Page 73 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
But Nick’s eyes lock on mine like I just lit the match myself. His pupils are blown wide, wild with fury and something uglier. He sneers, staggering as he throws his arms out like he’s preaching to an invisible crowd.
“You too, huh?” His voice is ragged, bitter. “Falling for her little act? That sweet, innocent girl act? The wide eyes. The soft voice. The whole wounded bird thing.”
I take a step forward.
“God, she’s got you all wrapped around her perfect little finger like a good little whore.”
My blood turns to ice.
Jake exhales sharply behind me, his hand twitching like he’s barely holding himself back. But I don’t need him to move.
Because I already have.
I close the distance in a blink and swing hard, my fist slamming into Nick’s jaw with a sickeningcrack, sharp and final. There’s a pop, a grunt, and then he’s falling.
Dead weight.
He hits the gravel hard, out cold, limbs crumpled beneath him like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood runs from his lip, pooling against the stones.
Behind me, Jake’s hand clamps onto my arm, yanking me back. His eyes are wide with alarm. “Ethan—”
“I’m fine,” I grit out, though my knuckles are already swelling, the skin split clean across the ridge of bone.
Pain pulses hot and angry with every heartbeat, but it’s nothing compared to the fire still roaring in my chest. But none of it compares to the guilt tearing through me.
I was supposed to be the calm one. The protector. And I let rage speak louder than reason.
Nick’s body lies sprawled across the gravel, face slack and bloodied like someone finally punched the venom out of him.
A muffled gasp breaks the quiet—someone behind us. Maybe more than one person. I hear the scrape of shoes on gravel and the high-pitched rustle of whispers starting to swell.
We don’t have long.
Liam jogs over, breath tight. His voice is low, urgent. “She’s not okay.”
That’s all it takes.
I don’t ask questions. I don’t need to.
Jake and I move fast, instinct guiding us now. He grabs my shoulder, turning me away from Nick and toward the garden’s edge, the side path that loops behind the venue.
We round the corner and she’s already there. Frozen beneath the lantern light, staring at nothing. Her arms are wrapped around herself, her posture small. She looks lost in a sea of wedding lights and too-loud music.
Her dress is rumpled. Her hair’s slipping from its pins. Her eyes—
God, her eyes.
They’re wide, glassy, not blinking. Like she’s somewhere else completely.
“Maya,” I say gently as I step in close, lowering my voice like it might reach her where nothing else has.
She turns toward me, but it’s like she’s not really seeing me. Like she’s looking through me instead of at me. Her lip trembles, and I see the smudge of Nick’s handprint on her wrist—red and ghostlike.
My chest squeezes.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, voice breaking around the words.
Jake’s right behind her, his hand settling at the small of her back. The quiet is thick with everything we’re all carrying.
