Page 95 of Vegas with my Ex’s Best Friends

Connor goes quiet when he reads a room. I’ve seen it before. He doesn’t react first. He takes it in.

His gaze moves—Liam, standing closer to me than he should be. Andrew, jaw tight. Ethan, still looking at me instead of Connor.

That’s the moment Connor catches.

Something shifts in his expression.

“Which one of you is it?”

Not a question. Just naming something he already knows.

No one answers.

No one denies it.

Connor exhales once. Slow. Measured. Like something in him settles into place.

I look at them.

Liam’s attention is locked on Connor. Andrew’s chin is slightly down—not guilt, just bracing. Ethan is still looking at me, steady, like he’s making sure I’m okay.

I look back at my brother.

Here’s what I know about Connor:

He held it together at our parents’ funeral when I couldn’t. Sixteen years old, standing at the door of the reception hall, thanking people I didn’t even recognize while I sat in the back staring at the carpet. He made the calls. Signed the papers. Took care of everything that came next.

And he never once let me see where it hurt. He knew there was someone. I never gave him a name.

When Andrew disappeared on me at twenty-one, Connor showed up at my dorm, took me to dinner, and didn’t ask a single question. Just sat there while I sulked, paid the check, and drove me home.

He’s always been the one I could count on.

Right now his face is white. Not tired or the pale that comes with bad news. Something behind it has just shut off. Then the color comes back, slow and controlled. He straightens.

“Get out.”

He says it like he’s asking someone to pass the salt.

I could handle shouting. At least that burns out. This—this quiet, steady tone—has nowhere to go.

His eyes move to Liam.

“Get out of my apartment.”

Then Andrew.

Then Ethan.

“All three of you. Out. Now.”

No one moves.

Liam doesn’t shift an inch. “We’re not leaving Riley.”

Connor looks at him, waiting for that to make sense.

“This is my apartment.”