He Was My Brother’s Best Friend

He was never supposed to look at me like that.
And I definitely wasn?t supposed to want him to.

But the way he watches me now?
like he?s already crossed a line he can?t come back from?

changes everything.

This isn?t a mistake.

This is something worse.

Chapter 1 – I Got the Job

The words didn’t feel real.

“Perfect. We will be in contact via email. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to reach out. Happy to have you as part of the team, Scarlett.”

I just sat there.

Phone pressed to my ear. Heart pounding so hard it was almost painful. Mouth slightly open, like if I breathed wrong, the whole thing would disappear and I’d find out I’d imagined it.

Then the line went dead.

The call had ended.

And still I didn’t move.

I stared at the dark screen of my phone, my reflection staring back at me in the glass with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, like she couldn’t quite believe it either.

I got it.

The thought hit me once, hard and bright.

Then again.

Then all at once.

“I got it,” I whispered, and my voice came out breathless, unsteady. “I got it.”

The room around me felt too small for it. Too quiet. Too normal.

I had spent weeks trying not to hope too hard. Trying not to build my life around a possibility that could vanish with one polite rejection email. I had replayed the interview in my head so many times I could practically recite my own answers. I had laid awake wondering if I’d smiled enough, if I’d sounded too nervous, if I’d said something stupid without realizing it.

And now—

Now I had the job.

A real job.

A paralegal position at Nikodem.

Not an internship. Not a maybe. Not a “we’ll keep your résumé on file.”

Mine.

“Scarlett?”

Sam’s voice broke through the haze, and I looked up to find him already half out of his chair, his brows drawn together in that way they always did when he was trying to read me.

“Well?” he asked.

I think I smiled before I even meant to. It just happened, bursting out of me too fast to contain.

“I got it.”

For half a second, Sam only stared at me. Then he broke into a grin.

“You got it?”

“I got it.”

He laughed, that warm, easy laugh of his, and in the next second he was crossing the room and pulling me into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the breath out of me.

“Oh my God,” he said into my hair. “Scarlett, I knew it. I told you. I told you.”

I laughed too, but it came out shaky, almost collapsing into something else entirely. Relief. Joy. Disbelief. I could feel tears pressing at the backs of my eyes, that awful embarrassing kind that came when you were so overwhelmingly happy your body didn’t know what to do with it.

I clutched the back of his shirt and squeezed my eyes shut.

“I hang up the phone and Sam grabs me and hugs me… I am so overwhelmingly happy I could cry.”

And I almost did.

The words from the call kept replaying in my head, over and over, like if I repeated them enough they might settle into something real. Happy to have you as part of the team, Scarlett.

A part of the team.

Me.

When I finally pulled back, Sam’s hands stayed warm on my arms, steadying me.

“There she is,” he said softly, smiling down at me. “Future hotshot paralegal.”

I let out a breathless laugh. “Don’t jinx it.”

“It’s not a jinx if they literally offered you the job.”

I pressed a hand over my mouth, still trying to contain the grin stretching across my face. “This feels insane.”

“This feels right.”

For a second I just looked at him. Sam had always had this way of saying things so simply they cut through all the noise in my head. Like the world was straightforward and kind and reasonable, and if I just slowed down long enough, I’d see it too.

Maybe that was part of why being with him felt so easy.

Maybe that was why I loved him.

The thought came quietly, familiar and soft.

Then a new one crashed right over it.

My family.

I had to tell them.

I grabbed Sam’s wrist without thinking. “Sam, can you drive me home?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I can’t wait to tell my family.” The words tumbled out of me fast, rushing over each other. “I need to tell them right now before I explode.”

His smile widened. “Yeah. Of course.”

I was already snatching up my bag and phone, adrenaline making everything inside me buzz. “Come on.”

Sam laughed under his breath as he followed me out. “You’re acting like they’re going to rescind the offer if you don’t announce it in the next ten minutes.”

“They might,” I shot back, and he rolled his eyes affectionately.

By the time we got to the car, I was barely thinking in full sentences.

I got it.

I got it.

I got it.

Everything outside the window blurred into meaningless streaks of green and gray as Sam drove. Houses. Trees. Mailboxes. Stop signs. None of it felt real. My mind kept jumping ahead—to my parents’ faces, to Liam’s reaction, to the way my mom would probably cry and my dad would do that proud smile he tried to play off like he wasn’t emotional.

I could already hear the questions.

When do you start?
Did they say what your hours would be?
Did you accept right away?
What exactly will you be doing?

And I wanted it. All of it. Every second.

Sam reached across the center console at a stoplight and squeezed my knee. “You’re vibrating.”

“I know.”

“It’s a little scary.”

“I know.”

He laughed again. “You’re cute when you’re losing your mind.”

“I am not losing my mind.”

“You’re definitely losing your mind.”

I turned toward the window, smiling helplessly to myself. Maybe I was.

By the time we pulled into my parents’ driveway, I was already unbuckling.

“Scarlett—”

“I’ll wait,” Sam said quickly, reading me too easily. “Go.”

I was out of the car before he’d fully finished the word.

I barely remembered crossing the lawn. Barely remembered shoving the front door open.

I just knew I was moving fast, too full of excitement to slow down, too desperate to get the words out.

“I run into the house dying to tell my parents and brother the good news.”

I rounded the corner into the living room—

—and slammed straight into someone.

Hard.

A startled curse left both of us at the same time as the impact sent us stumbling backward. My foot caught on the edge of the rug, and suddenly I was falling, dragging whoever I’d hit down with me.

We crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Pain jolted up my elbow. My hair fell across my face. The air whooshed out of my lungs.

For a second I could only blink, stunned, trying to orient myself.

“I was in such a rush I slam into someone in the living room and we both fall to the ground.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

That voice.

My stomach dropped.

No.

No.

I pushed myself up on shaky hands, hair sliding out of my face—

—and froze.

“I push myself up to see who I landed on and my face is inches away from Ricky.”

Of course it was him.

Of course.

Ricky stared up at me with dark amused eyes, one corner of his mouth already pulling into a smirk like this was the best thing that had happened to him all day.

“Wow, Scarlett…” he drawled, not sounding remotely inconvenienced by the fact that I’d just body-slammed him into my parents’ hardwood floor. “Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more clumsy.”

Heat rushed to my face.

“Get off me,” he added lazily.

The spell broke.

I shoved myself upright so fast my knee slipped against the rug. “Why the hell are you here?”

Ricky sat up slower, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt with irritating calm. He looked perfectly at ease, like he belonged there. Like I was the one intruding.

“I came to see Liam, of course,” he said. “And your lovely parents invited me to stay for dinner.”

My jaw tightened.

He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “I was told you’d be out, so I accepted the invite.”

Of course he did.

Perfect timing. As always.

There had been a time, years ago, when Ricky being in our house had felt normal. Back when he and Liam were inseparable, back when they spent half their lives here playing video games too loud in the basement and raiding our fridge like they paid for the groceries.

Then somewhere along the way, Ricky had become unbearable.

Or maybe he’d always been unbearable, and I’d just been too young to notice.

Either way, now every time he was in the same room as me, it was like he took some private satisfaction in getting under my skin as efficiently as possible.

And the worst part?

He was good at it.

The front door opened behind me.

Sam.

He stepped inside, then took one look at Ricky on the floor, at me standing over him flushed and furious, and his expression shifted into resigned understanding.

He knew that face.

He knew exactly what it meant.

“Oh man…” Sam muttered, shutting the door behind him. “What happened now?”

Ricky looked up at him and laughed quietly. “Hi, Sam. Sorry for your unfortunate situation.”

I closed my eyes for one second.

Every. Single. Time.

Ever since Sam and I started dating, Ricky said it whenever he saw him. Sorry for your unfortunate situation. Like being with me was some kind of tragic burden Sam was bravely enduring.

The first time he’d said it, I’d thought maybe it was an off joke. By the fifth time, I’d realized no, this was a thing he enjoyed. A routine. A little knife he liked to twist just to watch me react.

Sam only sighed, exactly like someone who had heard it a hundred times before—because he had.

Then Ricky went on, voice full of fake innocence. “This klutz came running in here and knocked me on my ass.”

I stared at him. “You literally ran into me.”

“Interesting revision of events.”

“You—”

Sam stepped in before I could say something that would definitely start a fight in my parents’ living room. He reached for my hand without a word, grounding me instantly.

My anger didn’t vanish, but it stopped expanding.

His thumb brushed once over my knuckles.

“Do you want to go get your parents and brother to tell them?” he asked quietly.

The reminder landed like a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back to what had mattered two minutes ago.

The job.

My news.

My moment.

I glanced at Ricky, still sitting there looking entirely too entertained with himself.

“I don’t know that I want to tell them with Ricky here.”

Sam’s expression softened, but his hand tightened around mine just slightly. “He’s going to find out one way or another.”

He wasn’t wrong.

And I hated that he wasn’t wrong.

I took a breath through my nose, forcing myself to unclench. I was not going to let Ricky derail this. I was not giving him that kind of power today.

“You’re right,” I said quietly. Then louder: “You’re right, Sam. I don’t care if Ricky is here.”

Ricky’s brows lifted like he was pleased I’d decided to perform through adversity.

I ignored him.

I turned toward the hallway and raised my voice.

“Mom? Dad? Liam?”

A beat of silence.

Then: “What?” my brother shouted back from somewhere deeper in the house.

“I need you guys out here!”

“What did you break?” Liam called.

“Nothing!”

Ricky laughed under his breath.

I glared at the wall instead of at him.

Footsteps sounded almost immediately—first quick, then overlapping, then all at once as my family spilled into the living room.

My mom came first, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her face already full of concern that turned to confusion when she saw me standing there practically vibrating. My dad followed close behind, and Liam appeared last, looking halfway amused, halfway suspicious.

“What happened?” my mom asked.

“Are you okay?” my dad added.

Liam looked from me to Sam to Ricky still sitting on the floor and frowned. “Why is he on the ground?”

“Because your sister has the spatial awareness of a wrecking ball,” Ricky said.

“Shut up,” I snapped automatically.

Then I laughed, because I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and suddenly my eyes were burning again and my chest felt too tight and everything I wanted to say jammed up at once behind my teeth.

My mom took one look at my face and gasped. “Scarlett—what is it?”

And that was it. That was all it took.

“I got the job.”

Silence.

A split second of it.

Then my mom let out a shriek and rushed me.

Her arms wrapped around me so hard I stumbled back into Sam. “Oh, honey!”

My dad was right behind her, one hand going to the back of my head, the other around my shoulders, pulling me into that rare kind of hug that only happened when he was too proud to care about acting reserved.

Liam’s whole face changed. “Wait. You got it?”

I was laughing and crying at the same time now, which was humiliating but apparently unavoidable. “I got it.”

“The paralegal position?” my dad asked, like maybe there had been several major legal job offers floating around for me today.

“Yes!”

My mom pulled back only enough to cup my face in both hands. “At Nikodem?”

“Yes!”

“Oh my God,” she breathed, eyes shining. “Scarlett.”

Liam let out a low whistle and came forward next, grabbing me into a quick hug that smelled faintly like laundry detergent and whatever cologne he always used too much of. “That’s huge. Seriously. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“You actually did it.”

I shoved his shoulder weakly. “Obviously.”

My father smiled then, that specific one that always made something in my chest ache because it was so quiet and sincere. “We knew you could.”

And for a moment, everything felt exactly how it was supposed to.

Warm.

Bright.

Mine.

Questions flew from all sides.

“When do you start?”
“Did they send the paperwork yet?”
“What did they say?”
“Did you accept right away?”
“Do they do benefits immediately?”

I answered them all in a blur, laughing, talking too fast, barely even hearing my own voice over the rush in my ears.

And then—

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ricky.

Still by the couch now, standing instead of sitting, one hand in his pocket.

Smirking.

Not big. Not openly mocking.

Just enough.

That look.

Sharp. Knowing. Annoying.

It was like his expression said, There you are.

Like he’d been watching me the whole time.

Like my excitement amused him.

Or interested him.

Or both.

Something low in my stomach tightened.

Unsettling.

Familiar.

I dragged my gaze away.

I was not doing this. Not today.

“I just wanted to let you all know I was offered a paralegal position at Nikodem,” I said again, louder this time, as if repeating it might drown out the sensation of being watched.

My mom made another emotional noise and clutched my arm. “This calls for dessert.”

My dad laughed. “It’s six-thirty.”

“So?”

Liam grinned. “I support this.”

Sam was still beside me, smiling in that calm, steady way he did, and when I glanced at him he squeezed my hand again.

His expression said the same thing it always did when I got in my head too much.

Stay here.

Stay in this moment.

So I tried.

I really did.

But still, every few seconds, I could feel Ricky’s gaze.

Not always obvious. Not enough for anyone else to comment on. But there.

Present.

Like a low heat at the edge of a room.

Eventually my mom disappeared toward the kitchen in search of something celebratory, and my dad followed to help her. Liam started asking me practical questions about commute times and whether the office was downtown or farther out, and Sam answered a few on my behalf when I got distracted halfway through.

Normal conversation.

Normal happiness.

Exactly what I’d wanted.

Then Ricky spoke.

“So,” he said lightly, and I hated that my entire body seemed to register his voice before my mind did, “you’re going to be a paralegal.”

I turned to look at him fully for the first time since the announcement.

He leaned one shoulder against the doorway to the dining room, casual as anything. Dark hair a little messy. That same infuriating almost-smile still sitting on his mouth like he knew something no one else did.

“Yes,” I said.

“Interesting.”

My brows pulled together. “What’s interesting?”

He shrugged. “You.”

Liam groaned. “Oh my God.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”

Ricky’s gaze moved over my face with slow, infuriating calm. “Just didn’t picture you voluntarily choosing a career that involves paperwork, detail, patience, and not committing homicide when people are annoying.”

Sam went still beside me.

Liam muttered, “Dude.”

I felt heat rise instantly into my cheeks. “Are you serious?”

“What?” Ricky said, sounding almost bored. “I’m complimenting you.”

“In what universe?”

“The one where I’m surprised you can sit still long enough to do legal work and not stab the printer the first time it jams.”

Liam barked out a laugh before choking it back.

“Not helping,” I snapped at him.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You laughed.”

“It was a reflex.”

I looked back at Ricky. “You know what? Forget it.”

His gaze sharpened slightly, like that answer interested him more than if I’d exploded.

That only made me angrier.

“Actually, no. Don’t forget it,” I said. “Why do you always do that?”

Liam sighed. “Scarlett—”

“No, I mean it.” I stepped away from Sam, folding my arms over my chest. “Every single time I see you, you have something to say. Every time. Why?”

Ricky straightened a little from the doorway.

For a brief second, the room shifted. The air changed.

His expression didn’t, exactly. But something in his eyes did.

Like a lock turning.

“Scarlett,” Sam said quietly, warning in his tone.

But I was already there now, too annoyed to back off.

“You can never just let me have a moment,” I said. “There always has to be some comment, some stupid little jab—”

“I said I was surprised.”

“Oh, please.”

“And?” Ricky asked.

“And you’re an ass.”

That almost-smile deepened.

“There she is.”

The words hit me harder than they should have.

Like he’d been waiting for me to push back. Like this—this sharpness between us, this rhythm of bait and response—was something familiar to him. Something he enjoyed.

I hated how instinctive it felt.

I hated that he could drag it out of me so easily.

Before I could answer, my mom reappeared holding a pie server like a weapon.

“Why does it sound like there’s fighting in my living room?”

“Because there is,” Liam said.

“There’s not,” Sam and I said at the same time.

Ricky just looked at me.

My mom narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Scarlett.”

“I’m fine.”

She looked at Ricky next. “Ricky.”

“Mrs. Bennett.”

“Behave.”

His mouth twitched. “Always.”

I nearly laughed at the sheer audacity of that lie.

My mother disappeared again, unconvinced.

The room quieted for a second after that. Liam shoved his hands in his pockets and looked between us all like he was trying to calculate how close he was to needing to referee. Sam shifted closer to me again, not touching this time, just present.

But Ricky—

Ricky didn’t look away.

It was the strangest thing.

Usually his comments felt casual, thrown out just to irritate me and then forgotten. Usually he acted like nothing mattered enough to take seriously.

But right now, standing there in my parents’ living room while everyone else tried to move past the moment, he was watching me with a look that didn’t feel casual at all.

It made my stomach tighten all over again.

There was something in it I didn’t understand.

Something that didn’t fit.

I turned away first.

Liam started talking to Sam about something stupid and sports-related, and I let their voices wash over me without really listening. My heartbeat still hadn’t settled. My happiness from earlier was still there, still bright and real, but now it had something tangled through it. Something irritated and restless and annoyingly electric.

I hated that one look from him could do that.

I hated that after all this time, Ricky still knew exactly how to get under my skin.

A little later, when plates had been passed around and everyone drifted toward the dining room, I hung back for a moment under the excuse of checking my phone.

Really, I just needed a second to breathe.

The house was full of familiar sounds—my mom fussing in the kitchen, my dad opening and closing cabinets, Liam arguing with Sam about whether some team had been robbed last season.

Normal.

Safe.

I looked down at my phone and reread the email they’d sent after the call, just to reassure myself again that it was still there.

It was.

Offer letter attached.

My chest swelled all over again.

This was happening.

This was real.

“You’re actually happy.”

I looked up sharply.

Ricky stood in the doorway, half in shadow, hands in his pockets.

I lowered my phone. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Exactly what I said.”

I should have walked away.

I should have ignored him.

Instead I heard myself say, “You make it sound rare.”

His gaze held mine. “It is.”

That annoyed me more than if he’d insulted me again.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re usually tense,” he said. “Ready to bite someone’s head off.”

“Maybe because you’re usually in the room.”

A flicker of amusement passed over his face. “Maybe.”

I stared at him. “So you agree you’re the problem.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

He tilted his head. “You got the job, Scarlett. You should try enjoying that instead of trying to pick a fight with me.”

I let out a short laugh, genuinely disbelieving. “You started it.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“By saying I was surprised?”

“By existing in my house, actually.”

That got a real smile out of him.

Brief. Crooked. Gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.

And for one stupid second, it threw me.

Because it changed his whole face. Made him look younger. Less sharp. Less impossible.

Which was deeply inconvenient.

I recovered first. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

His expression flattened slightly. “Like what?”

“Like—” I cut myself off, suddenly very aware that I didn’t actually know how to explain it. “Never mind.”

“No.” His voice lowered just enough to make my pulse skip once. “Go ahead.”

I hated that.

I hated the way he said things sometimes, like the rest of the room had disappeared. Like his attention narrowed everything.

I tightened my grip on my phone. “Forget it.”

He took one step farther into the room.

Not close.

Not exactly.

But enough.

“Scarlett.”

My name sounded wrong in his mouth when he said it like that. Too calm. Too direct.

Too personal.

I swallowed. “What?”

His green eyes moved over my face, unreadable. “Congratulations.”

Just that.

Nothing mocking. Nothing sharp.

For a second I only stared.

It would have been easier if he’d smirked after saying it. Easier if he’d made it another joke. Easier if he’d stayed exactly the version of himself I’d gotten used to being angry at.

But he didn’t.

And somehow that unsettled me more.

“Thanks,” I said finally.

He nodded once.

Then, as if the moment had never happened, Liam shouted from the dining room, “If you two are plotting each other’s murders in there, do it after dinner.”

I blinked.

Ricky looked toward the sound, then back at me.

And there it was again—that almost-smile. That edge. That infuriating ease.

“See?” he said lightly. “Your brother knows you well.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Go to hell.”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the dining room like some smug, dark-haired asshole at the gates of politeness. “After you.”

I walked past him without another word.

But as I did, I could feel him watching me.

And the worst part?

I was suddenly too aware of it.

Too aware of him standing there, too aware of the brush of air as I moved by, too aware of the fact that my pulse had picked up again for reasons I absolutely refused to examine.

By the time I sat down at the table, I had my smile back in place. My parents were still glowing. Liam was still teasing me. Sam slid into the chair beside me, warm and familiar and easy.

This was my night.

My accomplishment.

My future.

And I wasn’t letting anything ruin that.

Not Ricky’s smirks.

Not his comments.

Not the strange look in his eyes when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

His smirk still knotted my stomach up, but I chose to ignore him and feel good about this.

Because this moment?

This was mine.

And I wasn’t letting him take it.

Chapter 2 – The Beginning of Everything

The road stretches endlessly in front of us, winding through trees and sunlight that flickers across the windshield.  I keep my eyes forward.

Because looking at Sam right now feels… harder than it should.  My parents were so happy for me they decided to take Liam and I to the lake this weekend to celebrate.  Unfortunately, Liam invited Ricky… but I got to bring Sam, so I wasn’t too worried.

Sam smiles.

“This was really nice of your parents to invite all of us to the lake. It will be a lot of fun.”

 “Yeah,” I say quietly.

But I don’t feel relaxed.  Not even close.  Sam glances over.

“So… what are the sleeping arrangements?”

My stomach tightens instantly.  I feel heat rush to my cheeks.
One of the main issues Sam and I have is that I’m not ready to sleep with him.

He made it clear he is okay with waiting… but he still brings it up.  I have never slept with anyone before.

Sam goes completely still beside me.  Too still.  He looks like he is being very careful not to make any reaction.

“Can I ask you something, Scarlett?”

 “…Yes.”

He studies me.

“Are you nervous because it is your first time… or because it’s with me?”

That question hits deeper than I expect.  Because I don’t have a clean answer.  I exhale slowly.

“Honestly, Sam… it’s both.”

I pause.

