Page 90 of Four More The Merrier

"Getting comfortable," Lyle confirms. "Got nowhere else to be since we postponed the tour to find you."

My stomach lurches, and not from morning sickness this time. "You what?"

"You heard me. Now either let us in or I'm gonna start singing your least favorite Christmas song until you cave."

"He's already clearing his throat," Abby reports. "And Jarron's got his phone out to record it."

"You better not," I warn.

Lyle launches into an off-key rendition of "Last Christmas."

I make my way to the front door as I slide down against my side of it, pressing my forehead to the cool wood.

"Say you're at peace, but I'm not opening up."

Lyle's awful singing cuts off mid-chorus.

"We had a long talk," Beau says softly. "About you, about us."

"About how we've been idiots," Austen adds.

I wrap my arms around my knees. "Look, you didn't have to come all this way to do this."

"Do what?" Jarron's voice comes from lower now, like he's sitting too. "Try to fix what we broke? What I broke? Because we do. I do."

"None of us want to lose you," Lyle says. "And we realized something - if faced with a choice of sharing you, or not having you at all, we're fully prepared to grow the fuck up and do just that."

My heart thunders against my ribs. "What are you saying?"

"We're saying..." Beau clears his throat. "If you'll have us, we want to try. All of us. Together."

"It's unconventional," Austen admits. "But when has anything about us been normal?"

"You don't have to choose," Jarron says. "We don't want you to choose. We just want you back. And If you don't want me in the scenario, because of what I said to you…" he pauses as his voice breaks, "then I will step back. But I just want you to know that doing that would be the hardest thing I've had to do other than bury my mama.

Tears slip down my cheeks. "Jarron, I forgive you. Don't hold on to that, it will get really heavy."

"I'm sorry Quinn.. I'm so fucking sorry…" He says, and it takes everything in me not to toss open that door and hold him.

"It would never work. The media-"

"Fuck the media," all four of them say in unison.

"We'll figure it out," Lyle promises. "Whatever comes, we'll handle it together."

"Please," Beau's voice breaks. "Just open the door, Quinn."

I press my palm flat against the wood, imagining I can feel their warmth through it. "I can't."

"Why not?" Jarron asks.

Abby gives me a supportive nod as she wipes a tear from her eye.

My hands shake as I unlatch the chain. The door creaks open and four pairs of eyes lock onto me. My oversized sweater doesn't hide the way I'm trembling.

"I can't." The words scrape past my throat. "I can't go back."

"Quinn-" Beau reaches for me but I step back.

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