about him, and now I hardly recognize myself.

Dean is so much braver than me. He’s unapologetic, and he doesn’t dull his own shine for the sake of others. I love that about him, and for the first time in my life, I feel inspired to do the same.

But he’s not invincible, and I worry about him the same way I worried about Isaac. Dean needs me, and it feels so good to be needed. He won’t ask for help because I know how vulnerable he feels when he does that, but I can be there for him even when he doesn’t ask.

I had to fight for Briar, and I did. I nearly died showing my love for her. But when did I stop?

If I allow another man into our relationship, does that mean I’ve stopped fighting for her? Or does it mean I still am?

I’ve never met a poly family in my life. No one in our community would approve. My father would have disowned me if he hadn’t already burned the bridge between us. My mother would struggle, for sure.

Our community. Briar’s family. My career. There is so much at stake, and for what? Because Briar and I found another person we love? Someone who’s good for us. Someone who is already a member of our family.

What could be so wrong about that?

My mind is so full of questioning, overthinking, worrying, and calculating that I can hardly work. My father has yet to make a statement in response to mine. Honestly, I hope he never does. He should face trial and serve the time he’s sentenced.

He won’t find any mercy from me.

My phone flashes with a notification, and I glance down to see the message: Theo Virgil is going live on Instagram.

I’ve never moved so fast in my life. After quickly hitting the notification, the app opens on my phone, and just like that, I’m staring at my brother’s face.

But it’s not a picture. It’s a video, and it’s him at this very moment.

He looks nervous, quietly staring at the screen with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Oh man,” he stammers. “You’re all here.”

The sound of his voice brings tears to my eyes. I cover my mouth with my hand and watch as he addresses his fans. Propping my phone up against my coffee cup, I stare at him.

“How are you enjoying your tour?” he says, reading one of the questions. Leaning back in his chair, he bites his bottom lip as he stares up at the ceiling as if contemplating his answer. When he brings his attention back to the screen, he says, “I’ll be honest. It’s a dream come true. Even just playing at bars and small venues, I’m living the dream. I couldn’t be happier.”

Blinking again, another tear rolls down my cheek.

Just then, I remember the tour stop he has nearby, and I scurry to open my calendar on my computer to check the date. With relief, I notice that I haven’t missed it. He’ll be here next week.

I can see him next week.

But then I glance back at the video on the screen, and I see how happy he is. He’s living his dream. Would it be wrong of me to invade that peace? He doesn’t owe me anything, but can I really see him play without invading his space?

It doesn’t seem fair.

Not to mention, I’m currently engaging in sexual acts with his ex-boyfriend. His first boyfriend. I know Dean hasn’t had contact with Isaac since the day I drove Dean away, but I know how much they meant to each other.

What if Dean was to Isaac then what Dean is to me now?

What if they see each other while Isaac is in town and reconnect?

Once again, I’m the infiltrator. The one that is breaking up friendships, relationships, and families. I’m the home-wrecker.

All the more reason to ignore all the voices and judgment of others. If I bring Dean into our marriage for real, I’m not wrecking our home. I’m healing it.

For once, I know how to fix things. And I know exactly what I need to do next.