“Sex is a big deal to me. I want to make sure I know the person I’m sleeping with inside and out.”

My voice softens.

“I care for you deeply… but I’m just not ready.”

Sam nods immediately.  No hesitation.

“I understand, Scarlett. I only want to if you are ready. I wish there was something I could do to show you I’m the guy.”

I glance at him.  There’s no pressure in his voice.  Just… hope.

 “It just takes time, Sam,” I say gently.
“You are great, but I just need time.”

I hesitate, then add

“In case you haven’t noticed… men who are outside of my family have always been jerks to me.”

He frowns slightly.

“You mean Ricky?”

I look out the window again.

“Ricky was just the start.”

My voice tightens.

“He had the whole middle and high school convinced I was trash. All the boys were mean to me because of Ricky.”

Sam exhales slowly.

“Didn’t your brother know? Or try to help you?”

I shake my head.

“Liam was just happy I wasn’t dating.”

A beat passes.  Then Sam tries to shift the mood.

“Do you know how this crazy feud between you and Ricky even started?”

That question lands differently.  Heavier.

 “I don’t know for sure…” I say slowly.
“But I think it was because of something that happened when I was twelve…”

I glance at him.

“Do you want to hear the story?”

FLASHBACK

It was a warm day.  The kind that feels endless.  Easy.

Before everything got complicated.  I see them right away.  Ricky and Liam.  Laughing near the trees.  I hesitate.  Then walk up anyway.

“Hi Ricky… can I hang out with you and Liam?”

Ricky turns instantly.  Smiling.

“Of course, Scarlett. You can always play with us.”

Warmth spreads through me.  The way it always did when he looked at me like that.  Liam rolls his eyes.

“Scarlett, go away. We’re older than you and want to be left alone.”

Before I can react—

“Stop it, Liam. Scarlett’s cool,” Ricky says.

I look at him.

Surprised.  He didn’t have to defend me.  But he did.  Liam scoffs.

“Whatever, Ricky. You’re only saying that because you two have a huge crush on one another.”

Everything freezes.  My face burns.  Ricky looks at me… waiting.

I feel my cheeks blaze and Ricky just smiles. I want to be cool in front of them so I say

“We do not, Liam. Bobby asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday and I said yes. I would never have a crush on Ricky.”

The moment the words leave my mouth I regret them.  Ricky’s smile disappears.  Completely.  Liam shrugs.  But I don’t hear him anymore.  Because Ricky… Ricky looks hurt.  Really hurt.  I swear I see tears in his eyes before he turns and walks away.

I don’t go after him.  I can’t.  With tears in my eyes I walk home. I hated that I lied like that and hurt Ricky.

Because the truth was I had always liked him.  From the very beginning.

PRESENT DAY

 “So you think Ricky hates you now because of what happened when you were kids?” Sam asks.

 “Well no… but I think that was the start of it,” I say quietly.

Sam nods.

Then forces a lighter tone.

“Well, try to forget the past and let’s just have a great weekend.”

I nod.

“Agreed.”

But I don’t believe that.  Not really.  My eyes feel heavy and I fall asleep the rest of the car ride.

And as I drift off—

I can’t shake the feeling that this weekend is going to change everything.

Chapter 3 – The Lake

I don’t remember falling asleep.

One second I was watching the road blur past the window, sunlight flickering through trees, the low hum of the engine steady and warm—and the next, everything was quiet.

Safe.

Still.

I wake up when the car slows.

The shift is subtle at first—the gentle deceleration, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires—but it’s enough to pull me out of sleep.

For a second, I forget where I am.

Then I see it.

The lake.

Bright blue water stretching endlessly beneath the sun. Trees lining the shore. The familiar wooden dock. The cabin just beyond it, sitting quietly like it’s been waiting for us.

My parents’ lake house.

Unfortunately Liam invited Ricky.

I had tried not to let it ruin the mood.

“I get to bring you,” I told Sam, forcing a smile. “So I’m not too worried.”

At the time, I almost believed that.

Now, as we pull up and I see Ricky’s car already parked outside my stomach tightens.

We step out.

The air smells like lake water and warm wood.

Everything should feel perfect.

But it doesn’t.

“Hi Sam! Hi Scarlett!” my mom calls out immediately, walking toward us with a bright smile.

“Go drop off your stuff and come back out here, okay?”

“Okay, Mom.”

Sam grabs our bags and we head inside.

The cabin feels exactly the same as it always has.  Comfortable, familiar, safe… until we check the bedrooms.
My parents’ room, Liam’s room, and Ricky’s already claimed the last one.

Which leaves one.

I feel heat rush to my cheeks instantly.

Sam notices.

Of course he does.

 “Rather than create an awkward situation,” he says calmly, like it’s no big deal, “we can just sleep together.”

He pauses slightly.

“I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

I look at him.

Really look at him.

He means it.

There’s no pressure.

No expectation.

Just… consideration.

Relief settles into my chest.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Thank you, Sam.”

We drop our bags and head back outside.

 “All right guys!” my Mom calls out excitedly.
“Your dad and I rented sea doos for all of us! We’re going down to the cove… they’re shooting fireworks tonight!”

 “Nice, Mom!” Liam says. “I’ll go pack a cooler.”

I glance around and freeze.  Ricky is staring at me.  It’s not subtle.  It’s not casual.  It’s direct.

Intentional.

And the second our eyes meet he looks away.  Like nothing happened.  Like he wasn’t just watching me.  He turns and heads inside.  A chill runs through me.  I wonder if he is plotting some horrible way to humiliate me

“I’ll go pack a cooler for us, okay?” Sam says.

 “Thanks,” I reply. “I’m going to go change.”

He nods and walks inside.

Ricky appears again walking straight toward me.  Too close.  Too confident.  Too familiar.
“So… we’re just pretending that’s normal now?” he says casually, like we’re having a normal conversation.
“What are you talking about?”  I shoot back at Ricky.
“Sharing a room with your boyfriend at your parents’ lake house.” (he pauses, slight smirk) “Bold move.”
“You took the last bedroom” I’m practically spitting venom at his insinuations.
“Yeah.”  Ricky steps closer, voice quieter “I didn’t think you’d fold that fast though.”
“What the hell is your problem?”
Ricky tilts his head, studying me “You act like I’m the problem every time you make a bad decision.”
“What choice did I have?” I snarl at him.
“You always have a choice… you just don’t like what yours say about you.”
Ricky walks away. I almost punched him. I almost punched him.
Not because I couldn’t handle what he said but because part of me knew he meant it.  It’s like he goes out of his way to make my blood boil. I storm inside and change into my swimsuit.
I sit outside waiting for Sam.  When he walks out and sees my face he immediately asks, “What’s the matter?”
“Ricky… as always…”  I roll my eyes.
Sam is silent for a while like he is thinking hard….he stares at me for a minute.
“You know Scarlett… there is a very fine line between love and hate”
I look at Sam confused.
“What are you talking about?”
Just as Sam is about to speak Liam and Ricky come out. They both run down to the lake to get on the sea doos. Mom and Dad come out right after them.
“Come on you 2 let’s go” Mom says. 
We all get on and follow Mom and Dad. Liam and Ricky race one another and Sam trails me.Eventually we come to a cove and park. There are a lot of people around just having a good time, drinking, swimming.

As soon as Ricky walks on the beach most of the women there take notice. He has always been popular with women. If only they knew him….
“Here Scarlett I brought your favorite drinks.” Sam says. 
“Thanks” I smile at him. 
The music gets louder.
Someone hands me another drink.
The sun starts to dip and I realize I haven’t seen Sam in a while.  I decide to go look for him and notice he is nowhere near so I venture out a little further to the more deserted part of the beach.  I see someone behind me. Ricky…

My eyes narrow.
“Need a babysitter?” Ricky smirks.

“Were you following me?”

Ricky shrugs, casual“I saw you walk off alone like you’ve got zero self-preservation. So yeah… I followed.  You don’t pay attention to your surroundings.”
“Wow. Thank you, Ricky. I appreciate it.”

Ricky says flatly“Don’t.  I didn’t do it for you.”

There it is.

The jab.

Always.

 “You can’t resist, can you?” I snap. “You always have to make a snide remark to me.”

Ricky steps closer, voice lower“No.  I just don’t like watching you do stupid things.”

My jaw tightens.

 “Looking for my boyfriend who disappeared more than half an hour ago is stupid?,” I say sharply.

I cross my arms.

“I feel sorry for any girl you decide to date.”

His expression shifts.

Just slightly.

Ricky looks at me hard, no smiles “Yeah?”  He watches me, “Funny… I wouldn’t disappear on someone I actually cared about.”

The words hit harder than they should.

 “Are you saying Sam doesn’t truly care about me?”

Ricky shrugs like he doesn’t care.  Like he didn’t just drop something heavy between us.

At first… it doesn’t register.

It’s just movement.

A figure in the distance.

A guy.

Standing near the edge of the water.

There’s a girl with him.

Close.

Too close.

My eyes narrow slightly, trying to focus.

Something about him feels familiar.

The way he stands.
The way his shoulders move.

My stomach tightens.

No.
That’s not him.

It just looks like him.

It has to.

He leans down.

And kisses her.

Not quick.
Not accidental.

Slow.

Intentional.

My heart stutters.

Stops.

Then slams hard against my ribs.

“No…” I whisper under my breath.

It’s not him.

It can’t be.

I take a step forward.

Then another.

Like if I get closer, the image will change.
Like my brain just hasn’t caught up yet.

Like I’m wrong.

I have to be wrong.

Then he turns.

And I see his face.

Everything inside me drops.

It’s Sam.

Beside me, Ricky goes completely still.

I don’t even remember turning.

I don’t remember walking.

I just know suddenly I’m closer.

Close enough.

Close enough to see the way his hand is still on her waist.

Close enough to see the way her fingers are still curled into his shirt.

Close enough to know this is real.

“Sam?!”

My voice cracks.

Sharp. Loud. Wrong.

He jerks back instantly like he’s been burned.

His eyes snap to me.

Wide.

Panicked.

“Scarlett—”

The girl steps back.

Confused.

I can’t hear anything.

Not the water.

Not the people.

Not even my own breathing.

Just that one moment.

Repeating.

Him.

Kissing her.

 “This is not what it looks like—”

And something in me snaps.

My hand moves before I think.

Before I decide.

Before I even process.

The sound of it echoes.

Sharp.

Violent.

My palm stings.

I don’t even remember deciding to hit him.

His head jerks to the side.

Silence.

For one split second—
it looks like he might hit me back.

His body shifts.

His arm tenses.

And then—

Ricky grabs him.

Hard.

Fast.

Like he was already ready.

“You definitely don’t wanna do that,” Ricky says, voice low and dangerous.

Not joking.

Not mocking.

Dead serious.

My chest is heaving.

My hands are shaking.

I can’t even feel my fingers.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap.

My voice sounds like someone else’s.

“You are such a piece of shit.”

Sam looks desperate now.

Frantic.

Like he’s trying to grab something slipping away.

“Scarlett, please—just let me explain—”

“No.”

The word comes out instantly.

Cold.

Final.

Sharp enough to cut.

I take a step back.

Like I need distance just to breathe.

“Take the sea doo back,” I say.

My voice steadier now.

That’s worse.

That means I’m done.

“Go back to the house. Grab your shit.”

His face changes.

He knows.

“Scarlett—”

“Get. Out.”

Silence crashes down around us.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

“I’m serious,” I add quietly.

“You will never see me again.”
And this time… I mean it.

Something breaks in his expression.

He knows this isn’t a fight.

This isn’t something he can fix.

This is over.

For good.

He doesn’t argue again.

He doesn’t try.

He just turns.

Walks.

Gets on the sea doo.

And leaves.

The sound of the engine fades into the distance.

And everything feels…

wrong.

The lake.

The air.

The sunlight.

None of it feels the same anymore.

I don’t move.

I can’t.

I just stand there.

Staring at the water.

Trying to understand how everything changed so fast.

Ricky doesn’t say anything.

Not right away.

But I feel him there.

Next to me.

Still.

Watching.

And somehow…

that’s worse.

Because for the first time—

he didn’t start it.

He didn’t push.

He didn’t say anything to make this happen.

He just saw it.

Same as me.

And he stayed.
Like he always does when everything else falls apart.

Chapter 4 – The Shift

Surprisingly… Ricky doesn’t say anything.  He just pulls me into him.

And I break.

I sob… harder than I ever have.  Not quiet tears.  Not controlled.

Ugly, shaking, uncontrollable sobs that feel like they’re tearing something out of my chest.

And he just… holds me.  For a long time.  I don’t know how long.

Minutes.

Maybe an hour.

His hand moves slowly up and down my back.  Steady.  Grounding.

His other hand slides into my hair, fingers brushing gently through it like he’s trying to calm something wild.

He doesn’t rush me.

He doesn’t interrupt.

He doesn’t say a single word.

And somehow that makes it worse.

Because I realize…he’s not doing this to get a reaction.

He’s just… here.

When I finally look up at him, my vision blurred and my face soaked, he doesn’t pull away.

He wipes my tears with his thumb.  Carefully.  Like I might fall apart again if he’s too rough.

 “Why are you being nice to me?” I whisper.

Ricky’s jaw tightens slightly.

 “No one deserves that,” he says quietly.
“Especially you.”

A beat.  His eyes flicker over my face.

“I know what it feels like.”

I blink.

“You do?”

He lets out a short breath.  Not quite a laugh.  Not quite anything.

 “I guess you think I’m a complete monster, huh?”

I shake my head slowly.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, Ricky…”

My voice softens.

“But I don’t understand why you were so mean to me all those years.”

I swallow.

“That’s why this is… confusing.”

His gaze shifts.  For a second, just a second cracks.

Then it’s gone.

 “I don’t blame you,” he says quietly.

Silence settles between us.  Heavy.  But it’s not uncomfortable.  Different.  And suddenly I’m very aware of everything.

His arms around me.

The heat of him.

How close we are.

Too close.

My breath catches.  Ricky’s hands move to my face.  Slow.  Deliberate.

He tilts my chin up slightly.  My lips part on instinct.  I don’t even realize it’s happening.

This… This moment.

It feels like something is about to shift.  Something I won’t be able to undo.

And for a split second… I don’t want to stop it.

Then Ricky pulls away.  Fast.  Like he caught himself.  He turns, already walking back toward the beach.

 “Do you want to stay here,” he calls over his shoulder,
“or go back to the cabin?”

The shift is so abrupt it leaves me disoriented.

 “I… I want to go back,” I say quickly. “Please.”

He nods once.

 “I’ll take you.”

A beat.

“I don’t want you going alone.”

 “Okay… thanks, Ricky.”

 “You’re welcome.”

He climbs onto the sea doo… I follow.

When I wrap my arms around him he stiffens.  Just slightly.  But I feel it.

Then he starts the engine and we take off.

Fast.

The wind hits my face.  The water sprays around us.  And for the first time since everything happened, I laugh.

It escapes me.  Unexpected.  Real.
Ricky glances back at me and smiles.  Not mocking.  Not sharp.

Just… real.

And for a second everything feels surreal.  Fireworks explode above us.  Color lighting up the sky.  Water reflecting it beneath us.

And here I am holding onto the one person who has made my life hell for years…

Laughing.  Right after my boyfriend cheated on me.  And somehow this feels right.  That realization should scare me.  But it doesn’t.

We pull up to the dock.  Ricky steps off first, then reaches for me.  I take his hand but my balance slips.

I stumble forward… straight into him.

My hands press against his chest.  His arms instinctively catch me.  We both laugh.

And then… he looks down.  At my mouth.  The air shifts again.

 “You’ve always been a klutz,” he murmurs.

 “You’re such a jerk, Ricky,” I shoot back.

But there’s no heat in it this time.  Movement catches my eye.

Sam.

He’s carrying his bags.  Heading toward his car.  Then he sees me.  And starts walking over.

 “Scarlett,” he says. “Can I please talk to you? Just for a minute?”

 “No.”

My voice is immediate.  Cold.

 “I don’t want to talk to you. This is done.”

His expression hardens.  Something ugly slips through.

 “You know you’re going to end up alone, right?” he snaps.
“When you don’t ever put out for anyone, what do you think is going to happen?”

Something inside me snaps again.  I move before I think.  My foot connects hard.  Sam doubles over instantly.  Ricky laughs.  Sharp.  Unfiltered.

 “Get the fuck out of here,” I say, my voice shaking with anger.
“You piece of shit.”

Sam straightens slowly, breathing hard.  But he doesn’t argue.  He just walks away.  He doesn’t look back.

The sound of his car fades into the distance.  And just like that he’s gone.  Ricky and I walk inside.

I don’t even realize I’m crying again until I feel it.  Wet.  Hot.  Constant.  He notices.  Of course he does.

 “Are you hungry?” he asks.

I shake my head.  He doesn’t push it.  He just leads me to the bedroom.  Helps me lie down.  Then starts to leave.  Panic hits instantly.  I grab his hand.

 “Please stay.”

He pauses.

Then without a word he lays down behind me.  His arms wrap around me again.  And I break all over again.

 “Sam was right,” I sob.
“I’m going to end up alone.”

My voice cracks.

“If I had just—”

I can barely say it.

“If I had just slept with him…”

 “Stop.”

Ricky’s voice cuts through everything.  Sharp.

 “Don’t you dare say that.”

I freeze.  His arms tighten around me.

 “The right guy wouldn’t dream of cheating on you,” he says, low and certain.
“Whether you slept with him or not.”
Silence.
But this time it feels different.  Safer.
I cry for a while longer.  Until the exhaustion finally takes over.  And before I know it I fall asleep.  With Ricky still holding me.

4/24/26

Chapter 5 – The Night That Didn’t Make Sense

The next day I wake up and take a very long hot shower. I do feel better and I can’t believe how supportive Ricky was with me.

I get dressed and start walking into the kitchen when I overhear Ricky and Liam. I stop in my tracks to listen.

“Look Liam, I’m going to drive her home because she will feel less awkward not having to answer any questions with me. Ok? If she rides with your parents, there will be an awkward silence the entire way and she doesn’t need that right now.” Ricky argues.   

“I think you are taking care of her a little too much Ricky. It’s weird. You are going out of your way to spend time with her…”

“It is not like that at all Liam. I just know how she is feeling and I happened to be there when it happened. Things will go back to normal soon. Seriously I’m just trying to cut her some slack.”

“Fine whatever. This car ride is going to suck.” Liam whines.

I walk into the kitchen, and they both look up at me. I feel myself blushing and avoid eye contact with both of them. I grab a pop tart and while I’m walking back to the room, I ask Ricky, “What time are we going?”
“Whenever you’re ready”
I nod my head and eat the pop tart in my room. I pack up my stuff and sit outside waiting for Ricky. He walks out shortly after me and grabs my bag and my eyes go wide.

“Don’t get used to this. We will be back to normal after your done being sad.”  Ricky states.

He walks to his car and puts my bag in the trunk. Heat begins to run through my veins and then I have to remind myself this is the real Ricky, and I should not expect anything else.

I walk to the car and plop down in the seat with my arms crossed. Ricky puts on his sunglasses and starts to drive. He blasts the music and I stare at him from the corner of my eye.

He is so handsome, it’s ridiculous. I always thought he was ridiculously hot, but his personality was so awful I couldn’t ever admit to it.

It seems like he gets more attractive as he ages, which makes me angry as well. We don’t speak as he drives. I actually like the music he has on and it makes the car ride peaceful.

The next song that plays is  All I Want is You by U2….My eyes go wide and I look up at Ricky. His body goes rigid and glances at me from the side.

He looks away and concentrates very hard on the road. He clearly remembers but doesn’t want to talk about it….

**Flashback**

I run into the basement crying wanting to be anywhere but upstairs with those people….How can Ricky be so mean? He goes out of his way to make me feel awful..

I turn on the music to make myself feel better and I hear someone coming downstairs. All I Want Is You is playing and I see the devil himself come down.

“Leave me alone Ricky….you’ve done enough for one night.”

“You should be thanking me Scarlett! I did you a huge favor!”

“By stopping Henry from kissing me and telling everyone I have a gross disease?? Do you know what it’s like to have half the school hear something like that and laugh at you?”  I yell in Ricky’s face.

“Look you shouldn’t have been playing spin the bottle and Henry is not the type of guy that would be good for you. Who cares what these people think?”

“Easy for you to say Ricky. Everyone loves you and you’re with a different girl every weekend! “

“No one that matters” Ricky says in a low voice.  I almost didn’t hear what he said. 

Ricky walks up close to me and as much as I hate him right now I feel an odd attraction. I love the way he smells and the beauty of his eyes. I could get lost in them forever.

“Dance with me?”  Ricky whispers
I keep glaring at him but my body betrays me when his arms wrap around my waist. We start to sway together slowly. I rub my hands down his back and Ricky nuzzles into my neck.
“Rick” I whisper… “what is happening?”
Ricky cups my face in his hands and his breathing is shaky….

“I’m not sure Scarlett…”  Ricky’s voice is husky.
We inch our faces together and our lips meet. The kiss is soft and reserved but it lights up my whole body. I part my lips open to let him in and his tongue invades my mouth.

We kiss each other like we are starving and our kiss is the food. My hands trail Ricky’s stomach needing to feel his skin against mine…

“Scarlett…you are the best taste I’ve ever had…” 

We hear the basement door open and someone coming down the steps. Ricky pushes me away and Liam enters….

“Dude come on. Did you apologize? Let’s get back to the party…” Liam asks Ricky.

