Page 44 of Shared by my Ex’s Best Friends (Twisted Desires #2)
Chapter forty-three
MAYA
T he text comes in just after breakfast, while I’m rinsing dishes in the sink, the scent of coffee still lingering in the air and the soft hum of a lullaby playing from the monitor in the living room.
A droplet of warm water slips down my wrist as I reach for the phone buzzing against the windowsill.
Nick: We should talk.
I freeze. My hand hovers over the dish towel, breath caught mid-inhale. My heart thuds once, twice, then starts pounding a little too fast, like it’s already imagining every possible version of the conversation he wants to have.
I stare at the message, thumb resting on the screen.
Part of me wants to swipe it away. Pretend I didn’t see it. Pretend that part of my life is over, boxed up and buried beneath everything I’ve built since.
But the other part—the steadier part, the one that’s grown stronger because of the three men who remind me every day that I’m allowed to take up space—knows I need to face this.
I respond with a simple: Okay. Where?
We settle on the park near my old place. Neutral ground.
It’s an overcast afternoon, the sky a dull gray, and the wind carries the scent of fall—dry leaves tumbling across the pavement and that crispness in the air that makes you want to pull your jacket tighter.
I wrap my scarf a little higher around my neck as I walk, the familiarity of the path under my feet making my stomach churn.
He’s already there.
Nick stands near the bench under the big sycamore tree, the one I used to sit under during long phone calls and daydreams I thought were safe. His arms are crossed over his chest, fingers tapping restlessly against his elbow.
He’s wearing the same leather jacket I once used to borrow when I was cold, but now it looks like armor instead of comfort.
He doesn’t move when I approach. Just watches me with that unreadable expression I used to work so hard to interpret—like if I could figure it out, I could fix things.
Not anymore.
“Hey,” I say, stopping a few feet away.
He gives a single nod. “Hey.”
We start walking without saying anything else. The path curves gently past the playground—empty this time of day—and loops near the duck pond, where the water ripples lazily beneath the breeze.
Gravel crunches beneath our feet with every step, sharp and loud in the silence between us. Birds chirp overhead, and a distant dog barks, but none of it touches the tension coiling inside my chest like a spring ready to snap.
Then he says it.
“So it’s true? You’re with all three of them?”
His voice is flat, but I hear the bite under it. The disbelief. The judgment.
I don’t flinch. “Yes. I love them.”
He scoffs, like the idea of that is absurd. “I don’t get it. You were never like this before.”
I stop walking and turn to face him fully, keeping my spine straight even as my pulse hammers in my ears.
“I was never allowed to be,” I say, my voice calm but firm. “With you, I always had to be what you needed. With them… I get to be who I really am.”
He blinks, taken aback by the force behind my words. For a second, I see something flicker across his face. Guilt? Shame?
He doesn’t answer. Just shoves his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and keeps walking, slower now. When he speaks again, his voice has dropped to something low and bitter.
“You’re pregnant, too. Who’s the dad?”
That’s when I stop cold.
“Wow,” I say, taking a step back. The word cuts out of me like a whip. “That’s not your business.”
He exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. His shoulders sag a little, like I’ve deflated something in him. Good. Let it deflate.
“I didn’t expect you to move on so fast,” he mutters, voice quieter now.
“I didn’t either,” I admit, watching the wind tug at the sleeve of his jacket. A few golden leaves swirl around us, catching the light as they fall. “But I’m happy now, Nick. Really happy.”
I pause, letting the words settle, not just for him, but for me too.
“I hope someday you can be, too.”
His expression shifts. The stiffness in his jaw eases, the tension in his shoulders softens like air slowly leaking from a balloon.
He nods, slow and almost reluctant, like letting go of the last thread of bitterness hurts more than he expected.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For what it’s worth.”
The words land softly, less a confession and more a release.
Maybe I don’t believe every piece of it, not completely, but… yeah. In this moment, I think he means it.
I glance back at the bench beneath the sycamore tree, where I once sat and convinced myself that love meant shrinking so someone else could stretch out. I don’t feel small now.
Nick shifts like he’s about to turn away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he hesitates, flicking his gaze back up to mine. “Do they know what we had?” he asks, quieter now. “How serious it was?”
I meet his stare without flinching. “They know everything that matters,” I say firmly. “And they still chose me.” I let that sink in before adding, “That should tell you something.”
His eyes flicker—just a flash of something raw and complicated—and I turn to leave before either of us can start pulling old wounds open again.
I walk down the winding path, boots crunching over gravel and fallen leaves, past the bench, the empty swings, the duck pond where the surface glints silver under the pale afternoon sun.
Every step feels like I’m shedding something. Anger, guilt, whatever pieces of myself I’d left behind with him.
But before I reach the gate, his voice slices through the stillness again.
“I talked to Liam, you know.”
I stop, my heart kicking once in my chest. Slowly, I turn back.
He steps closer, his hands no longer shoved in his pockets.
“I stopped him in the street like an idiot,” he says, more embarrassed than defensive. “Expecting a fight or something. I don’t know what I thought I was gonna prove.”
“And?” I ask, my voice steady.
“He just… shut me down,” he says with a huff, almost a laugh at his own expense. “Told me to move on. Told me they’re not letting you go.”
A rush of heat spreads through my chest—equal parts pride, love, and something fiercely protective. I smile. It’s not smug. It’s something deeper.
“Good,” I say. “I’m glad he did.”
Nick nods once, slowly. “They’re better for you.” He swallows hard. “I see that now.”
This time, when he turns to go, I know he won’t be looking back.
No parting shots. No dramatic pleas. Just quiet acceptance and the final echo of something that used to feel endless.
I breathe. For real this time. A deep, full breath that fills every inch of my lungs, like I’ve been holding it in for years without realizing.
By the time I get home, dusk has settled over everything. Light spills from the living room windows and laughter drifts from the kitchen.
The door creaks as I open it, and they’re all there—Jake, Ethan, Liam.
Jake looks up first, that familiar cocky grin tugging at his lips, but it falters, just a little, when his eyes scan my face like he’s checking for invisible bruises.
His smile softens. Warms.
Ethan’s already halfway to me, arms open, steady and waiting like he knew I’d need to fall into them the second I stepped inside.
Liam lingers behind, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his eyes calm and sure, like he’s been standing guard without needing to move.
They don’t even ask. They just know.
I step into their embrace, letting all three of them surround me—Jake’s arms sliding around my waist from behind, Ethan’s hand brushing over my hair, Liam’s steady touch on my shoulder.
For the first time in a long, long time, there’s no echo of the past dragging me down.