“It… kind of took off,” I say, voice quieter now. “Like, people started reading. Commenting. It became this whole community. And—” I hesitate, feeling the urge to retreat. “I even started working on my own romance novel.”
That gets his eyebrows up. “You’re writing a book?”
I nod, warmth flooding my cheeks. “It’s only half-finished, but… I think it’s good. At least, I’m proud of it. And I realized—I’ve been hiding it from everyone because I was scared. But I don’t want to hide anymore. I wanted you to know, because you’re my brother and I… I care about what you think.”
For a second, Liam just stares at me. Not in disbelief, but like he’s turning this over in his head. Then he leans back, resting the mug on his knee. “Olive… that’s actually pretty damn cool.”
Relief hits me so fast I almost laugh. “Really?”
“Really. I mean, you’ve clearly put in the work. And if it makes you happy, I’m all for it.” He gives me a crooked smile. “Although I’m gonna reserve the right to make fun of any characters you name after me.”
I grin, tension slipping out of my shoulders. “Deal.”
Upstairs, I hear the faint rush of the shower. Ash must’ve finally woken up. I figure he’ll be up there for a while—he’s the type to linger under hot water until it runs cold.
Liam nods toward the laptop. “So, do I get to read any of it, or are you keeping me in suspense?”
I slide it across the coffee table, the document already open to the first chapter. My palms are clammy, but my voice stays steady.
“Okay,” I say, forcing a smile. “No pressure. Just… tell me what you think.”
He gives me a long, assessing look—half big brother skepticism, half genuine curiosity—before turning the screen toward himself. “Alright. Let’s see what all the secrecy’s been about.”
The moment he starts reading, the room goes quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. I curl my legs beneath me and wrap my hands around my mug, pretending I’m fine, pretending my heart isn’t trying to punch its way out of my chest.
Every now and then, his brow furrows or the corner of his mouth quirks upward, but he doesn’t say a word. The silence stretches, my nerves tightening with it.
I’m so focused on reading his micro-expressions that I almost miss the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.
“Morning, Hart,” Ash drawls, voice rough from sleep. “You recovered from last night yet?”
My heart lurches. “Ash—”
He keeps going, oblivious. “Because you were loud. Real loud.”
Silence.
I swear I can hear Liam’s coffee mug settle onto the table with a faintclink. Slowly, his head turns toward me, then toward Ash. His brows knit, suspicion sharpening his gaze.
Ash steps into view, damp hair dripping from the shower, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. When his eyes land on Liam, his easy posture changes—shoulders squaring, jaw tightening. “…Hey.”
Liam’s voice is deceptively calm. “What exactly were you doing with my sister last night?”
I sit up straighter, heart kicking into overdrive. “Liam—”
“We were sleeping,” he says, voice measured.
Liam’s eyes narrow. “Sleeping. That’s it?”
Ash meets his gaze without blinking. “Liam. You’ve known me long enough to know I wouldn’t hurt her.” His voice is calm, but I can see the tension in his jaw, like he’s choosing every word carefully.
“That’s not an answer,” Liam says, his tone cooling further. “You can play word games with reporters. Not with me.”
Ash exhales slowly, like he’s counting to three. “Olive and I got close these last few weeks.”
Liam’s jaw tightens. “Close.” The word drips with skepticism. “Are you sleeping with her is what I wanna know?”
The silence that follows is sharp enough to cut skin. Ash doesn’t look away, doesn’t hedge.