“Yeah.”  Ricky looks at me “We’re all good here right Scarlett?”
“Ummm.  Yeah” I stutter.
Liam runs back up the stairs and Ricky starts to follow. I grab Ricky’s hand. He stops and looks back at me.

“Ricky….aren’t we going to talk?”

“Look don’t read into it. I did you a favor. See? Your all better now.”  

Ricky turns and goes back upstairs. I gave up my first kiss for nothing…I hate him more than ever….

**Present Day**

Ricky says nothing and neither do I. I hate the memory and wish I could permanently delete it.

“So did you call in any favors to get the job at my family’s company?”

I’m instantly enraged “Absolutely not. I would never do that. I wanted to make it on my own.”

“Well, it’s going to be tough. I hope you make it.”

“I know I will. I hope you don’t make it any harder on my like you did in high school Ricky.”

“Highschool Scarlett?  Seriously? We were kids. Just playing games!”

“Terrible, humiliating, trauma filled games.”

Ricky shrugs his shoulders like it was all nothing. I hear a loud pop and before I can even question what it was the car is swerving.

He holds out one arm to hold me back and works to get the car over to the side of the road safely. We stop on the side of the road after a minute.

Ricky looks at me “Are you okay Scarlett?”
I’m shaky but say “yes all good”
Ricky gets out of the car and looks at the car. I open the door slowly and climb out.

“Well, we have a flat tire….I’ll make a call.” Ricky takes out his phone and turns round.

We sit and wait for about an hour for the tow truck. Apparently, there was some damage to the car as well so we are stranded for now.

The truck driver drives us to the closest town, but we are still far from home.

“The mechanic said the soonest he can get the car fixed by tomorrow morning at the earliest so we will need to get a room and stay the night.”

“Great…”
“Think of it as an adventure Scarlett. Your way too uptight about things. 2 rooms or 1?”
“1 room is cheaper…”
Ricky smiles at me “You want to get me alone in a motel room huh?”

“Barf….I just want to save money…Trust me it is not ideal.”

“Sure Scarlett…”
We get into the room and there is only 1 bed. Great….

“Ricky what the hell? One bed???? Ugh…I need to take a shower.”
Ricky laughs hysterically “Lucky us.  Honeymoon suite.”
I take a long hot shower. When I come back out it looks like Ricky has gotten us some food. His eyes go wide when he looks at me. I realize I am in a skimpy towel and soaking wet.

“Scarlett…I um bought us some dinner…I got you a burger and chicken strips. I know you like both but I wasn’t sure what you would be in the mood for.”

I sometimes forget how well Ricky knows me. He keeps staring at me like he cannot look away. There is a darkness in his eyes that makes me shiver. I go to grab my clothes and my towel slips a bit.

“Scarlett… your towel…”
Ricky’s voice sounds strained and I am tempted to let my towel drop a little more. My breast is almost completely exposed now, and I can see how it is affecting him. This power is a rush.

“Damnit Scarlett put your clothes on!”

I smile at him and go back in the bathroom to change. Ricky is turned on by me. I don’t even know how to feel about it. I choose not to think about it right now and go back out to eat.

We don’t say a word to one another about what just happened. We eat our dinner and then watch a movie. At some point I must have fallen asleep.

I dreamt Ricky covered me up, put a pillow under my head and kissed my forehead.

Chapter 6 – What We Didn’t Stop

I wake up to knocking on the door. I get up groggy and answer.

“Morning” Ricky is wayyyy too chipper for this early in the morning. 
“You got coffee!” At this moment, seeing the coffee, Ricky could be my best friend.
“Well I know you can’t function until you have your morning caffeine. The mechanic said the car will be ready in an hour, so you need to pack.”
“Ricky how can you know me so well and still hate me so much?”
He looks at me confused “I don’t hate you Scarlett… not at all”
I mostly meant that comment as a joke so it surprises me how serious he is….

“Can I ask you something Scarlett?”

“Sure” I say hesitantly.
“Sam said you wouldn’t sleep with him…why?”
Heat rushes to my face and I look down at the ground “Wow.  Well that really isn’t any of your business…”
“I know. You’re right… I was just curious.”  Ricky turns around and begins to pack.  For some unknown reason I feel like I want to open up to Ricky.
“I didn’t fully trust him, I think. Sex is a very big deal to me, and I want to make sure the person I choose knows me through and through. I don’t want to give it up to just anyone….”
Ricky’s eyes bulge and I just realized I spilled the fact that I’m still a virgin…. My cheeks blaze and I wish I could turn invisible.Surprisingly Ricky replies sweetly “I respect that….it is very rare for someone to take sex so seriously these days. Mostly because you are sacrificing so much pleasure.”
“I think of it more as sacrificing small, nothing pleasures, for the ultimate pleasure.”

Ricky’s eyes go dark while we are talking. He licks his lips and it draws my attention to his mouth. I memorize his lips and how perfect they are. His lips are pouty and thick, and I can just imagine what they could do on my body…I quickly snap my mind away from those thoughts. What is happening here?When Ricky and I are alone together this strange sexual chemistry rears it’s ugly head.

“You have some cream on your lip” Ricky’s voice is husky.

I wipe my mouth and Ricky laughs.  He walks up to me and starts to reach out…he hesitates before touching me like he is asking permission.

I look up at him giving him permission with my eyes. He take his thumb and wipes by lower lip and holds it.

Before I can even think my tongue darts out and Ricky gasps surprised. I close my mouth over his thumb and suck hard.

“Fuckk….” Ricky groans.
I pull back and his thumb comes out with a pop. The next thing I know Ricky’s hands are in my hair and he is kissing me deep. He didn’t even wait for me to part my lips open and invite him in.

I grab onto his shirt and pull him on top of me. I can feel how much he likes it when his hard on brushes against my thigh.

My legs instantly wrap around his waist and my robe has ridden up exposing my panties. His hands grab onto my ass and he rubs hick hard cock against my core. I cry out when he rubs against my clit.

“Scarlett, I can feel how wet you are through my pants. You are soaking.”
I blush in response, but he holds my face to look at him.
“It’s the hottest thing I have ever felt in my life Scar” Ricky’s eyes are burning through me.
I whimper at him wanting so much more….right as his hands ghost over my pussy his phone rings and I see his demeanor changes completely. 
He pulls himself off me and straightens out his clothes as he takes the call. It’s obviously the mechanic because Ricky says he will be right there and hangs up the phone.

Without looking at me, he says, “Car’s ready. Pack up and let’s get out of here.”
With that he leaves. I feel completely humiliated. I can’t even think about what just happened here.

*5/1/26* Update

Chapter 7 – It Meant Nothing

I pack up my things trying to figure out what exactly just happened here. I hate Ricky. How could my body possibly want him so badly? What a traitor. He’s hot for sure but he’s such a jerk to me.

I hear honking outside and I bet its jerkoff Ricky. I walk outside and sure enough there he is laying on the horn. Not even looking at me. So much for chivalry.

Ricky always had a reputation for being cold to women and lucky me I get to see it first-hand.
“Come on slow poke we are wasting time” He yells.

I throw my bag in the trunk and slam the car door shut.

“Watch it Scarlett! I just paid to fix this car.”
“Oh I’m soooo sorry about your precious car Ricky” I sneer at jerk.

Ricky sighs, pinches his nose, and closes his eyes “Look if this is about what just happened let’s make one thing clear. That was a huge mistake for both of us. You’re sad and rebounding because of Sam, and I am horny.  I need to get laid as soon as possible and you need to do whatever it is you need to do to stop being sad. I’m guessing what just happened between us is what you needed so… your welcome.”

I stare at Ricky open mouthed. Why am I so shocked that he would act like this? I’m mad at myself more than anything…Ricky is just being Ricky.

I feel tears coming from my eyes and I hate that my body is betraying me once again. I look out the window the rest of the car ride and don’t say a word.

A week later it’s Saturday night before I start work on Monday morning. My bestie Lisa convinces me to go out to a club tonight and relieve some stress by dancing.

“Come on Scarlett there are SOOO many hot guys here tonight. Let’s go dance!”  Lisa is practically vibrating with excitement and it makes me smile.  Her exuberating is contagious.
“Maybe in a little. I need to gets some drinks in me first to convince myself men can be a good time.”  I try very hard no to be a debbie downer tonight.   

Lisa dances away “Okay girl. I’m going back out there. I’ll be back!”

After sulking for a while and drinking away my sorrows I decide to go out and dance. I don’t care who is looking and I don’t care that I’m by myself. I close my eyes and sway to the music.

After a few minutes I feel arms sliding around my waist and smell a musk and woody mix. I like it…a lot. I keep my eyes closed while I sway with this guy. I can tell he likes it as well.

His hands roam all over my body and I feel his breath against my neck. He whispers to me “your body fits me like a glove” …

I push my ass closer to him, as close as I can get, and his hands wander over my thighs and dangerously close to my breasts. I don’t care tonight…I don’t care about Ricky, Sam, the new job …anything.

I want to kiss this man…the way he feels, the way we fit perfectly together. He must feel the same because his hand reaches up and pulls my face towards his and my jaw drops.

My stomach flips and I freeze “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Ricky.  Of all the places and all the people in this city, he is the man with his arms wrapped around me on this dance floor.  His eyes are wide in shock.  His hands frozen around me.  He recovers quickly.   It’s like a mask slips over his whole demeanor. His eyes seem to harden, his warm body turns cold, and he pushes away from me like I’m a hot stove that just burned him.   
“I had no idea it was you. Believe me, if I had this would not have happened.” His voice is like steel.  He turns to walk away and I grab his arm.   

“I’m so sick of your bullshit Ricky” His eyes slowly drop down to my hand on his arm and I drop it. 

“I shouldn’t be anywhere near you like this. Go away so I can take care of myself.” He turns away again and walks off. 

I walk off the dance floor fuming. I see Ricky go up to another girl and start swaying with her. For some reason it really pisses me off.
I sit down at the bar and take another 2 shots some guy buys me. At this point I’m pretty wasted. I’m about to take a third when Ricky comes up and swipes the drink out of my hand.

“What the fuck Ricky?”

“I saw him put something in your drink. I wasn’t sure at first… but he kept hovering.” His eyes are scanning the bar.

Alarm bells go off in my head.

“Who did it?” My heart is pounding.

“I don’t see him anymore. Come outside with me, let’s get you some air” Ricky wraps his arm around my waist and guides me to the door.  We go outside and the cool air feels good against my skin.

“Ricky, what if he put it in the drink I had before?”

“He didn’t. I was watching.”

I frown at him “You were dancing with some skank. Not watching me.”

Ricky just smiles.

“Trust me. I was watching you.”

I’m half drunk so it is making me feel brave…. I walk up to Ricky and hug him. He feels so warm, and his smell is intoxicating, and I hate myself for loving to be this close to him.

He is stiff at first and then melts into the hug. His hands rub up and down my back and I feel him kiss the top of my head.

I look up at him and smile….

“Thank you for always being here for me Ricky. Even when you hate me.”

Ricky’s hands cup my face.

“I told you…I don’t hate you. You annoy me more than anyone else in the world and are a constant pain in my ass… but I definitely don’t hate you.”  His thumb brushes over my bottom lip and I shiver.

“Well, I know you like my body…” I grin up at him.
“Of course I do. You are a beautiful woman. However, it does bother me when you speak.”

We both laugh and he runs his hand through my air. Ricky kisses my forehead, then my cheeks, then my chin and he hovers over my lips…. he is shaking…

I push my lips against his and it feels like I unleashed him. His tongue dances against my lips wanting me to open my mouth….

I open my mouth to deepen the kiss and Ricky moans into my mouth. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. I whimper and move my hips to feel his hardness…

He turns me around and pushes me up against the wall.

“Ricky…”  It turns into a moan…
“Fuck baby I can’t believe how hot it is when you moan my name like that.”

Ricky’s hands sneak up my waist and they find my breasts, it feels so good. I can feel the wetness in my panties…

“More Ricky please…”
“You like this baby? You want more?”  Ricky’s voice is husky against my ear. 

He pulls my top down and I gasp…He pulls my bra down and I am exposed to him.

“Fuck Scarlett your tits are perfect.”

Ricky blows on my nipples, and they immediately peak for him.. He licks one and my eyes roll back in my head… I moan loudly. My moans encourage him, and he tweaks my nipple while sucking on the other one.  My clit is pulsing with the need to be played with. His hard on rubs against my clit and I’m already close to cumming.

“Ricky oh my God…I’m about to….”

We hear a door open, and Ricky puts me down immediately. He pulls my top up and we fix ourselves. Looks like it was just a bunch of girls leaving.
Ricky drops his forehead against mine and shuts his eyes.  It’s as if he’s having an argument with himself and when he’s done he looks up at me with that cold, hard mask he always wears for me.  My heart breaks a little. 

“Come on Scarlett. We are both drunk. I’m calling an uber to take us home.”

Chapter 8 – She’s a Problem

Ricky’s POINT OF VIEW

Holy shit that was hot… I can’t get enough of her. I need to stay away from her. I can’t control myself when she’s around. We get into the back of the uber.  She slams the door shut and stares out the window. She’s pissed and I don’t blame her. I am so lucky those girls came out the back door when they did. God only knows what would have happened.

I make sure not to look at her because that can only lead to bad things. She’s drunk and lonely and I took advantage. I’m such a jerk.

We pull up to her house, and she goes inside without saying a word to me. Good. I know she’s safe tonight. Thank God I was there or who knows what that piece of shit would have done to her.

Once I get to my apartment I lay in my bed thinking about Scarlett and how good her body felt on mine. I love her vanilla scent that is just her… not perfume or lotion. Those mouth-watering perfect tits.

I need to get laid…. I’ve tried with other girls since the lake, but they just don’t do it for me. Not since I’ve tasted Scarlett’s lips again. No one else can compete.

The first time I kissed her in high school it took me years to push past and hook up with other girls…. that’s all it was though… hooking up.

She is my best friend’s sister and such a tease. I need to stay away no matter how attracted I am to her.

Now she will be working at my company. Great… She needs to always be on the opposite end of the building from me or this will get ugly.

I deal with it the only way I can, thinking about Scarlett and everything I want to do to her, then fall asleep.  I hear a knock on the door waking me up.

“Dude, open the door.”  Liam of course.

I get up and Liam is holding coffee. This is why he’s my best friend.

“Why would you lock your bedroom door?”

I don’t even remember doing it.

“Wasted last night?” Liam chuckles.

“I mean yes, but not blackout.”

“Did you hook up with anyone?”

I shrug my shoulders not wanting to lie to him but also definitely not telling him about his sister…I’m aggravated this morning.  I’m aggravated I can’t stop thinking about Lucy.

There is no reason for it. She’s beautiful…. she’s always been beautiful…but I’ve hooked up with a lot of beautiful girls. It’s more with her though….I don’t know what it is.

I trip over a shoe, and I throw it at the window. I’m glad it doesn’t break.

Liam looks shocked “Dude what is the problem?”

I rub my face in frustration “I don’t know. I guess I kind of know.  There is this girl I met…she drives me insane. “

Liam smiles and starts laughing.

“This is about a girl? I’ve never heard you talk about a girl unless you’re telling me you screwed her.”

I close my eyes and try counting to five.  “She’s super annoying to be honest… but she’s like a damn drug.”

“I’m honestly relieved Ricky…. for the longest time I thought you had the hots for my sister.”

I start choking on my coffee.

“Why would you think that?!”

“I don’t know… a lot of things. She had the biggest crush on you forever when we were kids. You treat her different than other girls, you always go out of your way to be mean to her…. I don’t know I guess I was reading it all wrong and I’m glad I was.  Where did you meet this girl?”

I hate lying to my best friend but… “At a bar”
“You slept with her?”
“No. She’s not very experienced to be honest. We fight a lot. We kissed and made out a little and I cannot get her out of my mind. I can’t believe I’m even talking about this.”  I squeeze my forehead with my index finger and thumb trying to will her out of my mind.

“Wow Ricky…she is really under your skin huh? “

“Yeah man… she really is”
“Why don’t you just tell her? Go after her?”

I shake my head at the thought of it.  “To be honest, she is way too good for me. Also, she’s not really that interested. I think she plays games sometimes. “

“Wow….I need to meet this girl.” Liam chuckles. 

I laugh silently to myself knowing Liam would kick my ass if he knew I was talking about his sister.

“I just need to forget her. For real. I’ll get over this.”  I silently promise myself to conquer this infatuation.

Liam doesn’t look convinced and I say the words knowing it’s a lie.


5.8.26

Chapter 9 – Chosen

I get ready for my first day at the new job buzzing with excitement. Nothing can touch my mood. Not Sam. Not Ricky. Nothing. I’m going to be a rockstar as a paralegal.

A soft knock sounds at my door, and when I open it, Mom is standing there with a bright smile.

“Hi, sweetie. Good luck today. I packed you a lunch.”

“Aww, thanks, Mom. I’m really excited.” I’m practically bouncing.

“You’re going to do fantastic. You’re so smart and such a hard worker. I couldn’t be more proud.”

“You’re the best… but I think you might be a little biased.”

“Oh, definitely,” she laughs. “But still true. Go knock ’em dead.”

I get to the office early and the hiring manager greets me right away.

“Hello, Scarlett. It’s so good to see you again.”

“Hi. I’m so excited to be here. Thank you so much again.”

“Great. Let me show you around.”

She walks me through the building, explaining each department and what they do. A small part of me stays on edge, half expecting to run into Ricky, but he’s an executive. I probably won’t see him much.

We stop in front of a smaller office with a nice view. My name is on the door.

Sarah lets me settle in and shows me how to access the training videos. Between paperwork and onboarding, my day fills up quickly.

Around one, I head to the kitchen for lunch.

“Hi, I’m Maxine. Another paralegal here. You’re Scarlett, right?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. I hope you’re ready to hit the ground running because we desperately need the help.”

“Perfect. I’m ready to work.”

Right then, Ricky walks in.

He doesn’t look at anyone, but the entire room shifts. Women sit up straighter. A few blush. Maxine included.

He pours himself coffee and walks right back out without acknowledging anyone.

“I’m sorry,” Maxine says with a laugh. “Most of us get distracted when Mr. Nikodem walks in. He’s so intimidating. Hot as hell, but a total jerk.”

I laugh because she’s not wrong.

She leans in, lowering her voice. “I’ve heard he’s a total player. Pretty private, but rumor is he hooks up with some of the single girls here. I wish I was one.”

Something about that makes my chest tighten. It shouldn’t matter. I already knew what he was like.

So why does it bother me?

After lunch, I head back to my office, focused on my training. At one point, I rush out to the restroom—and slam straight into someone.

“Seriously?”

I freeze.

Ricky’s irritation melts into surprise as his eyes land on me. Around us, the office goes silent. Everyone is staring.

“I am so, so sorry, Ric…Mr. Nikodem. I didn’t see you. I’ll have your shirt cleaned.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he walks away without another word.

The entire office is still staring.

Heat floods my face as I rush back into my office, shutting the door behind me. My breathing turns uneven.

Did I just lose my job on the first day?

The door swings open.

Ricky walks in like he owns the space and shuts it behind him.

“You really know how to make an impression.”

My face burns hotter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning. Please don’t fire me.”

“Fire you?” His tone is almost amused. “Dramatic much? It’s just a shirt.”

Then he starts unbuttoning it.

I stop breathing.

My eyes betray me instantly, locking onto his chest as he shrugs it off. Sculpted abs. Defined. Perfect.

He notices.

“See something you like?”  I hate that his smirk is so sexy.

I snap my gaze to my computer screen, but it doesn’t last. I glance back. Then fully stare.

I can’t help it.

He tosses the shirt onto my desk, and I feel an unexpected flicker of disappointment when he pulls on a clean one.

“Give it back when it’s clean.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

I exhale slowly, my chest tight.

What the hell is going on with us?

---

The next week passes smoothly. Ricky leaves town for work, and the constant tension eases.

I still haven’t met my direct manager, Jake, but I hear he travels a lot and keeps his distance from the paralegals.

Maxine, on the other hand, has become my work best friend. She’s been guiding me through everything.

“So what’s Jake like?” I ask one afternoon.

“He’s great. Super sweet. Gives us a lot of freedom. You’ll like him.” She grins. “Plus, he’s single. I’ve been trying to get him to notice me for a year.”

“Maybe this is your year.”

Her eyes light up. “There’s a huge Halloween party every year. The founders are obsessed with it. I’m thinking that’s when I make my move.”

“Then you definitely need something super sexy.”

Right then, an email pops up.

Jake wants to meet me.

“Can you show me where his office is?”

“Absolutely.”

We walk through a few hallways before reaching his door. I knock, and we step inside.

I immediately see why Maxine is interested.

Jake’s eyes move over me slowly, lingering just a little too long. He stands and walks over, offering his hand.

“Hi, Scarlett. I’m Jake. Sorry it took so long for us to meet.”

He glances at Maxine with a smile. “Thanks for bringing her. I’ll see you later.”

“No problem,” she says before leaving.

Once we’re alone, his focus shifts back to me.

“Your credentials are impressive. And from what I’ve seen, you’re already doing great. I’m really glad to have you on the team. Everything going okay?”

“Yes. Maxine’s been amazing with training me.”

“Good. I actually have a side project I was thinking of giving you. It’s for Mr. Nikodem. It would really showcase your skills.”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’d love to.”

“Great. Head to his office after this. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

My stomach tightens.

“And if you ever need anything,” he adds, handing me his number, “day or night.”

“Thank you.”

---

Walking toward Ricky’s office feels like heading into a lion’s den.

