“Payback,” I shrug. “I shared a womb with you for nine months. You used to kick the shit out of me.”

“Really? You’re playin’ that card?”

“Hey,” Tate interrupts. “You used that all the time when we were kids. You told Mom that Ads beat you when she was pregnant and you were just getting your own back.”

“I remember that,” Sofie agrees. “You used it when you were eighteen, too.”

“He still uses it,” Conner snorts.

“So does Aidan,” Jessie laughs, redoing her hair. She ties it off with a snap. “Can I have my brush back now, Kye?”

Predictably, Kye picks it up and throws it back at me. Jessie reaches up and catches it with one hand before I can so much as move out of the way.

“Jesus,” she mutters. “Y’all look like I just gave birth to Yoda or somethin’. I was on the softball team in high school, remember?”

“You were?” I ask. “I think I mostly just stared at your ass in high school.”

“What’s changed?”

“Point made.” I grin, taking her hands and helping her up.

“Daddy!” Mila yells. “Mama, side!”

Sofie drops her head back.

“Comin’,” Conner calls back grinning, then grabs Sofie. “Come on, princess. You wanted to bring her with us, now you’re payin’ the price.”

“If I didn’t think it would boost your ego, I’d say I should listen to you more,” she groans.

“It’s the toddler slides or the big one.”

“Hey, Mila, you want a Popsicle?” Sofie asks.

“Yeah! Yeah! Wed!”

“Come on then.” Sofie grins, holding her hand out for her. Mila goes toddling over, but Jessie gets up and intercepts Mila, throwing her over her shoulder before Sofie can get her.

“I owe her one!” Jessie explains as Mila giggles like hell. “Looks like you’re goin’ on the big slide!”

“This isn’t fair!” Sofie complains as Conner grabs her, smiling.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t been on it,” I remind her, watching as Jessie takes Mila to the only open stand in the waterpark, set up for our convenience, since we are the only people here.

“Yeah,” Tate agrees, a smile spreading across his face. “And it took Ella’s bikini top off.”

“Aw, fuck,” Kye grumbles. “I miss all the good stuff.”

“Get your own girlfriend, then you won’t miss anything,” Ella teases him.

“I’ll move out if y’all are gonna start with that.”

“Can I have your room?” I laugh.

“Fuck off.”

“Dollar.” Mila stomps over, Popsicle in one hand, the other stretched out.

“Slide,” Kye bargains.

She tilts her head to the side. “Otay. Let’s go!” She hands Tate her Popsicle then tugs at Kye’s shorts, pointing at the slide.

“Have fun,” Jessie grins, coming over to stand by me. Kye disappears with Mila, and Tate wipes Mila’s Popsicle down Ella’s back. She screams, and he runs away, her hot on his heels.

I laugh and wrap my arm around Jessie’s shoulders. She leans into me, and I kiss the top of her head, squeezing her shoulders.

I feel apprehensive about this, because I always did promise that I’d never put anyone through what Sofie and Ella have dealt with quietly and Jessie already has. Just as we, as brothers and a band, settle down one by one, our fans are bound to get crazier.

And as worried as I am for whoever Kye’s future girlfriend might be, I’m really fucking glad he’s the last single one. I’m taken.

A magazine hits me in the head.

“Hey!” I look up, hand flying to the spot on my forehead where it just hit me.

“Look at the cover!” Tate yells, storming into the kitchen and clenching his fists. “First he rips you a new asshole for doing what you want, then he instructs the media to run bullshit stories!”

I frown and bend down to pick up the magazine. I slap it on the table, and the words jump out at me:

IS AIDAN BURKE CHEATING ON HIS TATTED LADY LOVE?

Beneath the big-lettered caption is a picture of, apparently, me, entering a bar with my arm around a blonde. I squint and pull it closer to my face. “That’s Kye,” I say, dropping it down.

“I know,” Tate growls. “When you called Marc after we left Florida yesterday, he probably thought you were going to tell him you were breaking up with Jessie. When you told him you weren’t, he got pissed and planted this story.”

“He counted on the breakup for publicity.” I stand up. “Does Jessie know?”

“Does Jessie know what?” Ella asks, opening the front door and stepping to the side.

Jessie’s lips thin. “Do I know that you apparently spent last night with Chelsey in a bar by the beach? No. I didn’t get hounded this morning after work or have three different journalists try to buy coffee before my boss called the cops.”

I wince. Fuck. “Sorry.”

“What for?” she asks, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the table. “You weren’t with my best friend. Your brother was. They could have at least Photoshopped your tattoos onto him—and checked your actual whereabouts before they ran this stuff.”

I read the caption under the image. The image was apparently taken at 10:30, which is when I just so happened to be naked and underneath Jessie. “I’d have some mad skill to be with you and her at the same time.”

Tate snorts. “Are you secretly the Flash?”

“Batman,” I reply. “What do we do?”

“We need to think about that.” He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “But when our manager, the guy who’s supposed to have our best interests at heart, goes and fucks with us this way, then I’m not fucking happy with him.”

“So fire him,” Jessie says simply, shrugging.

Tate and I glance at each other.

“What?” she says, looking around at us. “You didn’t like his original idea, although you went along with it.” She shoots me a glance. “But at least that kind of made sense. This is just bullshit. Anyone can see this isn’t you.” She jabs at the magazine cover. “Look. Like I said. Tattoos. This is your left arm, and on your left arm you have trees. Kye doesn’t have anything on his lower left arm.”

“And your fans know it,” Ella adds. “We already checked Twitter. They’re going nuts over the fact the media screwed up.”

I pull out my phone and open the app. Just like she said, Twitter is blowing up, and our surname is trending again. “Well, his plan worked, either way,” I admit.

“But it’s a piece-of-shit plan,” Tate argues, still angry. “We need to get together tonight—all four of us—and make a choice.”

“Fire him.” I shrug.

“What will you do with no manager, though? My sister is obsessed with stalking y’all’s page for news on the new album you’re gonna record.” Jessie bites her thumb.

“Lawyers,” Tate answers. “The album will get recorded. We have the studio time already, and a whole other team aside from Marc. We knew what kind of guy he was when we signed his contracts three years ago, but we thought we needed a ruthless asshole to get us somewhere.”

“It wasn’t the best choice we made, but this industry changes so often, and he has the track record,” I continue, resting my hand on Jessie’s thigh. “It won’t be hard for us to find a new manager. We made more than any other ‘boy band’ in America last year.”

Jessie looks down at me, a smirk on her face. “Yet y’all still live at home with your mom and dad.”

I pause. “Shut up.”

She laughs.

“We’ve gotta move out,” I mutter, and Tate echoes his agreement.

“And now,” he finishes.

“Anyway,” Jessie says, jumping up. “We’re going shopping. We just wanted to stop by and tell you that I saw and laughed.”

“You gonna be okay?” I ask. “We can call Ajax and have him send someone to go with you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t need a bodyguard, rocker boy. Ella has mace in her purse, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“You don’t need mace,” Tate tells her, grabbing an apple from the bowl. “You just have to open your mouth and shoot them down. You’re fuckin’ scary.”

Jessie smiles sweetly. “I know.” She bends down and kisses my cheek before she and Ella walk outside.