Page 12 of Shared by my Ex’s Best Friends (Twisted Desires #2)
Chapter twelve
ETHAN
I drive slower than usual.
The city’s thinned out, all neon glows and empty intersections. The occasional car hums past, but mostly it’s quiet. The kind of quiet that presses in around you, makes everything feel more fragile. Like if I exhale too hard, the night might splinter.
Maya’s quiet too, curled against the passenger door, her head resting lightly on the window.
Her eyes are half-lidded, lashes catching the low streetlights.
She looks soft. Not in the delicate sense but in that way people do when they’ve finally let go of something heavy, even if just for a little while.
The rooftop bar was good for her. Good for all of us, maybe, but especially her. She needed the air. The laughter. The escape.
And—selfishly—I needed to see her like that. Not unraveling or stretching herself thin for everyone else. She’s just… Maya.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She turns her head, blinking like she forgot where she was for a second. “Yeah,” she says, voice sleepy. “Just tired.”
We lapse into silence again.
Halfway to her place, I speak again. “I’ve been meaning to ask… why did you start the bridesmaid business?”
She glances at me, brow lifting slightly. “What, like what made me wake up one day and decide to step in to help with strangers’ weddings as a bridesmaid?”
I smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”
She exhales, lets out a short laugh, and looks out the windshield like she’s watching the memory play on the dark road ahead.
“It was supposed to be temporary. I had this friend—total mess. Her bridal party bailed a month before the wedding. She called me sobbing. I showed up, handled things. Then one of the vendors asked for my card.”
“And you just… rolled with it?”
“I was broke,” she says, voice light but edged with something else. “Fresh out of grad school, sleeping on a futon, living off caffeine and microwave noodles. People kept calling. I kept saying yes.” She pauses. “I liked being needed. I liked being good at something.”
There’s more. I can hear it in the way her voice drops, in the space between her words.
“But?” I prompt gently.
She’s quiet for a minute. When her voice comes again, it’s softer, a little distant. “Somewhere along the way, I forgot it was supposed to be temporary. I forgot what I wanted before all of this.”
“What did you want?” I ask, barely more than a whisper now.
She doesn’t answer at first. Just stares out the window, fingers curling slightly against her thigh.
“Something that felt like mine,” she says finally. “Something where I’m not playing a part, but am wholly myself.”
Something in me tightens. Maybe it’s the way she says it—like it’s an ache she doesn’t realize she’s been carrying. Or maybe it’s because I know that feeling too well.
I don’t think about it. I reach across the console and let my fingers brush hers where her hand rests on her knee. Her skin is warm. She doesn’t pull away.
“Maya,” I say. Her name feels heavier than usual. More significant.
She turns to me and when our eyes meet, I forget how to breathe.
“I see the woman who keeps everyone together. Who carries things no one else even notices. The one who never lets herself fall apart. I see you,” I tell her. “Not just the planner. Not just the fixer. You. All of you.”
We pull up in front of her building, and I realize I have no memory of the last few blocks. My knuckles are tight on the wheel, but it’s not the drive I’m holding on to. It’s her.
She leans in before I can talk myself out of it.
Or maybe I lean first. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.
We meet in the middle.
The kiss is nothing like I imagined. It’s not soft or tentative—it’s all the things we’ve been trying not to feel. Heat and hesitation. Want and warning.
Her lips part against mine like she’s been holding her breath for hours. I drink her in like I’ve been waiting as long. Her hands find my hair, fingers threading through it. My world narrows to the taste of her—bourbon and something sweeter I can’t name.
My hand slips to her waist without thought. I pull her closer. Too close.
That’s when I make myself stop.
I pull back, breath ragged, my forehead resting against hers.
“Ethan…” She whispers my name and the soft tone of her voice shoots through me, making my dick twitch.
“I shouldn’t have,” I say, even though I already know I’d do it again. Even though every part of me is screaming that I should have done it a long time ago.
She leans back enough to look at me, brows knitting. “Why?”
Because if I go any further, I won’t stop.
Because Jake kissed her. Because Liam looks at her like she’s already his, and Jake… he doesn’t hide it. I’d be the third man in line to complicate her life. And she deserves better than that.
She deserves one person brave enough to love her unconditionally not three men too scared to stake their claim.
“I don’t want to be another thing that makes your life more complicated,” I say. “And I think if I touch you again, I won’t stop.”
Her expression softens, but there’s a flicker of hurt, too. She nods, slowly, then opens the door.
I watch her walk up to her building. She doesn’t look back.
Only when the door closes behind her do I let my head fall back against the headrest. The leather’s cool against my neck. My heart’s still hammering like it’s trying to tell me something I’m not ready to hear.
The taste of her lingers.
I already know—I’m not getting over this.
She’s not mine. But tonight, I kissed her like she was.
And that’s going to ruin me.