But I square my shoulders.

I’m a professional.

I knock on the large executive doors. A beautiful woman opens it.

“Hello. I’m Vivian. Mr. Nikodem’s assistant.”

“Hi. I’m Scarlett.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Her tone is polite, but her eyes aren’t.

She leaves immediately, closing the door behind her.

Ricky is already watching me, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m surprised you accepted the project. I figured you’d rather cut off your arm than work with me.”

“I’m a professional, Mr. Nikodem.”

“Apparently.” He gestures to a large box on his desk. “Go through these and tell me what’s wrong.”

I move to pick it up, but his hand wraps around my wrist.

Instant heat.

Electric.

We both feel it.

“You can work in here,” he says, voice lower now. “I’ll be back at four. There’s a private bathroom, and if you need anything, call Vivian. Lunch included.”

He still hasn’t let go.

Neither have I.

His eyes darken, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Do you offer special projects to all the paralegals?”

“No.” His voice drops. “You’re special.”

My breath catches.

For one dangerous second, I consider climbing over the desk and kissing him.

Then he releases me abruptly and heads for the door.

“I’ll be back at four.”

He doesn’t look at me as he leaves.

And just like that, I’m alone… trying to pretend my heart isn’t racing.

Chapter 10 – They Lost Control

I see several inconsistencies in this file. I have a running list to show Ricky. I start to notice how dark it is getting. I turn on the light on Ricky’s desk and check the time….6:30!

I had been so involved in this I lost track of time. My stomach starts to growl at me. I didn’t eat anything today. The office door swings open and in walks Ricky

“Sorry I’m late…I’m surprised you are still here.”

“If I had realized how late it was, I would have left at 4. Whether or not you were here.”

Ricky smirks at me. My stomach growls loudly…

“Feel like Chinese? I want to see what you have come up with. Can you stay?”

“Um sure”
Ricky makes a quick call ordering my favorite stuff from Chinese…. It’s unnerving how well we know one another. After he is done ordering he walks over to the desk.

“Here are the notes on what I can see so far.”  I hand them over to him.
Ricky sits on the desk next to me. He begins to look over my notes. While he reads, he makes notes out loud to me…. not really expecting me to say anything, I guess.

“Yes, I see what you mean here about the invoice…it’s possible but iffy. Did you check into her background? I would have looked for the invoice before saying that….”

“Ricky!”
He looks up at me with a shocked face. It’s almost like he can’t believe I’m here.

“Ricky look, I haven’t had time to finish all of this and put my notes together formally. I really didn’t want to show them to you until I was finished.”
“Well, what have you been doing all day? It shouldn’t take you this long.”

I am fuming. I have been working my ass off all day, and he is sitting here telling me this should have been done faster? I get up in his face, rip the paper out of his hands and there it is… the white-hot electricity between us. Ricky’s face is pure rage and…. desire? He grabs my wrists and holds them down at my side pushing our faces an inch apart.

“Ricky…” I whisper
Ricky’s mouth crashes onto mine. We kiss one another hungrily and I feel him hard against me…

He is still holding my wrists and I wrap my legs around him while sitting on the desk. When I do this, the pressure hits exactly where I need it and I can’t think straight.

I let out a moan and he pumps his hips to hit the good spot on me…

“Ricky oh my God…” I whimper.
“You feel so fucking good baby… You taste so sweet.”

I move my hips to match his rhythm, and we move together without thinking. I don’t recognize the sounds coming out of my mouth and the pleasure builds.

Ricky kisses his way down my neck to my breasts, and I want his hands on my skin.

“Ricky please…please. I need to feel your mouth on me.”In a flash Ricky pulls off my top and he massages my breasts… I want him to take off my bra. His hands trail up my stomach and slide under my bra. He teases my nipples and I cry out.

“Scar you are driving me insane” His voice is deep and husky.
He unclasps my bra, and I am exposed to him. Goosebumps break out on my skin.  His mouth goes directly to my nipple and the feel is overwhelming. We continue to dry hump with Ricky hitting that perfect spot.

 “Ricky I’m going to…”
“Cum for my baby… I want to taste you so badly.”

His words send me over the edge, and I arch my back while he tweaks my nipples. Ricky’s fingers make their way into the waistband of my skirt, and we hear a loud buzz. We both freeze.

Ricky rests his forehead against mine and lets out a shaky breath “That must be the Chinese.”
He adjusts himself and walks out the door.

I adjust myself as well and think about what is happening between us. Ricky comes back a few minutes later and sets out the Chinese food.

We start eating without talking and keep giving one another awkward glances. I finally speak up.

“What is going on between us Ricky?”
“We’re eating”
He starts to smile when he sees my face contorted in anger.

“Honestly Scarlett I don’t know. I can’t stay away from you. I know I should, but I can’t.”
His confession shocks me. I sit there staring at him and he keeps eating.

Ricky exhales and closes his eyes. Like he needs to concentrate hard to say this. “I just know I want to keep doing this. I want to be near you and kiss you.”

It’s as if it physically pains him to say these things.

“So, you mean dating?”
“I don’t know what I mean.” 
I am fuming. He wants me but hates that he wants me. He doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings. If I’m honest with myself, I’m not really sure how I’m feeling either. 
“Thanks for the Chinese.”  I’ve lost my appetite.  I stand up and walk towards the door. 
“What?  Where are you going?” Ricky looks shocked.
“Away”
I dart out of there before he can see the tears in my eyes.

5.15.26

Chapter 11 – Take Your Hands Off Her

I I get to work the next day and my stomach is in knots.

When I walk toward my office, I see Maxine talking to Jake. She’s laughing, touching him every chance she gets. He turns, notices me, and immediately makes a beeline in my direction.

“Scarlett! How’s it going?”

“Great!”

“Can we speak in your office for a minute?”

“Sure.”

We walk inside, and he closes the door behind him.

“Mr. Nikodem told me he is very impressed with your work so far. He wants you to continue working on the files for the week. He’s currently out of town but will be back on Monday to look them over.”

“Oh great. I will make this priority number one.”

“Great work, Scarlett. I can tell you impressed him.”

“Oh great. I’m happy to hear that. He doesn’t seem like he’s always easy to impress.”

“No, he definitely isn’t.” Jake studies me for a moment. “I have never seen him interested in any work from our paralegals, so you must have caught his eye… which is understandable.”

Did he just tell me he thinks I’m attractive?

“Look,” he continues, “there is a work party Friday night. Most of the employees come to socialize. I hope you can make it. It’s a good networking opportunity.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“Perfect. It starts at eight. I’ll send you the address.”

With that, he leaves my office.

I sit there for a moment, replaying the interaction, wondering if Jake was flirting with me. Then I push it aside and get to work. At least I know Ricky will be out of town until next week.

The rest of the week goes by smoothly. I feel more at ease with Ricky gone… but strangely, I miss him.

---

That night is the work party.

I ask Maxine if I can tag along with her, and she’s more than excited—mostly because it means more time with Jake.

I pick out a black sparkly dress that accentuates all my features. When I finish getting ready, Maxine walks into my room and stops cold.

“Damn, girl. You look smoking.”

“Thanks. Let’s go.”

We get to the bar and it looks like we’re a little late. A lot of people from the office are already there. Maxine spots Jake instantly and takes off toward him without hesitation.

I walk over to a couple of the other paralegals and start chatting with them about work.

“Scarlett, you made it!”

I turn to see Jake smiling at me.

“Hi, Jake.”

He leans in closer than necessary, his voice dropping. “You look stunning…”

My eyes widen slightly as I catch the smell of alcohol on his breath. I glance around, searching for Maxine, and see her walking toward us.

“Jake, what the hell?” she says, clearly annoyed. “You just took off mid-conversation.”

“Sorry, Maxine,” he replies quickly. “I saw Scarlett and wanted to make sure I said hello to everyone.”

“Oh.” Her tone shifts, but there’s tension underneath. “Well, Jake, I think Scarlett is fitting in here great, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

His eyes move over me again, slow and obvious this time. Maxine sees it. The look on her face turns sharp, almost furious.

“I’ll be back,” I say quickly. “I need to use the restroom.”

I slip away before things get worse.

---

Inside the bathroom, I take a breath, wash my hands, and try to reset. When I step back out—

Jake is standing there.

“Jake… what are you…”

He moves closer, forcing me back until my shoulders hit the wall.

“Scarlett, look,” he says, voice low. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. I think there’s a mutual attraction between us, and I would really like to take you out sometime.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” I say, trying to stay calm. “But I’m not interested in you like that.”

“Come on, Scarlett…” he presses. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

Jake leans in like he’s about to kiss me.

I shove him hard. “Cut it out, Jake.”

He stumbles back, but something in his face changes. The friendliness is gone. Before I can move, his hand is on me again, pushing me back against the wall.

“Come on, Scarlett,” he says, voice tight now. “Don’t act like you didn’t want this.”

My heart starts pounding. “Get off me.”

His grip tightens.

Then—

“Take your hands off her.”

The voice is quiet.

Jake freezes.

I don’t even have to look to know who it is.

“Mr. Nikodem,” Jake says quickly, stepping back like he just got caught doing something he can’t explain. “I’m sorry, Scarlett and I were just—”

“Don’t.”

Ricky doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t move fast.

He steps closer, slow, controlled, his eyes locked on Jake like he’s already decided how this ends.

“Scarlett and you are nothing,” he says flatly. “She told you no.”

Jake swallows. “I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant.”

Now he’s close enough that Jake has to look up at him.

“Get out.”

Jake hesitates.

It’s the worst possible choice he could make.

Ricky tilts his head slightly, like he’s almost amused.

“I’m not going to say it again.”

Jake backs off immediately, muttering another apology as he disappears down the hall.

The second he’s gone, the air shifts.

Heavy.

Too quiet.

Ricky doesn’t look at me right away.

He’s still staring at where Jake stood, jaw tight, like he’s holding something back.

Then his gaze drops to me.

And it’s worse.

Because now it’s not controlled.

Now it’s something else entirely.

Chapter 12 – I Can’t Give You Up

Once Jake takes off, Ricky steps closer to me and cradles my face in his hands.

“Are you okay?”

I nod, even though my heart is still racing. Strangely, I already feel calmer just having him here.

“Ricky… I have no idea why Jake did that. I never led him on or was even remotely interested.”

“I know, Scarlett,” he says quietly. “He’s been drinking, and he was probably attracted to you the moment he saw you. Not that that’s any excuse.”

Footsteps echo down the hall, and someone turns the corner. Ricky drops his hands from my face immediately and shifts his posture, making casual conversation for a moment. Then he leans in close, his voice low.

“Do you want to go back to the party?”

I shake my head.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I have a car outside waiting. Let’s go out the back.”

He takes my hand and leads me outside.

A limo is waiting.

Of course it is.

We climb into the back, the door shutting softly behind us.

“Did he do anything else to you?” Ricky asks.

“No… I don’t even know where it came from.”

My voice wavers, and I turn toward the window, blinking back tears. How am I supposed to work with Jake after this?

“You won’t have to work with him after this.”

I turn to him. “What?”

“I know that’s what you’re thinking about. He’ll be fired. That behavior is unacceptable. Especially coming from a manager.”

Relief floods through me. “Thanks, Ricky. Thank you for always being here for me… and for knowing me so well.”

He exhales, almost uncomfortable. “None of that was on purpose.”

I stare at him, frustration rising. “Why are you such a prick? I know you care about me, so why do you act like you hate it?”

“I don’t hate that I care about you,” he says, quieter now. “I’m just not used to being vulnerable in any way.”

His eyes drop to his phone, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Before I can stop myself, I move closer to him, like I’m being pulled in. I reach up and tilt his face back toward mine.

“Say it again.”

His eyes meet mine, dark and intense, something heated simmering just beneath the surface.  He whispers the words.

“Say what again?”

“That you care about me.”

“I care for you, Scarlett… a lot. More than anyone I have ever cared about.”

That’s all it takes.

Our lips crash together, and he pulls me onto his lap, my legs straddling him. I feel him hard beneath me, and a soft sound escapes my lips before I can stop it.

“Fuck, Scarlett… I can’t stay away anymore.”

“Then don’t.”

Ricky pulls my top down and my breasts are in his mouth….I lean my head back and whimper…
“I can feel how much you want me,” he murmurs against me.

Heat rushes through me, my cheeks flushing, but I don’t pull away.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he adds, his voice lower. “I like knowing you want me.  I love how wet you are for me. Let me feel your pussy baby…”

My voice is shaking  “Yes please Ricky”
Ricky’s hand trails up my thigh teasing the edge of my panties and my hips buck wanting more…

“You need this, don’t you?” he says, watching me closely.

“I need you, Ricky.”

Ricky rubs circles on my clit over my panties and my legs start to shake…he is sucking on my nipple and the feeling is almost too much.

“Don’t cum just yet,” he says, his voice almost teasing now, even as his control slips.

But it’s already too much.

Everything builds too fast, too intense, until I can’t hold it back anymore. I grip him, my body arching as the feeling takes over, and he pulls me closer, kissing me deeply, like he’s claiming every piece of me at once.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters against my lips.

Ricky’s fingers slip inside my panties and he puts a finger inside me…. The orgasm washes over me and Ricky kisses me probing my mouth deeply…

“You are so fucking tight baby. My finger feels numb.”

I laugh out loud and he laughs with me…he kisses my forehead softly “Scarlett… I need you. I can’t give you up.”

I smile, still catching my breath. “I can’t give you up either, Ricky.”

He studies me for a moment, then shifts slightly. “Do you want to go to dinner? I’m assuming you haven’t eaten.”

“Sure.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Pizza.”

He smiles. “Pizza, of course. Out? Or at my place?”

“Let’s go to your place.”

“Sounds good.”

---

The rest of the ride is a blur.

We’re wrapped up in each other, kissing like we’re in high school, like nothing else exists. We don’t even realize we’ve arrived until the driver knocks lightly on the window.

“Come on, Scarlett.”

Ricky takes my hand and leads me up to his apartment.

The second the door closes behind us, everything snaps back into place.

He has me against the wall in an instant, pinning my hands above my head. My breath catches, my voice barely there.

“Ricky… let me touch you.”

He releases my hands, and I don’t hesitate. My fingers move over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt, sliding lower as his breathing grows heavier.

“Scarlett…”

There’s a warning in his voice, but I don’t stop.

I plunge my hand into his underwear and grab his cock. It is hard as a rock and I feel myself getting wet. He feels so big in my hand…

“Scarlett… fuck…”

I kiss him and start to stroke him. I feel the wet of his pre cum on the tip of him. Ricky places his hands on the wall while I pump him faster…his hips buck matching my rhythm

“Scarlett Fuck…I’m gonna cum”
I kiss him hard and stroke harder and faster….I love watching his face as he cums on my hand.

“Wow, Scar…” he breathes, still catching up. “Just… wow.”

A loud knock on the door cuts through everything.

We both freeze.

“Ricky,” Liam’s voice calls from the other side.

 

**Updated 5/22/26**

Chapter 13 – I’ve Been Obsessed With You

Ricky and I freeze when we hear Liam pounding on the door.

“Come on, Ricky, let me in! The doorman said you’re here. I’ll just get my key.”

Ricky immediately leans close, his voice low.

“Go to my bedroom and shut the door. I’ll get him out of here.”

I scramble off the bed, my heart pounding, and run into his bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind me.

A moment later, I hear the front door open.

Liam’s voice fills the apartment, loud and unmistakable, but at first I can’t make out what they’re saying.

Curiosity gets the better of me.

I creep closer and press my ear against the door.

“Hey, man, what the hell?” Liam says. “I show up to meet you at your company party and they say you left with some chick.”

“Yeah,” Ricky replies evenly. “I was just giving someone a ride home.”

“Dude…” Liam laughs. “Remember that hot chick you hooked up with last summer at the lake?”

“Vaguely.”

“She’s here, man. In town. Is she the secret hottie you were telling me about?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Well, until you get your mystery love girl, why not hook up with some hotties?”

There’s a pause.

“I’m just not interested in it anymore.”

“Whoa. Okay, man.” Liam laughs again. “At least come with me to the bar.”

“Look, man, I can’t right now. I’m super busy with some stuff.”

Another pause.

Then Liam’s tone changes.

“Why is your bedroom door shut?”

“What do you mean?”

“You never shut your door.” Liam gasps dramatically. “You have mystery love girl in there, don’t you?”

“All right, man, get the hell out of here.”

“No problem. Have fun!”

The front door opens and closes.

I pull back from the door, my mind racing.

Mystery love girl?

Was Ricky talking to Liam about me?

The bedroom door opens, and Ricky walks in.

I’m sitting on the bed when he sees me, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are, Scarlett? Sitting on my bed like that?”

I smile despite myself. “You think I’m sexy?”

He gives me an incredulous look. “Why would I kiss you if I didn’t think that?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling uncertain.

“Everything with us is just so… strange. I mean, I think you hate me ninety-nine percent of the time.”

Ricky’s expression shifts.

“I’ve never hated you.” He pauses. “Resented, maybe.”

He walks toward me slowly and reaches out, stroking my hair.

“Why did you resent me?”

“Do you really want to get into this, Scarlett?”

“Yes. I want to know.”

He exhales heavily.

“Ugh. I’ve been into you since…” He shakes his head. “Since I met you. I thought you were into me too, then over and over you’d date some other guy. Every time you flirted with me, you gave me false hope. It really messed with my head growing up.”

I stare at him.

“Oh my God… wow. Ricky, I had no idea.”

“Oh, please.” His tone sharpens slightly. “You knew you were the most beautiful woman everywhere we went. You could have had anyone, and you dangled yourself in front of me.”

“Ricky, that is not at all how it was. I had feelings for you too. I didn’t think you liked me at all. You got meaner every year.”

“Only because it was driving me insane not to be able to kiss you… touch you… hold you.”

The confession hangs between us.

Then he leans in and kisses me softly.

My tongue slips out, teasing across his lips.

“I want you to touch me now, Ricky,” I whisper. “So badly.”

Something dark flashes in his eyes.

He kisses me harder, deeper, all restraint slipping away.

“Oh, fuck, baby…” he murmurs against my mouth. “I need to taste all of you.”

Heat rushes through me as he moves lower, his hands tracing over my skin, leaving goosebumps everywhere they touch.  Ricky pulls down my panties, and I’m totally exposed to him. My skin has goosebumps…

“Lay back, Scarlett,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “I can’t wait to taste you. I can’t believe I get to do this. I’ve only been obsessing about this forever.”

“Really?”

“Of course, beautiful.”

Ricky’s hands run up my stomach, under my bra, and teases my nipples. I moan loudly and arch my back…excited for his hands to be on my body.“Mmm, Scarlett… I love your sounds. I imagined them before, but they’re so much better in real life.”

He kisses me down my stomach above my pubic bone. I’m shaking with need….

“Ricky…” I breathe. “Please. I need you.”

He smiles at me, and the look alone nearly undoes me.

Ricky kisses me down my stomach to above my pubic bone. I’m shaking with need….

“Ricky….please…I need you” I cry out.

Ricky smiles at me just before he licks my pussy…

“Oh fuck…fuck…Ricky…”

He licks circles on my clit and I begin to shake with the building orgasm. His tongue penetrates me and I grab onto his hair while my hips buck.

“Ricky I’m going to…”

His tongue circles my clit again and he sticks a finger in me pushing me over the edge….I cry out and feel my toes curl…. the feeling overwhelms me and I can’t do anything but ride the orgasm.

The tension that has been building between us for years finally explodes, and I completely lose myself in him.

When it’s over, I’m trembling, completely spent.

Ricky pulls me into his arms, holding me against him.

Safe.

Warm.

Exactly where I’m supposed to be. I fall asleep there in his arms.

 

**Updated 5/29/26**

Chapter 14 – I Remember Everything

I wake up the next morning and instinctively reach out, trying to snuggle into Ricky.

He’s not there.

“Ricky?”

I open my eyes fully and see a note resting on his pillow.

Good morning, beautiful… I had to take care of some business. Don’t leave. Be back soon.

I sit up slowly, a small smile tugging at my lips, then get out of bed and walk into the kitchen.

The moment I step inside, I stop.

Chocolate chip pancakes sit on the table.

Next to them… yellow roses.

My chest tightens, my heart swelling so fast it almost hurts.

He remembered.

---

Flashback

“Time for my favorite meal!”

I’m already halfway through mixing the flour, adding chocolate chips, when I hear him.

“Whatcha making?”

I glance over and see Ricky leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling at me like he has all the time in the world.

Damn him for being so attractive.

“Only my favorite breakfast. I’m celebrating.”

“What’s your favorite breakfast?”

“Chocolate chip pancakes, of course.”

“Wow. I’m impressed. I don’t even know how to make regular pancakes.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Sure.”

He walks over, and I scoot aside so he can stand in front of the bowl.

“Okay, it’s super simple. Just read the box for the pancake mix ratio to water.”

He scoops the mix and water together and starts mixing.

The batter flies everywhere.

“Oh shit… I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, no harm done. Here, let me show you.”

I step closer, taking his wrists and guiding his hands so he doesn’t splatter it again.

“Scarlett… I’m doing it!”

He looks over at me, smiling, and suddenly I’m very aware of how close we are.

“Scarlett…”

The batter flies everywhere again.

He unplugs the mixer, laughing.

“Here, you’ve got batter all over you.”

He grabs a paper towel and wipes my face, his touch lingering just a second too long near my mouth.

“What’s next?”

“What do you mean?”

“Pancakes.”

“Oh… right. Chocolate chips. Here.”

