Page 72 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
And then he swings.
His fist connects with my jaw—a glancing hit, but there’s enough force to make my vision blur for half a second. I taste blood.
I swing back.
My fist lands square in his gut with a dull, sickeningthud. Nick folds in half, wheezing as he stumbles backward, but he recovers fast—fueled by whatever cocktail of rage and shame he’s been nursing all night.
He lunges, and then we’re in it—grappling, fists flying, years of tension boiling over in a raw, chaotic tangle. There’s nothing elegant about it. Just fury and grit and gravel crunching beneath our feet.
My knuckles split open against his cheekbone. He gets one good hit to my ribs that knocks the breath out of me.
But I don’t stop.
Because I’ve watched him mess with her for too long. Heard the stories. Seen the aftermath in the shadows beneath her eyes and the way her shoulders tense when she hears his name.
I’m finally going to make him pay for all of it.
I’m not doing this to win. I’m doing this because he needs sense knocked back into him.
Chapter twenty-nine
ETHAN
It all happens fast.
Too fast.
I see Jake tense from across the garden—shoulders tight, jaw locked, that split-second of stillness right before everything explodes. I know that look. I’ve seen it on the ice, in bar fights, in locker rooms. It meansmove.
One second, Nick’s grabbing Maya’s wrist like he owns her, and the next, Jake’s there—lethal, cutting through the noise like a warning bell.
And then Nick throws the first punch.
“Shit.”
I’m already moving. My drink hits the grass behind me as I weave through the crowd, cutting past guests who’ve started to notice the tension spiking like electricity in the air.
I see Liam reach Maya first—his hand on her elbow, pulling her back, murmuring something low and steady in her ear. She doesn’t budge.
Her eyes are locked on the two figures disappearing behind the hedges, her face pale and stunned.
My jaw tightens. “Stay with her,” I tell Liam as I pass, and then I’m sprinting after Jake.
By the time I round the corner, they’re full-on brawling.
Jake’s holding his own, but Nick’s wild—sloppy and mean, all boiling ego and rage. His movements are erratic, fueled by something deeper than just too much whiskey.
This isn’t about tonight. This is every crack in his pride, every inch of control he’s ever lost, every part of Maya that slipped through his fingers and landed somewhere better.
Jake ducks a punch and lands one in return, sending Nick stumbling into the side of a shed with a grunt. Gravel sprays underfoot. The dull thud of fists against flesh echoes off the wooden slats of the house.
I move in just as Nick recovers and launches at Jake again, spitting blood and venom.
“You think you’re some goddamn saint?” Nick snarls, staggering but vicious. “All of you—pretending like you’re above it. Like you’re not all just trying to get into her pants.”
I step in fast, shoving Jake back with a forearm to his chest. He doesn’t fight me—his chest is heaving, his knuckles bleeding, but he trusts me enough to pause. For now.
“It’s over,” I snap at Nick. “Back off.”
