“I thought you wanted answers,” I reply, trying to push down the edge in my voice.
“I want control,” Wade snaps. A heavy silence stretches before his next words come with a warning. “And I want to know if you’re still on my side.”
The question hangs in the air, thick and dangerous. I smile even though he can’t see it, letting it bleed into my voice. “I’ve always been on your side,” I say, smoothly. “That’s why I called you back so quickly.” Silence.
“Good,” he says. “Because this just escalated.” I end the call before he can say anything else. Wade just turned up the pressure. And less time than we wanted.
When I turn back, Cam’s already hunched over his laptop, pulling logs, and muttering under his breath. Lila’s watching Kiera with a fierce, protective intensity—the kind of look that says she’s ready to throw hands at God himself if he so much as blinks wrong. She exhales slowly, the only sound in the quiet room. “Wade just took time from us. Whatever is next in the plan…”
Cam cuts me off, “We don’t slow down.”
Kiera’s eyes are back on me, something dark and determined settling behind them. “Good,” she says. “Because I’m done letting him breathe comfortably.”
The finality of her words lands heavily in the room. No one argues or needs convincing. Whatever line we crossed, we crossed it together. I break the silence before it turns into something else. “Let’s do something normal.”
Kiera blinks at me, dumbfounded. “You’ve officially lost your fucking mind.”
“Possibly,” I shrug. “But if we don’t force normal into this, we’ll be the ones losing our minds in the end.”
Lila perks up instantly, eyes brightening with her familiar mischief. “Define normal,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because after the last few hours, my standards are somewhere in the basement.”
Cam shuts his laptop with a decisive click. “No screens that fight back.”
Kiera tilts her head, contemplating ideas. “A movie?”
Lila lights up like a pyro who just found the matches. “A chick flick?”
Cam grimaces, already shaking his head. “Absolutely fucking not.”
“Too late,” she says, reaching for the remote. “We’re emotionally fragile, underslept, and one bad decision away from a meltdown. That means forced romance, predictable endings, and at least one shirtless scene. Therapist’s orders.”
“We’re in the middle of psychological warfare,” Cam argues, voice tight with irritation.
“And yet,” Lila replies sweetly, batting her lashes with exaggerated innocence, “love still finds a way.”
Ten minutes later, we’re on the couch anyway. The movie is loud, glossy, and aggressively unrealistic—full of misunderstandings and a third-act breakup we all see coming from a mile away. Lila comments on every single scene like she’s providing director’s commentary. Cam mutters complaints about the timeline. Kiera laughs despite herself. She’s curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket pulled up to her chin, knees tucked tight. I take the spot beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of her body. She leans into me when something embarrassing happens onscreen, hiding her face for half a second before peeking back out.
“This is painful,” Cam mutters, staring at the screen like it personally offended him.
“This is art,” Lila snaps, full of righteous indignation. I don’t say anything. I just let it happen.
Kiera relaxes into me as the movie plays on. I’ve missed most of it. I’m too busy watching her and the way her breathing slowly evens out. The way she shifts, her shoulder presses more firmly against mine—unconsciously letting herself relax. The film swells to its inevitable happy ending: confessions, grand gestures, a kiss that fixes everything. Lila sighs dramatically. “If real life worked like that, we’d all be fine.”
Cam snorts. “Statistically impossible.”
Kiera glances up at me, her lips twitching faintly. “Still nice to pretend…even if it’s just for a little while.”
I nod, voice soft. “Yeah. It is.”Even if I was never meant to have it.
The credits fade out, and the screen goes dark, briefly reflecting our silhouettes at us like a ghost in the glass. No one moves right away. It’s like we’re all pretending the movie is still going, that if we stay still enough, the ending will stick. Lila breaks first. “If only love like that existed.”
Cam exhales slowly, gaze fixed on the dark screen, then mutters quietly, almost to himself. “If love like that existed…maybe it wouldn’t leave you with blood on your hands long after the lights come on.”
Kiera exhales slowly. “Maybe some of us were never meant to have that kind of love.”
I shift closer, my arm sliding along the back of the couch until my fingers rest against the nape of Kiera’s neck—a quiet claim. I don’t look at Cam. My gaze stays locked on her, heavy and unyielding. “Then we don’t chase the movie ending,” I murmur, voice low and rough against her ear. “We carve our own. And if it bleeds… we make damn sure the blood isn’t ours.”
Cam groans as he hauls himself off the couch. “I need water. And possibly therapy after that.”