I hand him the bag and tell him to put in as many as he wants. Then I walk over to the yellow roses my dad gave me and start putting them in a vase.

“Who gave you those?” he asks sharply.

Is Ricky… jealous?

“They’re from my dad. He was congratulating me. He knows my favorite flowers are yellow roses.”

“Oh. I see. What was he congratulating you on?”

“I’m valedictorian of my class.”

“Wow, Scarlett. Congratulations. That’s incredible.”

He pulls me into a hug, lifting me slightly off the ground, and I laugh. His hand slides into my hair as he cradles my face, and I lean into him without thinking.

“Dude, what the hell? Get off my sister!”

Ricky immediately lets go, pushing me away.

“I was just congratulating her on being valedictorian. Nothing funny. Like I’d ever be into you, little sister. Come on. She’s like my nerdy sister.”

Heat floods my face, anger hitting me instantly.

“Well, you two have fun. I’m going out with Derrick. Ricky, you can clean up the pancakes, right?”

“What? Who is Derrick?”

I walk out before he can see the tears building in my eyes.

---

End of Flashback

---

I sit at the table, slowly eating the pancakes.

They’re good.

Really good.

Did Ricky actually make these himself?

The front door opens, and my heart jumps.

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Hi.”

I stand up and walk over to him, pressing a kiss to his lips. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tighter than usual.

“Did you make these yourself?”

“Of course,” he says. “You taught me how… remember?”

“I remember, I just wasn’t sure you did.”

“I remember everything between us, Scarlett.”

“So do I.”

He studies me for a moment.

“I want to take you somewhere today.”

“Okay, but first I need to go home and take a shower.”

“Take one here.”

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“I’m good with you being naked.”

“I bet you are.”

“Just borrow some of mine. Where we’re going, you need to dress comfortably.”

“Okie dokie, mystery man.”

---

I pick out some of his clothes, deciding to skip underwear entirely.

Something about teasing him all day feels… right.

I take off my clothes slowly, then hesitate.

Should I invite him?

Before I can overthink it, I open the bathroom door.

Ricky looks up.

His jaw drops.

“Wanna join me?”

He doesn’t hesitate.

He strips out of his clothes and walks over quickly, and I can’t help but laugh.

He lifts me easily and carries me into the shower.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

I blush, smiling up at him, and then it hits me—

I’m seeing him like this for the first time.

My eyes drift downward, widening slightly.

“Wow.”

He smiles, amused, and kisses me.

I sink into him and the moment my breasts rub against his chest my nipples get hard. Ricky notices and gently massages them which makes me moan in his mouth.

“Let me wash your body,” he says softly.

I nod.

I nod and he soaps up his hands. He washes the front of my body and I find it unbearably erotic. He then turns me around and holds me hard against him. I feel how excited he is against my back.

“Scarlett… you have no idea what you do to me.”

I turn my head, kissing him again, deeper this time. My hand moves instinctively and I begin to stroke him.  He moans in my mouth. His hand tweaks my nipples and I grind against Ricky.

“Fuck, baby…”

Ricky rubs his hard length against my pussy back and forth stimulating my clit. I hold onto the shower wall as I feel my orgasm building. We grind faster and faster and he stops at my entrance. I take a sharp inhale. I want this so badly.“Scarlett…” His voice is rough now. “I’m about to push myself in… I know this is your first time. Do you want to stop here?”

My breath catches.

“Either way,” he continues, “I’m not stopping this… but do you want to do this here? Now?”

His words send heat straight through me.

I press back against him slightly.

Just enough.

His tip begins to stretch my entrance and we are both moaning…. the loud knock on the bathroom door pulls us away from one another.

“Dude, you done with your shower? I need to talk to you.”

Liam.

 

**6/5/26**

Chapter 15 – We Can Discuss Business Monday

I put my ear up to the door of the bathroom to hear what Ricky tells Liam…

“Seriously dude? Come on man I was in the shower!”

“Oh sorry bro”
“Ok I have someone here you need to go…and seriously stop just walking into the apartment.” Ricky huffs.

“Okay man I said I was sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hear Liam leave and Ricky comes back in the bathroom.

“Sorry Scar…”
“It’s fine. We needed to stop anyway. But I do want to try something.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
I kiss Ricky slowly savoring every kiss. I kiss him down his face, his neck, his stomach and get on my knees.

“Baby you don’t have to…”
“Ricky I want to so badly, but I have never done this before. Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

Ricky smiles wide at me but looking up at him like this I’ve never felt more powerful. He cups my face in his hands.

“Are you sure you want to do this baby? You don’t have to….”

I kiss the tip of him and he takes in a sharp breath throwing his head back…

“Fuck Scarlett…”
I kiss his tip and slowly wrap my lips around his girth. His dick twitches in my mouth and I can feel my body responding to this. I slowly push my mouth down all his length as far as I can go….

“Baby this feels soooo good…”
I swirl my tongue around him and start quickening my pace. I hear Ricky’s breath getting faster and pump my mouth following his breaths…

His hands grip my head lightly and I look up at him through my eyelashes.

“You are so beautiful baby…I want to get my tongue inside you.”

Ricky lays on the ground and pulls my hips over his face so I am straddling him. His mouth goes to work on me right away and my legs begin to shake. I bend over and take Ricky in my mouth again.

I feel Ricky push a finger inside me and I moan with Ricky in my mouth. My legs are trembling so hard now I can barely focus…

“Scarlett, you taste so good. I’ve wanted you for so so long.”

Ricky pushes a second finger in me and I cum immediately with him in my mouth. I hear Ricky moan and his body goes still. He spills in my mouth and I swallow him greedily.

“Wow, Scarlett…” he says after a moment. “Just… wow.”

We stay like that for a while, catching our breath, until he finally lifts me up and carries me out of the shower.

He dries me off gently, carefully, like I’m something fragile, then hands me one of his shirts. It all feels surreal.

We can’t stop touching each other. Kissing. Smiling like idiots.

Have I always felt this way about him and just buried it?

I think I have.

Everything feels right.

Too right.

His phone buzzes.

The change is instant.

Ricky looks down at the screen, and his entire body stiffens. The smile disappears.

“I’ll be back,” he says, his tone suddenly cold. “I have to take this.”

He walks out of the room without another word.

I sit there, confused, watching the door close behind him.

Who the hell could affect him like that?

I try to listen, but I can barely hear anything at first.

Then—

“Assaulting an employee in the women’s bathroom cannot be excused.”

My heart starts pounding.

Is he talking about Jake?

“I’m in charge. This is supposed to be my call.”

Silence.

Then finally—

“Fine. I’ll be there in an hour.”

The call ends.

Ricky walks back in.

“Scar, I have to go into the office and handle some things. I’ll call you when I’m done, okay?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, baby. Don’t worry.”

He kisses me gently, gives me a small smile, and leaves.

But something feels off.

Really off.

---

The rest of the day drags on, and I don’t hear anything from him.

The uneasy feeling in my stomach won’t go away.

Before I go to sleep, I text him, asking if he’s okay.

I fall asleep almost immediately.

---

The next morning, I grab my phone first thing.

There’s a message from Ricky.

All is fine. See you at the office Monday.

My stomach drops.

What the hell is going on?

I text back:

Don’t you think we should talk?

I watch as the typing bubble appears… then disappears… then comes back again.

Finally—

I don’t want to encourage employees to work weekend. We can discuss business Monday.

Business?

I stare at the screen, completely stunned.

What the hell is going on?

---

Monday morning, I walk into the office ready to demand answers.

The moment I sit down, I see an email.

From Henry Nikodem.

My stomach drops.

He’s scheduled a one-on-one meeting with me.

A cold wave of dread settles over me. I’ve only seen Ricky’s dad a handful of times, and Liam always said he was an arrogant bastard. Ricky practically lived at our house growing up just to get away from him.

Something feels off in the office.

Everyone knows about Jake.

Maxine walks past my office, and I hurry out after her.

“Maxine,” I call softly.

She turns, but her expression isn’t warm.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Just fine, Scarlett. What do you want?”

“You seem mad. Did I do something?”

She lets out a sharp breath. “Apart from disappearing at the party and getting Jake fired? No.”

“Maxine, I’m sorry I disappeared, but…” I hesitate. “Can you come into my office? I need to tell you something.”

She studies me for a second, then nods.

We walk inside, and I shut the door behind us.

I tell her everything. The party. Jake. Ricky.

All of it.

“Oh my gosh, Scarlett, I’m so sorry,” she says immediately. “Jake was telling everyone this whole story about how you and Ricky were a couple and you wanted his job, so you got him fired.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, looking genuinely upset.

“I got an email this morning from Henry Nikodem,” I say quietly. “I might be fired next.”

My eyes start to sting.

“I’ve heard nothing from Ricky… and now I have to meet with his dad.”

“It’ll be fine,” Maxine says, reaching for my hand. “I’m sure he just wants to check on you since it was a workplace incident.”

I nod, even though I don’t believe it.

Then I turn back to my desk, trying to prepare for a meeting I know nothing about.

The looks I’ve been getting around the office all morning aren’t helping. Jake must have spent the weekend spreading lies, because every time I pass someone, I catch whispers and sideways glances.

 Great. Just great.

 I stop in front of Henry Nikodem’s secretary. She’s perfectly put together. Perfect hair. Perfect makeup. Perfect posture. Perfectly intimidating.

She only looks up when I’m standing directly in front of her. Her eyes sweep over me like she’s assessing whether I’m worth her time.

 “Name.”

The single word is cool and clipped.

“Scarlett. I have an appointment with Mr. Nikodem.”

She doesn’t miss a beat.

“Take a seat. I’ll call you shortly.”

Then she immediately returns to typing. Dismissed. I sit down and do my best not to fidget. Where is Ricky? Why is he being so cold? Should I text him again?

“You can go in now.” Her voice is just as cold as before.

 I stand, smooth down my skirt, and walk toward the door. The moment I step inside, I understand where Ricky gets it from. Henry Nikodem’s office is practically a luxury suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city skyline. A sitting area occupies one corner. There’s a private bathroom with a shower. What looks suspiciously like a bedroom sits beyond that. It doesn’t surprise me. Ricky always said his father practically lived at work. The man himself is sitting behind his desk. Big. Not overweight. Not bulky. Just… big.

 Like his entire presence takes up the room without him even trying.

“Take a seat.”

The command sounds more like an order. Apparently, his secretary learned her people skills from him.

 “I’m fine standing.”

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. For the first time, he actually looks up. Something flashes across his face.

Surprise.

Maybe people don’t say no to him very often.

“Suit yourself.” His expression hardens. “I wanted to speak with you regarding the unfortunate incident involving your former supervisor at the company party.”

Former supervisor. Jake is definitely gone.

 “On behalf of myself and the company, I want to make it clear that we do not tolerate behavior like that. Although nothing can be proven conclusively, we would like to offer you Jake’s position, along with a generous signing bonus.”

He slides a folder across the desk.

“Here is the paperwork.”

I stare at him.

“You’re offering me Jake’s position?”

“Incredible, isn’t it?”

“I’ve only worked here a few months.” I shake my head. “How do you even know I’m capable?”

“I reviewed your work before considering this offer.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “You are capable.”

My stomach twists.

“Would I be reporting to Ricky?”

 The temperature in the room seems to drop.

 “Ricky is taking a temporary position in Chicago for the foreseeable future.”

His expression becomes unreadable.

“You will be reporting directly to me.”

For a second I just stare at him. Chicago? Ricky is in Chicago?

“You don’t need to concern yourself with my son.”

The sharpness in his voice catches me off guard. This man is unbelievable. He’s essentially handing me a promotion while simultaneously making it clear that taking legal action would be pointless.

And Ricky is gone. Just… gone. Without saying a word.

“I need time to think about it.”

For the first time, Henry Nikodem looks genuinely surprised. Only for a second. Then the expression disappears.

“Scarlett,” he says slowly, “this is a tremendous opportunity. What exactly do you need to think about?”

“To be frank, sir?”

His jaw tightens.

“This feels like hush money.”

Silence.

“I know I’m capable of doing the job,” I continue.

“But I wanted to earn it. Not receive it because something bad happened to me.”

 His eyes darken.

“Perhaps you aren’t as capable as I thought.”

 If looks could kill, I’d already be dead. I meet his stare.

“Maybe we both need time to think about it then.”

The silence stretches between us. Then I turn and walk out. ________________________________________

 By the time I make it back to my office, my hands are shaking. An email pops up immediately. From Henry Nikodem.

Scarlett, Please review the details of the offer below. The deadline for acceptance is Thursday at 8:00 a.m.

 I scroll down. Then scroll back up. The salary. The bonus. The benefits. The numbers are absurd. My phone is already in my hand. I text Ricky: I just met with your dad. You’re in Chicago? I need to speak with you ASAP.

His response comes almost instantly. “Yes. I’m in Chicago. I don’t see how that is any of your concern.”

 I read the message twice. Then a third time. Surely I’m misunderstanding.

 “What do you mean it’s not my concern? Ricky what the hell is going on? Please call me.” The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again. Then my phone rings.

“Ricky?”

 The second I hear his voice, something inside me loosens.

“Ricky, you just moved to Chicago without saying anything? What is going on?”

Silence. Then—

 “Scarlett, again, I don’t see why I would need to inform you of my whereabouts.”

His voice is ice. Not cool. Not distant. Ice. A wall slams down between us.

“Ricky,” I whisper. “I thought we had something. You told me you had feelings for me.” Silence. Long enough to hurt. Then—

 “Scarlett, you’re a beautiful girl, okay?”

The words feel rehearsed. Like he’s reading them.

“I’ve been physically attracted to you for years. That’s true.”

Every word feels worse than the last.

“But this could never be an actual relationship.”

I stop breathing.

“Now that I’m in Chicago, our personal relationship has come to an end.”

The room spins.

“I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

 Tears hit my cheeks before I realize I’m crying.

“No.” My voice breaks. “No. That’s not true.”

“Scarlett—”

“No.” I wipe furiously at my face. “I know you care about me. I know you do.” Silence. “Did you even tell Liam you left? Ricky, this isn’t you.” Another long pause.

Then—

“Scarlett… I have to go.”

His voice is softer now. Somehow that’s worse.

 “Again, I’m sorry if this has upset you.”

Upset me?

“Good luck with everything.” The line goes dead.

 I stare at my phone. At the empty screen. At the call that’s already ended. Then I can’t breathe.

I push away from my desk so fast my chair nearly tips over. The walls feel too close. The office feels too small. I run.

Out of my office.

Out of the building. Out into the cold air.

Because if I stop moving, I might completely fall apart.

“This could never be an actual relationship.”

The words didn’t make sense. Not after everything. Not after the pancakes. Not after the roses. Not after him telling me he couldn’t give me up. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Maybe I had imagined all of it. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe Ricky had been right all along. The thought made my stomach twist. My phone sat in the cupholder. Silent. No texts. No calls. Nothing. I picked it up anyway.

    Still nothing. I hated myself for checking. I hated myself for caring. Most of all, I hated that he could destroy me this completely. Eventually I started the car and drove home.  

The next morning, I walked into the office feeling like a completely different person. The gossip hadn’t died down. If anything, it seemed worse.

     People stopped talking when I walked by. Eyes followed me. Whispers started the second I passed. Jake had definitely been busy before he left. Wonderful. I dropped my purse in my office chair and immediately opened Henry’s offer.

     The salary stared back at me. The bonus was ridiculous. The position was everything I’d worked toward. I should have been excited.

     Instead, I felt numb. A soft knock sounded at my door. Maxine peeked her head inside. “Morning.”

 “Morning.”

 She frowned immediately. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks.”

 “You know what I mean.”

I did. I probably looked exactly how I felt. Exhausted, heartbroken, humiliated.

     Maxine sat across from me. “Have you decided?”

I looked down at the offer again. Then I signed it.

“There.”

Her eyebrows shot up.  “You accepted?”

“I accepted.”

“Good.” I laughed bitterly. “Nothing about this feels good.”

Maxine didn’t argue. She just reached across the desk and squeezed my hand. “I know.”

     Around lunch, I found Liam sitting at our favorite coffee shop. The second he saw me, he smiled. The smile vanished almost immediately.

“Damn, Scar. That bad? You look like somebody died.”

Close enough. I slid into the seat across from him.

“Liam, did Ricky tell you he moved to Chicago?”

His entire face changed. “What?  He moved?  You’re kidding…”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“That asshole.”

“Liam.”

“What? He didn’t tell me.  I’m his best friend!”

Now it was my turn to stare.

“He didn’t?”

“No.” Liam leaned back in his chair. “Last thing he told me was he had some work stuff going on.”

The knot in my stomach tightened.

“What kind of work stuff?”

“I don’t know. Dad apparently needed someone to handle something at the Chicago office.” “Someone?”

“Yeah.” I watched him carefully. “What does that mean?”

Liam shrugged. “Honestly? No clue. Ricky just said somebody needed help and Dad asked him to take care of it.  I bet you’re happy he’s finally gone”

My heart skipped. Somebody needed help. Someone. Not something. Someone. The timing was too perfect. Jake. The promotion. Henry. Chicago. Ricky’s sudden disappearance. My stomach twisted.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

I looked down at my coffee. Nothing. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was reading into things. But a small voice inside me whispered the same thing over and over. *He left because of you.*

Liam frowned. “What’s going on?”

I forced a smile. “Nothing.”

“Scarlett.”

“It’s nothing.”

He clearly didn’t believe me. Neither did I.

     Working for Henry Nikodem was exactly as miserable as I expected. Possibly worse. By three o’clock he had already reviewed four reports. Every single one came back covered in notes. Not suggestions. Corrections. At four thirty he appeared in my doorway. I immediately sat up straighter.

“Mr. Nikodem.”

“The Carson file.”

I handed it to him. He flipped through several pages. The silence stretched. Finally, he closed it.

“Acceptable.”

That was it. No good job. No praise. No congratulations. Just acceptable. Then he walked away. I stared after him. How had Ricky survived being raised by this man?

     The days blurred together. Work. Home. Sleep. Repeat. Every morning I checked my phone. Every night I checked my phone. Every lunch break. Every red light. Every commercial. Nothing. No texts. No calls. No Ricky. A week passed. Then another. The hurt settled into something heavier. Not sharp anymore. Just constant. Like carrying a backpack full of bricks everywhere I went. 

     Friday night found me sitting on Maxine’s couch. A glass of wine sat untouched in my hand. Maxine was watching me with growing concern.

“You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Staring at your phone.”

I set it down. She wasn’t wrong. “I wasn’t.”

“You absolutely were.” I sighed. Maybe I had been.

“Scarlett.”

“What?”

“You need to move on.”

 The words hit harder than they should have. I immediately felt defensive.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Because I couldn’t explain it. Not really. How was I supposed to explain Ricky? The guy who spent years pushing me away. The guy who showed up every time I needed him. The guy who kissed me like I was oxygen. The guy who vanished.

“See?” Maxine said softly.

“I can’t.”

“I know.” I looked away. My eyes burned. “He cared about me.”

“Maybe.”

“No. I know he did.”

Maxine hesitated. Then sighed. “A man who wants to be with you doesn’t disappear.”

The words landed like a punch to the stomach. Because part of me knew she was right. I hated that she was right. I hated that I couldn’t argue.

     Monday night I was still at the office long after everyone else had gone home. The city lights glowed beyond the windows. The building was silent. My desk lamp cast a small pool of light across the paperwork.

Across from me, Henry’s office was still illuminated. Of course it was. The man probably lived here. I finished another report and leaned back in my chair. The exhaustion was overwhelming. Without thinking, I reached for my phone. No messages. I opened Ricky’s conversation anyway. Weeks of messages stared back at me. Pictures. Jokes. Arguments. Memories. My throat tightened. I scrolled up. Then down. Then back up again. Like somehow the outcome would change. Like somehow he’d suddenly text me. I opened a new message. My fingers hovered over the screen. *I miss you.* The words sat there. Waiting.

     For a long moment I stared at them. Then I closed the conversation. Unsaved. Unsent. The screen went dark. And for the first time since Ricky left, I wondered if maybe everyone was right. Maybe I needed to move on. The problem was, I had absolutely no idea how.

Nothing ever came.  Eventually, I stopped checking my phone every five minutes.  Then every hour.  Then every day.

The hurt never really went away, but it dulled enough that I could function again.  Work helped.  Working for Henry Nikodem was unlike working for anyone else I had ever met.

He never complimented anyone.  He never smiled.  He never asked about your weekend or how your family was doing.  He simply expected perfection.

Oddly enough, I found comfort in that.  There were no mixed signals with Henry.  If he needed something, he said so.  If he hated something, he let you know.  If he didn’t say anything at all, it usually meant you had done your job correctly.

Three months into working directly for him, I noticed something strange.  He had stopped asking anyone else for anything.

“Scarlett.”

I looked up from my computer.

“Yes, Mr. Nikodem?”

“The Daniels file.”

“It was delivered to your office twenty minutes ago.”

He frowned.

“I misplaced it.”

I stood and walked into his office.  It was sitting directly in front of him.  I picked it up and slid it six inches closer.

“It’s right here.”

He stared at it.

“Hm.”

That was his entire response.  I smiled to myself as I walked back out.  An hour later his voice echoed down the hallway again.

“Scarlett.”

“Yes?”

“My calendar.”

“It’s on your desk.”

He found it almost immediately.  Another grunt.  By December the entire executive floor had started joking that I wasn’t Henry’s assistant.  I was his memory.  Maxine even started calling me “Henry’s emotional support paralegal.”

