Page 71 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
When the music changes again—faster now, a playful swing tune—he spins me out and lets me go, smiling, giving me the freedom to float back into the swirl of the crowd.
But as I turn, I see them—Jake, Ethan, and Liam—all watching me.
Not possessively.
Not jealously.
Justpresent.Mine.
And all at once, I know: This night will end. The world will intrude again.
There are questions we haven’t answered. Conversations we haven’t had. Lines we haven’t drawn.
But tonight?
Tonight, I’m theirs.
And they’re mine.
Chapter twenty-eight
JAKE
Isee him before I hear him.
Nick, slouched near the drink table, slurring a half-hearted joke to a poor guy in a bowtie who clearly regrets making eye contact. His shirt’s half untucked, tie limp like a noose, and his hair’s mussed in a way that suggests he’s been dragging his fingers through it all night.
But it’s his eyes that hit hardest—red-rimmed, glassy, and sharp. Too sharp. Mean. This isn’t like him. He’s been so different from his usual self the last few days, and it’s making him unpredictable. Every time that gaze lands on Maya, something in my chest tightens. My hands curl into fists automatically, my whole body humming with a need to protect.
She’s near the archway, talking to other bridesmaids. She’s so focused on her conversation, she doesn’t see him veer fromthe drink table—doesn’t see the way his shoulders square with intent.
But I do.
He moves fast, shoving past a group of wedding guests like they’re scenery, not people. I start moving without thinking, cutting across the lawn.
His voice is low, almost a growl. “So this is how it is now?”
Maya flinches, straightening as she turns toward him. “Nick,” she says, her tone wary. “You need to leave.”
He steps in, too close, swaying slightly on his feet. “You think I’m just gonna let you pretend none of it meant anything?”
Then he grabs her wrist.
Her eyes go wide, and she stumbles a half-step, trying to pull back—but his grip tightens. I see the flicker of fear cross her face. That’s all it takes.
“Let go of her.” My voice slices through the noise, cold and measured. The kind of calm that lives just before a storm rips through everything.
Nick turns, his lips twisting into something that’s supposed to be a smirk but lands more like a sneer. “What, you her bodyguard now?”
I don’t answer. I step between them, nudging Maya behind me with my arm. Her hand finds the small of my back—just the lightest touch, but it centers me in a way nothing else could.
“You’re drunk,” I say evenly. “Walk away.”
He laughs, sharp and ugly. “She’s not yours. None of you get to act like she’s yours.”
My jaw ticks. His breath reeks of whiskey. “You’re right,” I say. “She’s not mine. But she sure as hell isn’t yours.”
His face contorts. “You don’t get to say that—”
