Page 118 of Gathered Sparkle

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means the real issue here is your pride,” I explain, not backing down. “You don’t like that she was part of our plan. You don’t like that she caught real feelings for you, the same way you did for her. And you definitely don’t like the idea of sharing her. But if you really care about her, none of that matters. So ask yourself, can you put her needs before your pride?”

“Sharing her…” He blinks, his lips twitching like he’s trying to figure out whether to laugh or tell me to fuck off. “You mean this whole… whatever the hell this is?”

“Exactly,” I say, smirking. “A co-boyfriend situation. Boyfriend Collective. The Sparkle Syndicate, if you will.”

Nicholas stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, his lips pressing into a thin line until the corner twitches. “The Sparkle Syndicate?”

“Call it what you want, man. Boyfriend Coalition? Whatever makes it easier for your fragile ego to swallow.” I shrug, grinning. “Membership perks include Sparkle’s smile and the occasional existential crisis.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, but you’re still listening.”

He doesn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the road. It feels like he might end the conversation right there, but then he speaks again, “You make it sound so fucking easy.”

“It’s not,” I admit. “But it’s simple. You’re hurt. I get it. But you’re the one holding onto it. If you want her, fight for her. If you want this family, fight for it. But if you can’t, fine. Walk away. Just don’t blame us when you realize you’re the one who lost everything.”

He’s silent for a long moment, his grip on the wheel easing slightly. “And what if I can’t?”

“Then that’s on you, man,” I say, sitting back in my seat. “But if you’re willing to put her before your pride, then you’ll figure it out.”

He exhales slowly, his eyes scanning the road ahead, but the tension in his shoulders starts to loosen. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Tell me something new.”

He doesn’t respond, but it’s fine. He has a lot to think about now.

Only the Backstreet Boys fill the silence, and because I’m me, I start singing along, loud and unapologetically. At first, Nicholas doesn’t react, but as I hit the chorus with all the passion of a seasoned boy-band fan, I swear I hear something. It’s faint, so faint I almost miss it, a low hum, barely there but definitely in tune.

I pause mid-line, side-eyeing him. “Harrington… are youhumming?”

His jaw tightens, and he keeps his eyes on the road. “No.”

“You are. I can hear it.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“You so were.” I grin like I’ve hit the jackpot.

He rolls his eyes, but I catch that almost smile again. “Just sing your damn song,Walker.”

I laugh, picking up where I left off, belting out the next line with exaggerated drama. And as the chorus hits again, I hear it once more, that almost imperceptible hum. It’s faint, but it’s there. And yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose now.

By the time the song fades out, I’m grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.

Maybe there is something to like about this guy after all.

And thank fuck, because the rest of our lives would be miserable if there wasn’t.

Nicholas pulls the car to a stop in front of a rundown house in a neighborhood that screamsquestionable choices. I can feel him bristling even without looking at him. His fancy shoes and sleek suit don’t exactly blend in.

Oh well. He’ll survive.

“Where even are we?” he asks sharply, his eyes scanning the street like it might attack him.

“Told you.” I roll my eyes. “We’re getting a van.”

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