The nickname stuck.  Henry pretended it irritated him.  It absolutely did not.  He simply became more dependent.  He trusted my schedules, my reports, my recommendations and my organization without ever actually saying so.  Coming from him, that was practically a declaration of love.  Outside of work, life wasn’t nearly as successful.  Maxine had finally convinced me to let her set me up with one of her friends.

His name was Jeff.  Jeff was nice.  Painfully nice.  He opened doors, remembered little details, always brought flowers, always texted good morning, always asked how my day had been.  He even laughed at my terrible jokes.  He was the kind of man every woman should probably want.

The problem was…I didn’t.  When he held my hand, it felt comfortable.  When he kissed me, it felt pleasant.  When he hugged me goodbye, I never wanted him to stay longer.

Being with Jeff felt less like dating and more like spending Saturday afternoons with an old friend.  I kept waiting for sparks, for butterflies, for something.  Nothing ever happened.

Maxine insisted feelings grew over time. Maybe she was right.  I certainly hoped so.

Because every time I compared Jeff to Ricky, it wasn’t fair.  No one could compete with the memory of someone who had shattered your heart.

Christmas week finally arrived.

For the first time in months I felt genuinely excited about something.  Mom had already called three times asking when I was coming home.  Dad had apparently bought enough food to feed a small army.  Liam promised he would actually stay awake through Christmas movie night this year.  I didn’t believe him of course.

     Nikodem Holdings decided to hold its annual Christmas party in the office building instead of renting an outside venue.  Rumor around the office was that Henry wanted tighter control after everything that happened at the Halloween party.  No one argued with the decision.  Especially not after Jake.

     When Friday evening arrived, Jeff picked me up wearing a charcoal suit with a deep red tie that matched my dress almost perfectly.

“You look incredible,” he said as I climbed into the passenger seat.

“So do you.”

He smiled.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

The drive downtown was quiet and easy.  Jeff filled the silence naturally, telling me stories about work and asking about my parents.  He really was easy to be around.  When we pulled into the parking garage, he came around and opened my door before offering me his arm.  I accepted it with a smile.  As we walked through the lobby, I barely recognized the building.  Normally sleek and modern, it had been transformed into something straight out of a Christmas movie.  Massive evergreen garlands wrapped around every railing.  White lights sparkled across the ceilings like stars.  Enormous wreaths hung between marble columns decorated with velvet burgundy bows.  Crystal snowflakes floated from invisible strings overhead, catching the light and throwing tiny rainbows across the floor.  The scent of cinnamon, pine and vanilla drifted through the air.  Somewhere nearby, a live string quartet played instrumental versions of classic Christmas songs.  Two enormous Christmas trees towered nearly twenty feet high in the center of the lobby.  Every branch was covered in gold ornaments, glass icicles and white poinsettias.  Artificial snow drifted gently across giant LED screens that made it look like the entire city was caught in a blizzard.

“They really go all out here, don’t they?” Jeff said.

I looked around in amazement.  “Apparently.”

We rode the elevator to the executive floor where the celebration was being held.  The doors opened to reveal another breathtaking sight.  Every conference room had been converted into something different.  One held an elaborate dessert display with chocolate fountains and pastries that looked too beautiful to eat.  Another featured a jazz trio.  The boardroom had been transformed into an elegant dining hall with candlelit tables and towering floral arrangements made entirely of white roses and evergreen branches.  Even Henry’s office doors stood open.  I never thought I’d see that happen.  Before we had taken more than a few steps, Maxine spotted us.  She squealed loud enough to make several executives turn around.

“There they are!”

She ran over and wrapped both of us in one giant hug.

“How’s my favorite couple?”

Jeff laughed.  “I’m hoping we’re your favorite.”

“You absolutely are.”

She linked arms with me.

“Come on. You have to see everything.”

For the next twenty minutes Maxine acted like an overexcited tour guide.  She showed us the ice sculpture carved into the company logo.  The espresso bar staffed by actual baristas.  The photo booth with professional photographers.  The custom gingerbread village complete with moving trains.  The rooftop terrace had even been enclosed in heated glass so guests could watch the snow fall over the city while sipping hot chocolate topped with homemade marshmallows.  It was extravagant.  Completely over the top.  Very Henry Nikodem.

     Eventually we made our way toward the executive section where Henry himself stood speaking with several board members.  When he noticed me approaching, his expression remained exactly the same.  Unreadable.

“Merry Christmas, boss.”

He grunted.  I reached into my purse and handed him a neatly wrapped package.  He stared at it then at me then back at the package.

“It’s called a gift,” I said with a smile. “And it’s for you.”

He accepted it like someone had just handed him a suspicious explosive.

“Thank you.”

The words sounded forced.  Then he walked away.  Jeff watched him disappear into the crowd.

“What a great guy.”

I laughed.  “He’s definitely not the warmest person I’ve ever met.”

“Warm?”  Jeff raised an eyebrow.

“I think my dentist has more personality.”

“I refuse to become a jerk just because he is.”

Jeff slipped an arm around my waist.

“I like that about you.”

We wandered back toward the bar.  Standing there was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.  Long blonde hair, perfect makeup, and elegant emerald gown that looked like it belonged on a runway.  She held a cosmopolitan while several men unsuccessfully tried to start conversations with her.  Trying to be friendly, I smiled.

“Hi. I’m Scarlett.”

Her eyes traveled slowly from my shoes to my face.

“I’m Miranda.”

The way she said it made it sound like she couldn’t believe I had spoken to her.  Then she turned and walked away.  Jeff watched her leave.  I noticed.  Oddly enough, I didn’t care.  Months ago, I probably would have been jealous.

Now…Nothing.

That realization bothered me more than Jeff looking.  Maybe Maxine was right.  Maybe I wasn’t over Ricky.  I spotted Maxine weaving quickly through the crowd.  The smile she’d worn all evening was gone.  Her face had tightened with worry.

“Scarlett.”

“What?”

“Can you come with me for a second?”

She glanced apologetically at Jeff.  “Sorry. We’ll be right back.”

Jeff nodded.  “No problem.”

Before I could ask another question, Maxine grabbed my wrist and started pulling me toward the hallway leading to the restrooms.

“Maxine, what the hell is going on?”

She lowered her voice.

“Look… I just wanted to prepare you.”

“For what?”

She hesitated.  Then opened her mouth to answer.  I never heard the words.  I walked directly into someone.  Solid, tall, my forehead collided with a broad chest.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

Strong hands steadied my shoulders before I lost my balance.  I looked up.  Every ounce of air left my lungs.  Dark wavy hair brushed against his collar.  Green eyes I had dreamed about for months stared back at me.

For one impossible second the room disappeared.  The music, the laughter, the Christmas lights, everything.  There was only him.

Ricky.

Ricky looked just as shocked as I felt.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly before the familiar smirk settled across his face, covering whatever emotion had been there a second before.

“Oh, Scarlett,” he said softly. “You never fail to disappoint.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and my heart betrayed me by skipping a beat.

Three months.  Three months without hearing his voice.  Three months of convincing myself I was over him.  Apparently, my body hadn’t gotten the memo.  I couldn’t speak.  Thankfully, Maxine stepped in.

“Hi, Mr. Nikodem! Are you back permanently?”

Ricky’s hands were still resting lightly on my shoulders from where he’d caught me.  I could feel the warmth of them through my dress.  It took visible effort, but he slowly let go and turned his attention to Maxine.

“No,” he answered. “Just for the holidays.”

His gaze drifted past me.  Straight to Jeff.  Maxine smiled brightly.

“Oh! Mr. Nikodem, excuse me. This is Jeff.”

I silently thanked every higher power that Maxine existed because I seemed to have completely lost the ability to form words.  Jeff stepped forward with an easy smile and extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

Ricky accepted it.

“Likewise.”

The handshake lasted barely a second before Jeff slipped an arm comfortably around my waist.

Everything about Ricky changed.  His expression stayed neutral.  His posture stayed relaxed.  Only his eyes gave him away.  They locked onto Jeff’s hand with a look that sent an unexpected shiver through me.

It was almost predatory.  Then, just as quickly, the expression vanished.

“Oh,” Ricky said casually. “You and Scarlett?”

Jeff nodded.

“We met through Maxine a few months ago.”

Ricky tilted his head.

“I could have sworn you were dating Maxine.”

Jeff laughed politely.

“No. She introduced us.”

Ricky’s attention shifted back to me.  I could feel my face heating under his stare.

“I’m sorry for your unfortunate situation, Jeff.”

The words landed like a slap.  Heat rushed through my chest.

Seriously?

After disappearing for months, this was what he chose to say?  Jeff blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

He sounded genuinely confused.  Of course he did.  He knew nothing about our history.  I forced a smile.

“Don’t pay any attention to Ricky, Jeff. He’s Liam’s best friend. We’ve all known each other since we were kids.”

I looked directly at Ricky.

“He’s always been kind of a dick.”

For a split second, I thought I’d finally offended him.  Instead, he smiled.  Actually smiled.  Before either of us could say another word, a woman’s voice floated through the hallway.

“Where have you been, baby?”

Miranda.

She walked toward Ricky with effortless confidence, her emerald gown shimmering under the Christmas lights.

Without hesitation, Ricky slipped an arm around her waist.  The movement was smooth, practiced, and intimate.  Something unpleasant settled in my stomach.  Of course he wasn’t alone.  Miranda looked us over politely enough.  There was a smile on her face.  It never reached her eyes.

“Miranda,” Ricky said, “this is Maxine, Scarlett…”

His gaze landed on Jeff.

“…James.”

I frowned.

“Jeff.”

Ricky looked at me with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not excused.”

My voice came out sharper than intended.

“His name is Jeff.”

Silence.

“And we’re leaving.”

I reached for Jeff’s hand before I could second-guess myself and pulled him back toward the ballroom.  Behind me I heard Maxine offering awkward goodbyes.  I didn’t look back.  I didn’t need to.  I could practically feel Ricky watching me walk away.

“Are you okay?” Jeff asked once we were clear of the hallway.

“Yeah.”

I forced a laugh.

“I’m sorry. Ricky and I go way back.”

“You don’t seem to like each other very much.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

He chuckled.

“Got it.”

Bless Jeff.  He didn’t pry.

He simply accepted the explanation and moved on.  The guilt settled a little heavier in my chest.  He deserved someone who wasn’t constantly thinking about another man.  A slow Christmas song drifted through the speakers.  Jeff offered his hand.

“Dance?”

I nodded.

“Sure.”

He guided me onto the dance floor.  His hand rested respectfully at my waist while mine settled on his shoulder.

We swayed slowly among dozens of other couples beneath thousands of twinkling lights.  For the first minute, I actually relaxed.  Then that familiar sensation crept over me.

The unmistakable feeling of being watched.  I glanced across the room.  Ricky was dancing with Miranda.  His hands rested at her waist.  His attention wasn’t on her.  It was on me.  Our eyes met.

The world seemed to narrow until nothing else existed.  Jeff spoke.  I didn’t hear him.  Ricky’s fingers tightened against Miranda’s dress, gathering the emerald fabric in his fist.  He pulled her closer.  Too close.

Something ugly twisted inside me.  Jealousy, possessiveness, pain.  Maybe all three.

For one impossible second, I wondered if he was imagining I was the woman in his arms.  The intensity in his stare made my pulse race.  Jeff turned us gently, breaking the moment.

When I looked back, Ricky was finally speaking to Miranda.  I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Can we get a drink?” I asked.

“Of course.”

We made our way to the bar.  Jeff excused himself to use the restroom.  The moment he disappeared, Maxine slid onto the stool beside me.  She looked almost nervous.

“Scarlett.”

“What?”

She hesitated.

“You know I really care about Jeff.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

Her words stung because they were true.

“I don’t want to hurt him either.”

“He’s a really good guy.”

“I know.”

She studied me for a long moment.

“It’s just…”

“What?”

“I know you’ve been spending time together.”

She glanced discreetly across the room.

“And now Ricky’s back.”

I cut her off before she could finish.

“Ricky has absolutely nothing to do with anything between Jeff and me.”

She didn’t argue.

Instead, she asked quietly,

“Then why couldn’t you stop looking at him while you were dancing?”

I opened my mouth.  Nothing came out.  Because she was right.

“The thing is,” Maxine continued gently, “Ricky clearly still affects you.”

I stared down into my drink.

“Only you know how much.”

Silence stretched between us.

“But if it’s even half as much as I think it is…”

She sighed.

“…maybe you should let Jeff go.”

My jaw dropped.

“Maxine, you’re the one who pushed us together.”

“I know.”

She looked genuinely guilty.

“I thought it would help you move on.”

“It did.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Did it?”

I looked across the room again.  Ricky was gone.  So was Miranda.  The empty space somehow hurt more than seeing him.  Slowly, I shook my head.

“No.”

My voice barely rose above a whisper.

“It didn’t.”

Maxine reached over and squeezed my hand.

“It isn’t fair to Jeff.”

I swallowed hard.

“No.”

“It isn’t.”

For the first time since we’d started dating, I admitted the truth.  Not just to Maxine, to myself.

No matter how kind Jeff was, no matter how safe he felt, no matter how hard I tried…

Part of my heart still belonged to Ricky.

Jeff returned carrying two drinks, instantly ending the conversation.  He smiled as though nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.  The guilt hit me all over again.  An hour later, I leaned against him and yawned.

“I’m getting tired.”

“You want to head out?”

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

We said our goodbyes and started toward the elevators.

As we walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

I never turned around.

Deep down, I already knew who it was.

I kicked off my heels, dropped my purse on the kitchen counter, and walked numbly toward my bedroom. The silence inside the apartment felt suffocating. Just a few hours ago I’d been surrounded by Christmas music, laughter, sparkling lights, and coworkers pretending everything was perfect.

Now all I could hear was Ricky’s voice.

“I’m sorry for your unfortunate situation, Jeff.”

I laughed bitterly through my tears.  Typical Ricky.  Three months without speaking to me.  Three months without a single phone call.  Three months pretending I didn’t exist.

Then he walked back into my life for ten minutes and somehow managed to turn everything upside down again.  I collapsed onto my bed and buried my face in my pillow.  What was wrong with me?  Why did one look from him still make me feel like the rest of the room disappeared?

Why had he stared at me like that while he was dancing with Miranda?

If he was happy…If he had moved on…If he really meant every horrible thing he said before leaving for Chicago…Then why couldn’t he stop looking at me?

I squeezed my eyes shut.  No.  I wasn’t doing this again.  I wasn’t going to spend another night trying to figure Ricky out.  He’d made himself perfectly clear months ago.

This could never be an actual relationship.

The words still hurt.  I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.  Poor Jeff.  The guilt settled heavily in my chest.  He hadn’t done a single thing wrong.  He was kind.  Funny, patient, he opened doors for me, remembered my favorite coffee order, and asked about my parents, texted me every morning just to wish me a good day, and he deserved someone who smiled because she was with him.

Not someone who spent an entire evening staring across a ballroom at another man.  Maxine had been right.  I hated admitting it.  She’d been completely right.  It wasn’t fair to Jeff.  I reached for my phone and stared at his name for a long time.  Finally, I typed.

Jeff, I’m so sorry, but I think we should talk after Christmas. You deserve someone who’s completely in this relationship, and I don’t think that’s me.

I stared at the message.  Then I hit send before I could change my mind.  Almost immediately my phone buzzed.

I kind of wondered if tonight would end this way.

My heart sank.

You’re an incredible woman, Scarlett. I just don’t think you’ve ever really been with me.

Fresh tears filled my eyes.

I’m sorry.

A few seconds later another message appeared.

Don’t apologize. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. Merry Christmas.

I cried harder than I had all night.  Not because I loved Jeff.  Because he deserved so much better than what I’d given him.

---

The next morning I wake feeling emotionally exhausted.  Christmas…finally.  I desperately needed a week away from work.  Away from Henry.  Away from the office.  Away from reminders of Ricky.

I pack my suitcase, load the presents I’d bought everyone into the trunk of my car, and started the familiar drive to my parents’ house.  About halfway there, the tension I’d been carrying for months slowly began to melt away.  The farther I drove from the city, the lighter I felt.  Snow covered the fields on either side of the highway.  Small towns were decorated with wreaths and twinkling lights.  Every radio station seemed to be playing Christmas music.  For the first time in months…

I smiled.

---

When I pull into my parents’ driveway, I immediately feel ten years younger.  The porch is wrapped in white lights.  Dad’s ridiculous inflatable Santa still stands crookedly in the yard.  Mom’s handmade wreath hangs proudly on the front door.  Some things never change.  I grab my suitcase and walk inside.  The smell hits me instantly.  Cinnamon, pine, sugar cookies, home.

     Every Christmas decoration is exactly where it has always been.  The same nativity scene sits on the fireplace.  The same knitted stockings hangs from the mantel.  The same little ceramic village stretches across the buffet in the dining room.  It was like stepping into a memory.

“Scarlett!”

Mom practically runs across the room before throwing her arms around me.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.”

She squeezes me tighter.  Dad joins us a second later.

“My second favorite girl.”

I laughed.

“Who’s your first?”

“Your mother.”

“Smart answer.”

He kisses the top of my head.

“You look tired.”

“I’ve just been working a lot.”

“Well, you’re home now.”

The simple words warm me more than the fireplace ever could.  I look around.

“Where’s Liam?”

Mom rolls her eyes affectionately.

“Running late. As always.”

Dad laughs.

“He called twenty minutes ago to say he was almost here.”

“So… another hour?”

“Probably.”

Mom smiles.

“Come help me finish the Christmas cookies.”

“I’d love to.”

---

For the next hour we bake together exactly like we have every Christmas since I was little.  Mom mixes the dough.  I cut out cookies.  Dad claims quality control and mysteriously makes half a dozen cookies disappear before they ever reached the decorating table.

“So…” Mom says casually while rolling dough.

“How’s Jeff?”

I hesitate.

“We broke up.”

Both of my parents stop moving.

Dad slowly sets down the cookie he was eating.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mom gives me that look only mothers can give.

“I’m sorry sweetie.”

I sighed.

“It’s okay.  He just wasn’t the one”

She reaches over and squeezes my hand.

I lean against the counter.

“I tried, Mom.”

“I know you did.”

“I wanted it to work.”

“I know.”

“But every time I was with him…”

I trailed off.

She nods understandingly.

Mom already knew.

She pulled me into a hug.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“I’m so tired.”

“I know.”

The timer beeps, giving both of us a chance to compose ourselves.  Dad slides the next tray into the oven.  Just then the front door opened.  Mom smiles.

“Oh good. They’re finally here.”

I laugh.

“Took Liam long enough.”

I wipe my hands on a towel and follow my parents into the family room.  I round the corner still smiling.  Then everything inside me stopped.  Liam isn’t alone.  Standing beside him, hands shoved casually into his coat pockets, dark wavy hair brushing his shoulders, green eyes already fixed on me…Was Ricky.

He looked every bit as stunned as I felt.  Mom squeals.

“Ricky!”

She hurries across the room and hugs him tightly.

“Oh honey, it’s so good to see you.”

He smiles.

“It really is good to see you too.  You’re so skinny.”

“I’ve been working.”

“Nonsense. You’re staying all week and I’m feeding you.”

A genuine laugh escapes him.

“If that’s okay with you.”

Mom smacks his arm.

“You know this has always been your home.”

For just a second something vulnerable crosses Ricky’s face.  Then his eyes find mine again.  He hasn’t looked away once.

“Hey, Scar.”

His voice was calm.  Casual.  Like we’d seen each other yesterday instead of ripping each other’s hearts out months ago.  Every pair of eyes in the room shifts toward me.  I forced myself to breathe.

“Hey.”

It barely comes out above a whisper.  Liam frowns immediately.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Mom claps her hands together before anyone can ask another question.

“Liam! Come taste the cookies before your father eats them all.”

“I heard that,” Dad protested.

“You were supposed to.”

Within seconds the three of them disappear toward the kitchen, arguing playfully over who geta the first cookie.  The house fills with laughter leaving Ricky and me standing alone in the middle of the living room.  The silence stretches between us.  I take two slow steps forward until only a couple feet separate us.  Keeping my voice low, I look him directly in the eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

One corner of his mouth lifts.

“I came to spend Christmas with the only family that’s ever really been mine.”

The words hit harder than I expect because they were true.  My parents had practically raised him.  He’d spent more holidays in this house than at his own.  Mom loves him like another son.  Dad treats him no differently than Liam.  For one brief second I actually feel guilty.  Then I remembered Chicago.  The phone call, the lies, the months of silence, and the guilt vanished.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.”

His smile fades just enough for me to notice.

“I know.”

Before I can answer, Mom calls from the kitchen.

“Scarlett! Ricky! Come decorate cookies!”

I look at him one last time.

“I have absolutely nothing to say to you.”

I pick up my suitcase and walk upstairs without another word.  My bedroom looks exactly as I’d left it months ago.  Same quilt, same books, same family pictures.  I closed the door behind me and lean against it, trying to steady my breathing. Then I remembered something.  My bedroom wasn’t at the end of the hallway.  It is directly across from the guest room.

The guest room Ricky has slept in every Christmas since we were kids.  Which meant for the next week he would be sleeping twenty feet away.  I close my eyes.  This was going to be the longest Christmas of my life.

I forced myself out of bed, pulled on a pair of leggings and one of my old oversized Christmas sweaters, then slowly made my way downstairs.  The smell of bacon and pancakes drifted through the house.  Dad was already at the stove wearing his ridiculous apron that read **Kiss the Cook**.  Mom was setting the table.  Liam was scrolling through his phone while stealing pieces of bacon every time Dad turned around.

