"That's not the point—"
The front door swings open—because of course Jett has a key, of course she'd just walk right in—and suddenly there's no more time to panic.
"Why is the door unlocked? Reece, we've talked about this. Small town doesn't mean—" Jett rounds the corner into the kitchen, words dying mid-sentence as she takes in the scene. Me. In Reece's flannel. His hand still on my hip.
The coffee maker gurgling behind us, two mugs already set out on the counter. The bacon I've burned to a crisp. The hallway mistletoe visible just over Jett's shoulder, still hanging there in mid-January like a neon sign pointing to our secret.
Jett's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
"Holy fireballs," she finally breathes out.
"Jett—" I start, but she holds up a hand, her eyes darting between us like she's trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing.
"Wait.Wait." She takes a step back, then forward, then back again. Her hands are already moving to tangle in her dark hair—a classic Jett anxiety tell. "Is this—are you two—oh my gosh! You'retogether, together."
"We can explain—" Reece begins, but Jett is already spiraling.
"Together as intogether, not just the weird flirty-fighty thing you've been doing since college. Actual together. Like she's wearing your shirt and you made her coffee the way she likes it—extra shot, oat milk, that fancy vanilla syrup—and there's only two mugs, which means you knew she'd be here and—"
She whirls on me. "How long? No wait, don't tell me. Actually yes, tell me. Wait, no—how did this even—when did you—" She stops abruptly, eyes widening. "The storage closet incident."
Reece and I exchange a glance.
"That wasn't just a one-time thing, was it?" Jett's voice has gone quiet, which is somehow worse than the rapid-fire questions. "You two have been...what? Hooking up? Dating? Having some kind of secret relationship while I've been completely oblivious?"
"Jett, please, just sit down and let us—"
"How long?" She looks at me now, and the hurt in her amber eyes makes my chest ache. "How long have you been lying to me, McKenna?"
"We weren't lying—"
"Omitting, then. Hiding. Pick your euphemism." She throws my own words back at me, because of course she does. Jett might be chaotic, but she's never not paying attention. "How. Long."
I glance at Reece, looking for backup, but he just nods. Taking a breath, I force myself to meet Jett's eyes.
"It's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it."
"College," I admit quietly. "It started in college. Sort of. We'd hook up sometimes, when we were both single, and it was just...physical. No strings. And then it stopped, and then it started again, and—"
"And the storage closet?" Her voice is eerily calm now.
Reece steps forward. "Last year. You and Noah had just started dating, and McKenna was in town for your birthday. We ran into each other at Riley's, things got...heated, and Jace walked in on us making out in his storage closet."
"Jaceknew?" Jett's voice cracks on the last word. "Jace knew and didn't tell me?"
"We asked him not to," I say quickly. "It wasn't his secret to tell."
"But it was yours to keep?" The tears are starting now, even though she's trying to blink them back. "From me? From yourbest friend?"
"We were going to tell you—"
"When? After you got married? After I figured it out myself?" She swipes at her eyes, frustrated. "Did you really think I couldn't handle it? I'm chaotic, not fragile. I've been through ahell of a lot worse than my brother and best friend falling for each other."
"That's not—we didn't think—"
"What did you think, then?" She looks between us, and I can see her trying to piece it together, trying to make sense of why we'd hide this. "That I'd be mad? Make it weird? Choose sides?"
