Page 157 of Entangled

“No, of course not,” I fire back, furious. And oddly defensive. “This is different. ItoldJaykob that I had feelings for all of you—including him.Youall made this stupid deal. You all made me love you, and now what?” My brow crumples. I think my heart does too. “It’s awful, and Ihateit. Heather was right. This whole idea that we all might work was too ambitious. It’s all too much.”

And it hurts to realize it. It might kill me. Because howamI meant to choose?

Surely, they’ll have to do it. I can’t. It would break me.

At Heather’s name, Lucky rolls his eyes. “Sure, trust the woman who skewered half of our hearts and the rest of our egos. Great plan.”

“Don’t be facetious.”

“You’re a hypocrite.” At the word, my back stiffens, and he smiles sourly. “How can you think it’s possible for you to love multiple people just the same amount, but that I can’t do the same? We’re crazy complex people, Eden. Not everyone can be everything for someone. You and me, we can’t be each other’s dominants—but is that really the only thing you need from a partner?”

“Lucky, stop,” I whisper.

He’s pressing at my hopes, the things I’d started to believe. But I’m not the girl I was even a few weeks ago. I’m not one woman among five men.

I’m a wreck. A mess. And they have dozens of wonderful opportunities now at their doorstep. How can I keep all of them? How terribly selfish can I be?

Lucky lifts his hands, like he’s begging me to see. His face is heartbreakingly earnest.

“No, I won’t stop. You know I’m right. You need me too, Eden. The doms are heavy on their rules and orders. You need someone to be onyourteam, even when it doesn’t make sense. You need someone to help you keep them in line—they always think it’s the other way around, but us subbies know better. You need me to make you laugh, and someone to just play with, and someone to fuck sometimes with zero expectations. Because whatever they think, vanilla doesn’t mean boring. Not always. Not when it’s us.”

I step back, and my back hits the breakfast bar. The plug is a mockery, a cruelty now. Because suddenly I’m thinking that Lucky wouldknowwhat it feels like. And if things were different, maybe I could talk to him about it. If things were different, maybe he’d tease me about it. Maybe he’d want to see. Maybe he could explain the things I’m too embarrassed to ask Beau, but I know he would understand—like why the pressure is sometimes good and sometimes bad, and if it feels different when it’s a cock and not a plug, and what to do when they’re putting it in.

And I do want to spend hours and days making kimchi and laughing and learning new games. I want Jaykob to chase me and Lucky to hide me, Beau to comfort me and Dom to own me, and Jasper to shelter me at his feet.

I bury my face in my hands, my tears coming fast now. It’s cruel of them to make me want it when it’s not mine to have. Why is Lucky confusing me like this?

He stops in front of me, and I can feel his urgency.

“I need it too, Eden. I needyou.” His voice aches. “Jasper is one part of me, and he always will be. But I need you, Eden. Because he’ll always be cold sometimes, and you’re everything that’s warm. He hurts me in ways that make me sing, but you always make me feelgood. It’s not about better, or more. You both make me dizzy. You both make me ache. And if I could spend the rest of my life loving both of you, I couldn’t imagine one better spent.”

I’m sobbing now, hopelessly confused.

Blurrily, I see him catch a teary breath, then wipe at his own cheeks.

Finally, he whispers, “I can’t make decisions for you, sweetheart. This is your battle. But think about how you’re going to have this same conversation with Jayk. How are you going to make him believe it if you don’t believe it yourself?”

It might be my battle, but he’s the one landing the blows. Each one devastating. Perfectly placed to kill.

I shake my head, holding it like I can keep it together with my hands alone. I’m straining at the seams.

“God, Eden,” he chokes. “Your problem is that you don’t think anyone would choose you—so you don’t even let yourself believe that it could be real. Fuck Heather. Fight for yourself. Be brave.” Lucky’s voice softens. “I hate that anyone ever told you that you couldn’t have it all.”

I curl into myself at that, raw, pained sounds emptying out of me.

A hundred moments play in my head—all the times my hand was beaten for reaching, and wanting was called grasping, all the moments I was told to lower my eyes instead of lifting my chin. How they somehow made me less, and never more.

“I’m not going to sleep with Jasper, Eden. Not until you make a decision—because whatever you think, he’s not first, and I need both of you to understand that before anything happens. It’s both of you for me. It always will be.”

I hear Lucky’s deep breath.

“And one final thing,” he rasps. “I know you don’t want to see Jasper at the moment, either. But this way you’re feeling? Angry, and out of control, and anxious, and all out of sorts? All the thoughts that are messing you up about whatever happened? It’s called PTSD, and you need to see him about it. Think of it as a combat-given gunshot wound to your mental health. See a professional before you bleed the hell out in front of us.”

My sobs cut off, and I pause. I lift my head, staring at him tensely.

How could he possibly know all of that?

I know PTSD exists, of course. But that has nothing to do with my guilt. Being a weak and terrible person is not a disorder. That’s what this is, not... that.

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