And Ricky…

Ricky sat quietly at the end of the table, a mug of coffee in his hands.  His dark green eyes lifted the moment I walked into the kitchen.  He didn’t smile, he just watched me.  I refused to acknowledge him.

“Morning,” I said brightly to everyone else.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Mom answered.

Dad turned from the stove.

“Perfect timing.”

He slid another pancake onto a plate.

“You ready to go get the Christmas tree today?”

A smile spread across my face before I could stop it.

“Of course, Dad.”

Liam groaned dramatically.

“You’re twenty-four years old and you still get excited about picking out a tree.”

I laughed.

“I’ll stop getting excited when you stop acting like a grumpy old man.”

“I’m two years older than you.”
“And you act twenty years older.”
Mom laughed.

“I think she’s got you there.”

Dad pointed his spatula toward Liam.

“You’ve complained every year since you were twelve.”

“I just don’t understand why we can’t buy a fake one.”

Dad looked horrified.

“Because we’re civilized people.”

The entire table laughed.  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Ricky watching me.  Really watching me.  There was something almost peaceful about his expression.  Like he was simply enjoying listening to me laugh.  No.  I wasn’t doing this.  I reached for the syrup without looking in his direction.  Pretend he wasn’t here.  That was the plan.  I intended to stick to it.

—

The tree farm looked exactly the same as it had every Christmas growing up.  Rows and rows of evergreen trees stretched across the snowy hills.  Children ran through the fields carrying candy canes while parents argued over which tree was “perfect.”   Dad immediately grabbed a saw.

“Alright.”

He rubbed his hands together.

“Let’s find this year’s masterpiece.”

Mom rolled her eyes.

“Translation: we’ll be here three hours.”

Dad ignored her.  Liam immediately wandered off toward the hot chocolate stand.  Ricky followed him.  I silently thanked the universe.  The next hour passed surprisingly peacefully.  Mom and I debated tree shapes.  Dad insisted every tree looked beautiful.  Liam complained about being cold.  Some things never change.  Eventually we found one.  It was tall, full, and perfectly shaped.  Dad stepped forward with his saw.

“Moment of truth.”

Ricky quietly took the saw from him.

“I’ve got it.”

Dad smiled.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

For a brief moment I forgot to be angry.  Watching Ricky kneel in the snow, carefully cutting down our Christmas tree like he’d done every year since he was sixteen, felt strangely comforting.  Like no time had passed.  Then he looked up.  Our eyes met.  The memory shattered.  I quickly looked away.

—

Dinner that evening was loud.  Exactly the way Christmas dinners should be.  Mom had made pot roast with mashed potatoes, homemade rolls and enough vegetables to feed an army.  Everyone talked over each other.  Everyone except me.  I mostly pushed food around my plate.  Halfway through dinner Liam looked across the table.

“So…”

He pointed his fork toward me.

“Where’s Jeff?”

My stomach tightened.  I kept my eyes on my mashed potatoes.

“We broke up.”

The room went noticeably quieter.

“Oh.”

Liam looked surprised.

“What happened?”

“It just wasn’t right.”

I shrugged.

“We’re better off as friends.”

I concentrated on cutting my roast into tiny pieces.  Even without looking up, I could feel Ricky’s stare burning into the side of my face.  It made concentrating almost impossible.  Dad cleared his throat.

“Well…”

He looked toward Ricky.

“Are you seeing anybody these days?”

I froze.  Only for a second.  Not long enough for anyone to notice.  Except…

I knew Ricky noticed.  He always noticed.

“No, sir.”

His answer came easily.

“I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Dude.”

Liam laughed.

“What about that absolute smoke show…”

He snapped his fingers.

“What was her name?”

He looked toward me.

“Miranda.”

My grip tightened around my fork.  There it was.  Miranda.  I hated that hearing her name still bothered me.  I hated it even more because I felt Ricky looking directly at me.

“She’s just a friend.”

His voice remained calm.  Nothing more nothing less.  Liam burst out laughing.

“I’d like friends like that.”

Mom gave him a look.

“Liam.”

“What?”

“You know exactly what.”

He grinned.

“I’m just saying.”

Mom shook her head before turning back toward Ricky.

“So…”

“How do you like Chicago?”

He leaned back slightly.

“It’s different.”

“You sound thrilled.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth.

“The work is… interesting.”

“You’ll come back eventually though?”

There was a pause.  Long enough that I finally looked up.  His eyes found mine immediately.

“I didn’t exactly have much choice in going.”

Something inside me shifted.  What did that mean?  Hadn’t he told me he wanted to leave?  Hadn’t he made it sound like it was none of my business?  Mom tilted her head.

“So this wasn’t your decision?”

He looked down at his plate.

“No, ma’am.”

Another pause.

“I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

The answer felt… strange. Like there was something underneath it.  Something he wasn’t saying.  Dad nodded knowingly.

“Sometimes that’s life.”

“It is.”

I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said.  *I didn’t have much choice.*  Then why had he spoken to me like…

No.  I pushed the thought away.  I wasn’t going down that road again.  Dinner eventually wound down.  Mom clapped her hands excitedly.

“I was thinking we could all go Christmas caroling tonight.”

Liam groaned.

“Seriously?”

“It’s tradition.”

He sighed dramatically.

“I know.”

She turned toward me.

“What do you think, sweetheart?”

I forced a smile.

“I’m actually pretty tired.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s been a long week.”

She looked disappointed.

“Okay.”

Then she looked toward Ricky.

“What about you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I think I’ve got a headache.”

Liam threw both hands into the air.

“Seriously?”

“Sorry.”

“Fine.”

Liam sighed dramatically.

“I guess it’s just us.”

Within minutes everyone was pulling on coats and scarves.  I quietly slipped upstairs while they searched for gloves and boots.  I reached my bedroom and shut the door behind me.  Then… I locked it.  For the first time all day I let out the breath I’d been holding.  Finally.  Peace.  I changed into sweatpants and sat on the edge of my bed.  Not even two minutes passed before three quiet knocks echoed through the room.  Knock.  Knock.  Knock.  I closed my eyes.  Of course.

“Scar.”

His voice was muffled through the door.

“Go away.”

Silence.  Then another knock.

“We need to talk.”

I laughed bitterly.

“We really don’t.”

“I think we do.”

I walked over and rested my forehead against the door.

“You gave up the right to ask me for conversations when you disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear.”

“You moved to another city!”

“I know.”

“You ignored me.”

Silence.  Then quietly…

“I know.”

Something about those two words made me angrier.  I unlocked the door and yanked it open.

“What?”

He stood there wearing jeans and a dark gray sweater, hands shoved into his pockets.  He looked tired.  Really tired.  Dark circles rested beneath his eyes.  For one dangerous second I wondered if he’d been sleeping as poorly as I had.  Then I remembered Chicago.

“What do you want?”

His eyes searched my face.

“Jeff.”

I blinked.

“What about him?”

“You broke up.”

I folded my arms.

“And?”

“So why?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

“I asked you a question.”

I laughed.  It wasn’t a happy laugh.

“It is absolutely none of your business.”

“It is to me.”

My temper snapped.

“No.”

I stepped closer.

“It stopped being your business the second you decided I wasn’t worth fighting for.”

His jaw tightened.

“Scarlett…”

“No.”

I pointed toward the hallway.

“You don’t get to walk back into my life, interrogate me about my boyfriend, and pretend the last three months never happened.”

“He isn’t your boyfriend anymore.”

My eyes narrowed.

“So you’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

He didn’t answer.  The silence answered for him.  A strange mix of satisfaction and fury washed over me.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

“So do you.”

I stared at him.

“What does that mean?”

“You looked at me all night.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You were practically undressing me with your eyes while dancing with Miranda.”

“I wasn’t looking at Miranda.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“You were just touching her like that for fun.”

His expression darkened.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you didn’t know exactly why I was touching her.”

The words hung between us.  Heavy.  Dangerous.  My heart started pounding.  I hated him.  I wanted to kiss him.  I hated that I wanted to kiss him.

“You don’t get to be jealous anymore.”

His voice dropped lower.

“Who said I wasn’t?”

The air between us suddenly felt too thin.  Neither of us moved.  Neither of us looked away.  Anger, frustration, longing.  Every emotion we’d been burying for months crashed together in the narrow hallway outside my bedroom.  I tightened my grip on the doorknob.

“If you came here to fight…”  I whispered.  “…you’re doing a hell of a job.”

His eyes never left mine.

“I didn’t come here to fight.”

“Then why are you here?”

His jaw flexed.

For a second I thought he was finally going to tell me the truth.  Instead, he simply looked at me with that same impossible intensity.  The kind of look that made me question everything.

“I don’t know how to stay away from you.” I stare at him.  The space between us had somehow gotten very small.  I go to close my door before I change my mind and Ricky stops the door. 
“Let go Ricky” I say without any conviction.  He steps up closer to me.  My breath hitches.  He sees it and smirks which infuriates me. So I shove him.  Hard. He grabs my shoulder and his mouth is on mine.

“Fuck you, Ricky,” I say, and I shove him.

Ricky’s hands push against the wall behind me. “I know Scarlet. I’m a piece of shit, but I can’t fucking stay away from you.” He closes his eyes like he’s fighting himself. He’s inches from me and I can’t help but wrap my arms around him. It doesn’t make any sense. I hate him, but I can’t stay away either.

His hands drop to my shoulders and slide down my arms. He nuzzles my neck and it makes me shudder. I kiss his cheek and then his chin and the heat in his eyes makes me wet. I kiss him hard. He grabs my ass and squeezes it, pushing my pelvis against his, and I can feel the outline of his dick. My hips instinctively roll against him and he moans.

The hand that is grabbing my ass slides up under my skirt and I gasp. My nipples immediately harden, and Ricky circles my clit. “You’re so fucking wet, Scarlet,” Rick whispers in a shaking breath. He slips a finger inside me and I moan.

“You like that?”

I nod my head yes and he slips another finger inside. My hips roll against him, and he fucks me hard with his fingers.

“Ricky… oh fuck…” I pull Ricky’s shirt up over his head and lick one of his nipples. The orgasm is about to overcome me and I’m shaking. I’m making sounds I don’t even recognize. He tugs my shirt off with his other hand and undid my bra like a fucking pro.

“Fuck me, Ricky,” I cry out and he completely stills.

“Is that what you really want, Scar?” He breathes, kissing my neck. I nod my head yes. Ricky pulls my chin down.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that’s what you really want right now.”

Without even thinking about it, I say, “I’m not a virgin anymore, Ricky.”

His eyes widen and he looks hurt. I go on quickly. “So if that’s what you’re worried about, don’t.”

“I just wanted you to be sure, Scarlett.” He sounds careful.

After a moment he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a condom. He’s about to rip it open and I stop him with my hand. I shake my head no. His eyes widen.

“Scar, if you’ve been active—”

“I’ve been tested since. I’m clean and I’m on the pill. You?”

“I’m clean,” he whispers as he takes one of my breasts in his mouth.

I let out a sigh as he pumps his fingers in me again, circling my clit with his thumb. It doesn’t take long and I’m shaking as my orgasm takes me.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my God, Ricky.” His fingers pull out of me and he licks them clean.

“Look at me, Scarlett.” I look at him in a daze. His eyes are so full of heat. His hands slip my panties down and he stares at me the whole time. He lifts one of my legs over his arm and rubs his dick up and down the length of my slit. I feel my eyes starting to roll back.

“No, Scarlett. Look me in the eyes while I enter you.”

I snap back to attention. He kisses me gently and pushes into me to the hilt. I scratch his back and let out a cry. The pain is too much. Ricky freezes deep inside me.

“Scarlett?” He whispers my name in question.

“Just stay still for a second,” I wince.

Tears are coming from the corners of my eyes.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, baby,” Ricky whispers.

He kisses my neck softly and massages my ass. Then he lifts me up gently and carries me to the bed. I see sweat beading on his forehead with the effort he’s making from not moving. Once I adjust somewhat I nod at Ricky and he pulls out slowly. I take a sharp intake of breath and Ricky, very slowly, pushes back in.

“Still hurts?” He asks.

I nod my head.

“Look at me, Scarlett. I want to see your beautiful eyes.”

I smile at him and he kisses me. He is being so gentle with me and going so slow. He pulls out and pushes back in about three more times and then the pain starts to disappear. He starts rubbing my clit in circles and my hips move to reach him.

“Ricky, this feels good,” I moan.

“Your pussy is so tight, Scarlett. I’m not going to last long,” He whispers in my ear.

I grab his ass and pull him into me faster.

“Faster, Ricky, please.”

He fucks me harder and faster while rubbing my clit and I feel something huge building inside me. My legs shake hard.

“Cum for me, Scarlett. Look at me while you cum.”

I stare into Ricky’s eyes when I cum. My moans are half screams and I hear Ricky yell out, “Oh shit, Scarlett, I’m cumming inside you.”

I feel him spill his hot warmth in me and he collapses on top of me. I writhe from the orgasm underneath him. Ricky kisses me long and deep.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, Scarlett.”

I look at him with a confused look. He smiles at me.

“You have no idea. Why—”

He stops talking when we hear the front door open and the family talking and laughing. Ricky’s eyes go wide and we both move at lightning speed getting dressed.

Chapter 23 – Three AM Truths

I dress faster than I’ve ever dressed in my life, yanking my shirt over my head while simultaneously shoving Ricky toward the door with my other hand. My fingers fumble with the button on my jeans.

“Scarlett, we need to—”

“No time, Ricky. Later.“

I give him one final push—harder than I mean to—and he stumbles into the hallway. I slam the door shut and press my back against it, my heart hammering so violently I can feel it in my throat, in my wrists, behind my eyes. The wood is cool against my overheated skin. I’m still catching my breath from what we were doing thirty seconds ago, and now I’m catching my breath from sheer panic.

I hear them before I see them—Mom’s bright laughter echoing down the hallway, Dad’s lower chuckle in response. Footsteps. Multiple sets. Getting closer.

Oh god. Oh god.

I press my ear to the door.

“Ricky?” That’s Liam’s voice, dripping with sarcasm. “You really missed out on some great caroling.”

There’s a pause. I imagine Ricky standing there in the hallway, probably still flushed, probably looking exactly like what he was just doing. My stomach twists.

Then I hear him force a chuckle—it sounds almost natural. Almost. “I’m jealous, Liam. Did you guys have fun?”

“Oh yeah, so much fun freezing my ass off singing Christmas songs to random strangers who clearly wanted us to leave.” Liam’s voice gets closer. “Dude, why are you all sweaty?”

My hand flies to my mouth.

“Oh.” Another pause. Ricky’s thinking fast. “I was just working out a bit. You know. Gotta keep up the abs.”

“You’re insane, man.” Liam laughs. “Let’s go get a drink.”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of tired—”

“Fuck you, bro, come on. I’m bored as hell and I want to get laid. I need my wingman.”

There’s a beat of silence. I can practically feel Ricky’s reluctance through the door.

“Okay,” he finally says. “But not too long. I’m seriously wiped.”

Their voices fade as they move down the hallway, Liam already launching into some story about a girl he saw at the bar earlier. I hear my parents’ voices join the mix—something about hot chocolate, something about Dad’s terrible singing voice—and then it’s quiet again.

I slide down the door until I’m sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest.

That was too close.

Way, way too close.

My hands are shaking. I press my palms flat against the hardwood, trying to ground myself, but all I can think about is Ricky’s hands on me five minutes ago. His mouth. The way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Stop.

I push myself up and head for the bathroom. I need a shower. I need to wash this off—the sweat, the heat, the feeling of his skin against mine. I need to think clearly, and I can’t do that when I can still smell his cologne on my clothes.

---

The water is scalding, but I don’t adjust the temperature. I let it burn.

There’s a faint smear of blood on my inner thigh—not much, just enough to remind me what happened. What I let happen. What I wanted to happen.

I watch it swirl down the drain, pink against white porcelain.

Do I regret it?

No.

The answer comes immediately, without hesitation, and that scares me more than anything else.

I don’t regret it. In fact, I want to do it again. Badly. I want him to touch me the way he did tonight—like I was something precious and wild at the same time. I want to feel his weight on top of me, his breath against my neck, the way he whispered my name like a prayer.

But I can’t.

I can’t.

I squeeze shampoo into my palm and work it through my hair, scrubbing harder than necessary. The scent of coconut and vanilla fills the steam, and I focus on that instead of the ache building in my chest.

He made it crystal clear he doesn’t want a relationship with me. He said it himself before he left for Chicago—it’s just physical, Scarlett. Just an attraction. That’s all this is.

And I believed him. Or at least, I tried to.

But the way he was with me tonight… the way he looked at me…

No.

I shove my head under the spray, letting the water drown out the thought.

Stop this, Scarlett.

When people show you who they are, believe them. That’s what Mom always says. And Ricky showed me exactly who he was when he walked away without a word. When he came back cold and distant. When he made it clear I was nothing more than unfinished business.

If a man wants you, he lets you know. He doesn’t play games. He doesn’t leave you guessing.

I rinse the conditioner from my hair and turn off the water. The silence is deafening.

I dry off quickly, roughly, and pull on an oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts. When I get back to my room, my phone is lighting up on the nightstand.

Dickhead: Why did you lie to me, Scar?

My stomach drops.

I stare at the screen for a long moment, then type back.

Me: Lie about what?

The response is immediate.

Dickhead: You know.

My jaw tightens. Of course he’s doing this. Of course he can’t just let it go.

Me: I don’t want to talk about it.

Dickhead: We are going to talk about it.

Me: No, we aren’t.

Dickhead: When I get back, we’re talking about it.

Something hot and sharp twists in my chest—anger, maybe, or hurt, or some toxic combination of both. I type the words before I can stop myself.

Me: It was just a fuck, Ricky. Remember? Just a physical attraction. That’s all.

I hit send and immediately silence my phone, tossing it face-down on the bed.

My hands are shaking again.

I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have thrown his own words back at him like a weapon. Now he’ll think I’m still hurt about the whole thing.

Which I am.

But I don’t want him to know that.

I climb into bed and pull the covers up to my chin, staring at the ceiling. The room feels too big and too small at the same time. I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin—his fingers trailing down my spine, his lips against my collarbone, the way he held my face like I was something breakable.

You feel like home.

No. Stop.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think about anything else. Work. The Nikodem account. The presentation I need to finish. Anything but the way Ricky’s voice cracked when he said my name.

Eventually, exhaustion wins. I drift off into a restless sleep, my dreams full of hands and heat and words I can’t quite hear.

---

I feel it before I’m fully awake—the gentle sweep of fingers brushing hair off my face. The familiar scent of cologne, woodsy and warm.

“Wake up, Scarlett.”

I open my eyes slowly, disoriented. The room is dark except for the faint glow of the streetlight outside. Ricky is sitting on the edge of my bed, his face half in shadow.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my voice rough with sleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s three.” His voice is low, steady. “I need to talk to you.”

I blink at him, trying to process. “Are you kidding me? You wake me up at three in the morning after going out drinking all night to talk?”

“Yes.”

“Get out.”

“Why did you lie?”

I sit up, pulling the blanket around me like armor. “Seriously? Ricky, you’re insane.”

“Tell me.” He leans closer, and I can smell the faint trace of whiskey on his breath, but his eyes are clear. Focused. Intense.

“It doesn’t matter—”

His hand cups my face, cutting off my protest. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, and then he’s leaning in, pressing his lips to mine. It’s gentle. Achingly gentle.

“Tell me,” he whispers against my mouth.

Then his lips move to my neck, and my breath catches.

I’m furious—at him for waking me, at myself for responding, at the universe for making this so goddamn complicated. But my body doesn’t care about any of that. My body remembers exactly how he made me feel a few hours ago.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper, but it comes out breathy and weak, and I hate the betrayal.

His hand trails down my neck, fingers ghosting over the side of my breast, then sliding to the hem of my oversized shirt. My breathing picks up. He’s kissing my collarbone now, slow and deliberate, and I feel my resolve crumbling like sand.

“Tell me,” he murmurs against my skin.

The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Because I didn’t want to stop it. I wanted you to fuck me, and I thought if you knew it was my first time, you’d stop.”

He goes still.

Then, slowly, he lifts his head to look at me. His eyes search mine in the darkness, and I see something there I can’t quite name—surprise, maybe, or regret, or something deeper.

“I wouldn’t have stopped, Scar,” he says quietly.

And then he’s kissing me again, but this time it’s different. Deeper. More deliberate. Like he’s trying to tell me something he doesn’t have words for.

My traitorous body responds immediately. My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, and he makes a low sound in the back of his throat that sends heat pooling low in my belly. His tongue explores my mouth, slow and thorough, and I lose myself in it—in him, in the taste of whiskey and want.

His hand slides into my hair, gripping tight, angling my head exactly where he wants it. I feel his body shift, moving over mine, and instinctively I wrap my legs around him. He’s hard against me, even through his jeans, and I can’t stop the small moan that escapes.

“Ricky,” I breathe.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his forehead resting against mine. His breath is ragged. “Scarlett… you feel like home.”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Home.

Something cracks open in my chest—something I’ve been keeping locked and buried for years. The tenderness in his voice, the way he’s looking at me like I’m the answer to a question he’s been asking his whole life—

It’s too much.

It’s too much.

I freeze.

Ricky feels it immediately. He pulls back, his hand still cradling my face like I’m made of glass. “Are you okay, baby?”

The endearment almost breaks me.

I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, and I hate myself for it. I grab my shirt from where it’s bunched around my ribs and yank it back down.

