Page 33 of Shared by my Ex’s Best Friends (Twisted Desires #2)
Chapter thirty-three
JAKE
T he beer in my hand is already warm. I haven’t even touched it.
Which says a lot.
Liam’s place is all modern-rustic vibes - clean lines, warm woods, stainless steel, and just enough personality to keep it from feeling like a model home.
Right now, it’s just the three of us slouched around his kitchen table, a slab of reclaimed wood that probably cost more than my first car. There’s an open bag of pretzels in the middle, untouched. A half-empty bottle of whiskey Liam brought out before realizing no one was in the mood.
The fridge hums quietly behind us, the only real sound in the room besides the occasional creak of a shifting chair.
We look like exhausted dads at a PTA meeting—if PTA meetings involved three grown men trying to figure out how to be in a relationship with the same woman.
Liam leans forward, arms braced on the table, jaw tight. “We can’t keep floating like this.”
“Floating?” I raise a brow. “We’re not floating. We’re gliding. Gracefully. Like synchronized swans.”
No one laughs.
Ethan just gives me a slow blink. Liam’s face doesn’t budge.
Tough crowd.
Ethan finally speaks, “It’s working now, but that won’t last if we don’t give her something solid to hold on to. This is new territory and Maya doesn’t like it when she doesn’t know the layout of things. She needs more than words.”
I tip my chair back and let it balance dangerously on the back legs. “Yeah, but what does that even look like? A ring? Three rings? A shared Google calendar and a therapist on retainer?”
Still nothing.
I sigh and let the chair thud back to the ground. “Okay, wow. No one even cracked a smile? Harsh.”
Liam drags a hand through his hair, frustration etching new lines into his forehead.
“She’s scared,” he says, quieter now. “I see it in her face. She keeps waiting for this to fall apart.”
My chest tightens. “Can you blame her? We’re writing our own rules here.”
Ethan taps his finger against the wood, steady, rhythmic. Thinking. “So maybe we make it more official. More permanent.”
I look at him. “You got a plan?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Not exactly, but I’ve been thinking—we’ve been rotating nights, going on dates, staying over at her place… it’s starting to feel like borrowed time.”
Liam nods, slow and solemn. “Because it is borrowed time. She’s doing all the work—hosting us, balancing us, carrying the weight of all our needs while pretending she’s fine.”
That one lands hard.
I sit up straighter, planting both feet on the ground. “So what if we do something big? Something real. Something she can see .”
Ethan lifts a brow. “Like?”
I glance between them, and the idea comes out before I have time to second-guess it. “We get a place.”
Liam’s brow furrows. “A place?”
“Together. The three of us. For her.”
The room goes still.
Not the kind of still that means resistance. The kind that means attention. Focus. Like everyone’s brain just clicked into gear at the same time.
Ethan leans back, thoughtful. “You mean… live together?”
“Yeah,” I say, a slow heat curling through me.
“Why not? We’re already basically doing it half the week.
Rotating nights, waking up in the same bed, eating in her kitchen like it’s ours.
What’s stopping us from making it official?
Somewhere she doesn’t have to wonder who’s staying over or where she fits.
She just… belongs. We’ve already decided we’re all in, right. ”
Liam exhales like he’s been holding it in since we started. “That’s a big step so soon.”
“No bigger than the one she takes every time she chooses us,” I say, and my voice cracks a little from the weight behind it.
“She lets us love her and she never asks for more than we can give. But I think…” I press my thumb into the wood grain.
“I think she’s starting to wonder how long that’s going to be enough. ”
Ethan folds his arms across his chest, nodding slowly. “A house. Something with enough space. Neutral ground. Ours.”
“For her,” Liam adds, softer now.
I grin. “For all of us.”
And I see it.
A house with a porch light that stays on until all of us are home. Maya’s favorite mugs in the cabinet next to Ethan’s precise rows of tea. Liam’s free weights stashed in the garage beside my pile of half-finished DIY furniture.
A shared space. A real life.
“She’s not going to ask for this,” Liam says after a pause, voice quiet. “You know that, right? Even if she wants it.”
“She shouldn’t have to,” Ethan says.
I nod. “It’s time we show up the way she does.”
Ethan leans forward again, more focused now. “Okay. So we make a list. Figure out what we need. What she needs. Location, size, layout.”
“With a big yard,” Liam says. “And an office. Doesn’t have to be fancy, just hers.”
“And sunlight,” I add. “She loves when the morning light hits just right. You’ve seen her in the kitchen with her tea when it streams in? That’s where she’s happiest.”
They both smile at that.
The room goes quiet again—but this time, it’s not hesitation. It’s purpose .
Something’s shifted.
This is it. The moment we stop reacting and start building.
We started this whole thing like a spark to gasoline—fast, messy, intense.
But this is something else. This is the slow burn. The roots digging deep.
Maya’s been holding the weight of all this, thinking she has to stay small so we don’t feel overwhelmed. Thinking if she reaches too far, it’ll all come apart.
But we’re not fragile.
We’re ready.
All in. Now it’s time to show her. With walls and windows and space carved out just for us. With a future that lives past midnight kisses and whispered promises. With a home.
Hers.
Ours.
Real.