“We can’t do this again, Ricky.”

He stares at me, confused. “Why?”

“Because it’s just an attraction, right?” My voice is sharper than I intend, edged with something desperate. “We got it out of the way now, so we can just… let it be.”

“Scarlett—”

“Go to bed, Ricky.”

He doesn’t move. He’s looking at me like I just slapped him, his jaw tight, his eyes searching mine for something I can’t give him.

I turn away, lying back down and facing the wall. I pull the blanket up to my chin, creating a barrier between us.

“Scarlett…” His voice is strained now, almost pleading.

I hear him shift, and for a moment I think he’s going to argue. Going to push. Going to make me explain why I’m doing this.

But he doesn’t.

I hear him stand. Hear his footsteps cross the room. Hear the door open and close with a soft click.

And then I’m alone.

The tears come immediately, hot and silent. I press my face into the pillow to muffle the sound, my whole body shaking with the effort of keeping quiet.

I can still feel him—his hands, his mouth, the weight of him. I can still hear his voice, rough and vulnerable: You feel like home.

But home is dangerous. Home is the place that can hurt you most when it’s taken away.

And Ricky already left once.

I can’t survive him leaving again.

So I’ll leave first. I’ll push him away before he has the chance to walk away from me. I’ll protect myself the only way I know how—by making sure he never gets close enough to destroy me.

Even if it destroys me anyway.

I cry until there’s nothing left, until my eyes are swollen and my throat is raw. And then I lie there in the dark, staring at the wall, feeling the ghost of his touch on my skin and hating myself for wanting more.

For wanting him.

For wanting something I can never let myself have.

**8/14 Update**

Chapter 24 – Jealousy

I wake up determined.

Today, I’m going to act normal. Completely, perfectly normal. Because nothing happened last night. Nothing that matters, anyway. We didn’t cross any lines that can’t be uncrossed. And I definitely don’t want him.

I repeat it to myself as I brush my teeth. As I pull my hair into a ponytail. As I stare at my reflection in the mirror and try to ignore the faint bruise on my collarbone that I’ll need to cover with concealer.

Nothing happened.

I don’t want him.

Everything is fine.

The lies taste bitter, but I swallow them anyway.

---

The kitchen smells like butter and vanilla when I walk in. Mom is at the stove, flipping pancakes with the practiced ease of someone who’s made breakfast for this family a thousand times. She’s humming something—a Christmas song, probably—and the normalcy of it makes my chest ache.

“Good morning, sweetie!” She beams at me over her shoulder.

I smile back, and it almost feels real. “Morning, Mom.”

I move to the counter and start helping without being asked, reaching for the bowl of batter and stirring it absently. The rhythm is soothing. Familiar. Safe.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” I ask, even though I should already know.

Mom gives me a look—the kind that says you know exactly what’s on the schedule—but her tone stays light. “We have the family party at Aunt Rachel’s tonight, Scarlett.”

Right. Of course. We’ve only had this routine my entire life. Christmas Eve caroling, Christmas morning at home, and the day after Christmas at Aunt Rachel’s house for the extended family gathering. How could I forget?

“Right,” I say, nodding. “Sorry. Still waking up.”

Mom studies me for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she doesn’t push. “You okay, honey? You seem a little… distracted.”

“I’m fine.” The words come out too quickly. “Just tired.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but before she can say anything else, the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it!” Liam’s voice echoes from somewhere in the house, followed by the sound of his footsteps thundering toward the front door.

I hear the door open. Male voices. Laughter.

“Look who’s here, guys!”

I glance up from the batter just as Liam walks into the kitchen with someone trailing behind him. My brain takes a second to catch up, and then—

“Tommy?”

He grins at me, and I’m struck by how much he’s changed. Tommy Chen was one of our closest friends in high school—part of our little group that included me, Liam, Ricky, and a few others. But I haven’t seen him in years. He moved to California for college and stayed out there for work.

He’s taller than I remember. Broader in the shoulders. His hair is styled differently—shorter on the sides, longer on top—and he’s wearing a fitted navy sweater that makes him look like he walked out of a magazine. He’s handsome now, in a way that’s almost startling.

“Scarlett!” He opens his arms, and I don’t hesitate.

I cross the kitchen and hug him tightly, laughing. “Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

“Surprise visit,” he says, squeezing me back. “My parents guilt-tripped me into coming home for the holidays, so here I am.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” And I mean it. Tommy was always easy to be around—funny, kind, perceptive in a way that made you feel seen without feeling exposed.

“Ricky, man, look who came over!”

Liam’s voice cuts through the moment, and I feel Tommy release me. We both turn toward the doorway.

Ricky is standing there.

And the look on his face makes my stomach drop.

He’s not smiling. He’s not moving. He’s just… staring. At me. At Tommy. At the space between us that’s still too close.

His jaw is tight. His hands are clenched at his sides. And his eyes—god, his eyes—are dark and cold and burning all at once.

He looks like he wants to kill someone.

“Hey, Ricky.” Tommy’s voice is casual, oblivious. He steps forward with his hand extended. “Long time, man.”

Ricky doesn’t move for a beat too long. Then, slowly, he reaches out and shakes Tommy’s hand. “Yeah. Long time.”

His voice is flat. Controlled. Dangerous.

I swallow hard and look away, focusing on the pancakes like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

What the hell is his problem?

---

An hour later, I’m sitting on the back porch with Tommy, nursing a cup of coffee and trying to ignore the fact that Ricky has been watching me through the kitchen window for the past ten minutes.

Tommy notices. Of course he does.

“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair and giving me a knowing look. “You want to tell me what that was about?”

“What what was about?”

“Ricky looking at me like I just stole his car.”

I laugh, but it sounds forced. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Scarlett.” Tommy’s voice is gentle but firm. “Come on. It’s me.”

I sigh and set my coffee down. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is with you two.”

I glance at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Tommy says, leaning forward, “that anyone with eyes could see the way you and Ricky have been circling each other since high school. The tension between you two could power a small city.”

My cheeks flush. “That’s not—”

“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. “I’m not judging. I’m just saying… it’s obvious. At least to me.”

I stare at him for a long moment, then let out a breath. “Okay. Fine. Something happened.”

“I knew it.”

“But it’s not what you think.” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. “It’s just… physical. That’s all. He made that very clear.”

Tommy’s expression softens. “And what do you want it to be?”

The question hits me harder than I expect. I open my mouth to answer, then close it again.

What do I want?

“I don’t know,” I finally admit. “I don’t know if it matters.”

“It matters, Scar.”

We sit in silence for a moment, and then Tommy shifts in his chair, his expression changing. He looks nervous suddenly. Uncertain.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks quietly.

“Of course.”

He takes a breath. “I’m gay.”

I blink at him, processing. Then I smile. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looks surprised.

“Yeah. Okay.” I reach over and squeeze his hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

His shoulders relax, and he lets out a shaky laugh. “God, I’ve been so nervous about saying it out loud. I haven’t told anyone here yet. Not Liam. Not Ricky. My parents don’t even know.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Timing, I guess? I want to tell them. I’m going to tell them. I’m just… waiting for the right moment.”

“They’ll be fine with it,” I say firmly. “Liam and Ricky love you. They’re not going to care.”

“I know. Logically, I know that. But still.” He shrugs. “It’s scary.”

“I get it.” I squeeze his hand again. “But for what it’s worth? I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks, Scar.” He smiles, and it’s genuine this time. “That means a lot.”

We sit there for a while longer, talking about his life in California, his job, the guy he’s been seeing. It feels good. Easy. Like old times.

And then Tommy glances toward the kitchen window and grins. “He’s still watching you, by the way.”

I follow his gaze and see Ricky standing there, arms crossed, staring at us with that same dark, unreadable expression.

“Jesus,” I mutter.

“He’s got it bad,” Tommy says, amused.

“He’s got nothing,” I say, but even I don’t believe it.

---

When we finally go back inside, Ricky is sitting on the couch with Liam, pretending to watch TV. But I can feel his eyes on me the second I walk into the room.

Tommy notices too. He leans in and whispers, “This is going to be fun.”

“Shut up,” I hiss, but I’m smiling despite myself.

“Hey, Tommy,” I say, louder now. “You should come to the party tonight. At Aunt Rachel’s.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fun. Right, Ricky?”

Ricky’s gaze snaps to mine, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch.

“Sure,” he says flatly. “The more the merrier.”

Liam, oblivious as always, grins. “Hell yeah, man. It’ll be like old times.”

Tommy agrees, and we all fall into easy conversation—everyone except Ricky, who stays silent, his jaw tight, his eyes never leaving me.

I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

And god help me, I like it.

---

An hour later, I’m in the hallway, heading toward my room, when a hand closes around my wrist and pulls me sideways.

I barely have time to gasp before I’m being shoved into the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind us.

Ricky locks it.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, but my voice comes out breathless.

He turns to face me, and the look in his eyes makes my knees weak.

“What am I doing?” His voice is low. Dangerous. “What the fuck are you doing, Scarlett?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.” He steps closer, crowding me against the sink. “You and Tommy. All cozy on the porch. Whispering. Laughing. Inviting him to the party.”

I cross my arms and tilt my chin up, meeting his glare head-on. “So?”

“So?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Are you seriously trying to make me jealous?”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” I smile sweetly. “And even if I was, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

His eyes flash.

“Nothing I can do about it,” he repeats slowly.

“Nope.”

For a moment, he just stares at me. And then, in one swift motion, he spins me around and presses me against the sink, his body flush against my back.

I gasp.

His hand comes up to wrap around my throat—not squeezing, just holding—and his mouth is at my ear.

“You think I can’t do anything about it?” His voice is rough, edged with anger and something darker. “You think I’m just going to stand there and watch you flirt with him?”

“I wasn’t flirting,” I manage, but my voice is shaky now.

“Liar.”

His other hand slides down my side, over my hip, and I feel him hard against me.

“You want to push me, Scarlett?” he murmurs. “Fine. Let’s see how far you can push before I snap.”

My heart is racing. My skin is on fire. And I know I should tell him to stop, should push him away, should do something—

But I don’t.

Instead, I arch back against him and whisper, “Maybe I want you to snap.”

He groans, low and guttural, and his hand tightens slightly on my throat.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Good.”

His hand slides lower, slipping under the waistband of my jeans, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning.

“Stay quiet,” he warns, his breath hot against my neck. “Or your whole family is going to hear what I’m doing to you.”

I nod, unable to speak, and he rewards me by sliding his fingers lower, finding me already wet.

“Fuck, Scarlett,” he breathes. “You’re soaked.”

I whimper, and his hand on my throat tightens just enough to remind me to stay silent.

He works me slowly, deliberately, his fingers circling and pressing in all the right places. I’m trembling, my hands gripping the edge of the sink, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So fucking perfect. So mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sends a thrill through me, and I press back against him harder.

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you’re mine.”

I shake my head, stubborn even now.

He pulls his hand away, and I nearly cry out in frustration.

“Ricky—”

“Say it.”

“No.”

He spins me around again, lifting me onto the sink in one smooth motion. My legs wrap around him instinctively, and he’s between them, his hands on my thighs, his eyes burning into mine.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he says, but there’s something almost affectionate in his tone now.

“And you’re an asshole.”

He smirks. “Yeah. But you like it.”

Before I can respond, he drops to his knees.

My eyes widen. “Ricky, we can’t—”

“Watch me.”

He pulls my jeans and underwear down in one swift motion, and then his mouth is on me, and I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

He’s relentless. His tongue works me with precision, finding every sensitive spot, every nerve ending. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

I’m shaking. Trembling. Falling apart.

“Ricky,” I gasp against my hand. “I can’t—I’m going to—”

“Do it,” he murmurs against me. “Come for me, Scarlett. But stay quiet.”

The command sends me over the edge. I come hard, my body convulsing, my hand pressed so tightly over my mouth I can barely breathe.

He doesn’t stop until I’m boneless, slumped back against the mirror, my chest heaving.

Slowly, he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark and satisfied.

“Still think there’s nothing I can do about it?” he asks, his voice rough.

I can’t answer. I can barely think.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead—surprisingly gentle after everything that just happened.

“Get dressed,” he murmurs. “Before someone comes looking for you.”

I nod weakly, and he unlocks the door and slips out, leaving me alone in the bathroom, trembling and breathless and completely wrecked.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

My cheeks are flushed. My lips are swollen. My eyes are wide and dazed.

I look like I’ve been thoroughly claimed.

And god help me, I loved every second of it.

I take a shaky breath and start pulling myself together, knowing that in a few minutes, I’ll have to walk back out there and pretend like nothing happened.

But everything has changed.

And we both know it.

**8/21/26 Updated**

Chapter 25 – The Wrong Kind of Jealousy

Getting ready for the party is a delicate art form tonight, and I am determined to master it.

Sweet but sexy. Effortless but devastating. The kind of look that says I didn’t try very hard while secretly representing forty-five minutes of very intentional effort.

I decide to wear my hair down, teasing the roots slightly before letting the waves fall loose around my shoulders. The auburn catches the lamplight when I move, and I catch myself admiring it in the mirror longer than necessary.

Then there’s the dress.

I brought it on a whim, half-convinced I’d never actually wear it, but tonight feels like the night. Emerald green, fitted through the bodice and waist, with a skirt that falls in soft folds to mid-calf—except for the slit. The slit is the problem. Or the point, depending on how you look at it. It cuts high up my thigh, higher than anything I’d normally wear to a family function, but it’s tasteful. Elegant, even. Christmas-colored and sinful in equal measure.

Emerald has always been my color. Something about the way it plays against my hair and skin, making everything look warmer, richer. My mother used to say I was born to wear jewel tones. Tonight, I’m inclined to agree with her.

A knock sounds at my door just as I’m smoothing the fabric over my hips.

“Come in!”

Tommy pokes his head through, and the second he sees me, his mouth falls open.

“Damn, girl.” He steps fully into the room, looking me up and down with theatrical appreciation. “You look like sex on a stick.”

I burst out laughing and pull him inside, shutting the door behind him. “That is not the compliment you think it is.”

“It’s absolutely the compliment I think it is.” He grins, dropping onto the edge of my bed like he owns it. “Ricky’s going to lose his damn mind.”

“I don’t care what Ricky thinks.”

“Sure you don’t.” He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it for a second. “Come here. Sit. Let me do your makeup.”

I blink at him. “You do makeup?”

“I contain multitudes, Scarlett.” He pats the vanity chair. “Sit.”

I hand over my makeup bag with mild skepticism, but twenty minutes later, when I finally look in the mirror, I actually gasp.

He’s transformed me. The eyeshadow is smoky but not overdone, the liner sharp enough to make my eyes look sultry without veering into costume territory. My skin looks luminous, my cheekbones sculpted in a way I never manage on my own.

“Tommy, you should be a professional makeup artist.”

He laughs, but there’s a flush of pride in his cheeks. “I’m serious. Look at this.” I gesture at my own face like it’s a masterpiece. “You’re incredible.”

He ducks his head, suddenly a little shy. “I mess around with it sometimes. Videos online, that kind of thing. Never really told anyone.”

“Well, you should. This is amazing.”

He smiles at me in the mirror, and something about the moment feels tender, unguarded. Then, because he’s Tommy and can’t resist ruining a good moment, he adds, “Ricky’s going to combust.”

“Stop.”

“I’m just saying. You two have been dancing around each other since we were sixteen years old. It’s exhausting to watch.”

“There’s nothing to watch,” I say, a little too quickly, a little too firmly.

Tommy just gives me a look—the kind that says I know you’re lying and I love you anyway—and doesn’t push it further.

A loud knock rattles the door before I can respond.

“Scarlett, come on, we’re leaving!” Liam’s voice, muffled but urgent.

I stand, smoothing my dress one last time, and pull the door open.

Liam’s eyes widen at the sight of me—new hair, new makeup, the dress—but his surprise morphs into something sharper when his gaze shifts past me and lands on Tommy, still sitting on my bed.

Behind Liam, Ricky stands in the hallway.

And he’s not looking at Tommy.

He’s looking at me.

His eyes move over the dress slowly, deliberately, like he’s cataloging every inch of it—the slit, the neckline, the way the fabric hugs my waist. There’s something predatory in his expression, something hungry and unguarded, like he’s forgotten anyone else exists.

For one long, charged moment, neither of us moves.

Then Liam’s voice cuts through it. “Tommy, what the hell are you doing in my sister’s room while she’s getting dressed?”

That seems to snap Ricky out of whatever trance he’d fallen into—but not in the way I expect.

His jaw tightens. His expression darkens. And before I can even process what’s happening, he shoves past Liam and grabs Tommy by the collar, slamming him back against the wall.

“Ricky!” I shout, my heart lurching into my throat.

“What the fuck, man?” Liam’s already moving, grabbing at Ricky’s arm, trying to pull him off.

“He was in here while she was changing,” Ricky snarls, not letting go, his knuckles white against Tommy’s shirt. “And you’re just okay with that, Liam?”

“Let go of him!” I push between them, shoving at Ricky’s chest with both hands. “Ricky, stop! Right now!”

For a second, he doesn’t move. His eyes are wild, unfocused, locked on Tommy like he’s the enemy in some war only Ricky can see.

“Ricky.” My voice cracks with fury. “Let. Him. Go.”

Slowly, finally, his grip loosens. Tommy slides down slightly against the wall, catching his breath, straightening his collar with shaking hands.

“Jesus Christ,” Liam says, staring at Ricky like he’s never seen him before. “What is wrong with you?”

“He shouldn’t have been in there,” Ricky mutters, but his voice has lost its conviction.

“She’s an adult, man.” Liam’s voice is sharp, disbelieving. “She can have whoever she wants in her room.”

“Yeah,” Tommy adds, still catching his breath but managing a small, wry smile. “And also—I’m not interested in Scarlett.”

Ricky’s eyes snap to him. “Bullshit. Who wouldn’t be interested in her?”

Liam goes very still, studying Ricky with an expression somewhere between confusion and dawning realization.

“Someone who’s not interested in women,” Tommy says quietly.

The room falls silent.

Ricky blinks, his brow furrowing like he’s trying to process a sentence in a foreign language. “Wait. You’re—”

“Gay,” Tommy finishes for him, his voice steady despite the visible nerves underneath. “Yeah. I’m gay.”

For a moment, nobody says anything. Then Liam steps forward, his anger at Ricky momentarily forgotten, and pulls Tommy into a firm, brotherly hug.

“Thank you for telling us,” Liam says quietly. “Seriously, man. That takes guts.”

Tommy laughs, a little shaky, hugging him back. “I’ve been trying to find the right time. Guess Ricky manhandling me against a wall was as good a moment as any.”

“I’m sorry,” Ricky says, and for the first time since he stormed in, he sounds like himself again—quiet, a little stunned, clearly ashamed. “Tommy, I’m—I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” Tommy mutters, but he says it too quietly for anyone but me to hear, and when I glance at him, he gives me the smallest, knowing smile.

Ricky steps forward and offers his hand. Tommy takes it, shakes it, and after a beat, pulls him into an awkward, one-armed hug.

“We’re good,” Tommy says. “Just… maybe work on the whole jumping-to-conclusions thing.”

“Yeah,” Ricky says, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I will.”

But even as he says it, his eyes drift back to me. And they stay there.

---

We pile into cars a few minutes later—my parents taking Liam and Tommy, while Ricky, in a move that surprises absolutely no one except apparently himself, volunteers to drive me.

“I’ve got Scarlett,” he says, already reaching for his keys.

Tommy, walking past me toward my parents’ car, leans in and murmurs, “Have fun in that car, Scar,” with a grin so smug I want to smack him.

“Shut up,” I hiss, but he’s already laughing, climbing into the back seat.

The night air bites at my skin as I walk to Ricky’s car, my breath visible in small white clouds. He opens the passenger door for me—a gesture that feels both old-fashioned and unbearably intimate—and I slide into the seat, tucking the fabric of my dress carefully so the slit doesn’t ride up too high.

The engine rumbles to life, and warm air begins filtering through the vents, chasing away the chill. The dashboard lights cast a soft green glow across his features, and I catch the scent of his cologne—woodsy, warm, achingly familiar—filling the small space between us.

We pull out of the driveway in silence.

“So,” I say finally, unable to help myself. “Are you going to explain what that was back there?”

His hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “I already explained. I overreacted.”

“You attacked Tommy, Ricky.”

“I know.”

“Because you thought he was hitting on me.”

“I know.”

“Because you were jealous.”

His jaw ticks. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“Bullshit.” The word comes out sharper than I intend, echoing his earlier accusation of Tommy. “You were jealous, and you know it.”

“I was concerned. For Liam. For the situation.”

“Concerned for Liam,” I repeat flatly. “Right. That’s why you couldn’t take your eyes off me the second you walked in.”

He doesn’t answer. The silence stretches, tight and electric, filled only by the hum of the engine and the soft glow of passing streetlights sliding across the windshield.

“Admit it,” I press, twisting slightly in my seat to face him. “You saw me in this dress and you lost your mind.”

“Scarlett—”

“Admit it, Ricky.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his knuckles whitening slightly against the wheel. “You are driving me insane.”

The words come out low. Rough. Nothing like an admission of guilt and everything like a warning.

My breath catches.

“Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“No.” He glances at me then, just for a second, but it’s enough to make my whole body flush with heat. “It’s the truth.”

The car feels smaller suddenly. Warmer. His hand rests on the gearshift between us, close enough that I could reach out and touch it if I wanted to. I don’t. But I want to. God, I want to.

“You don’t get to be jealous,” I say, my voice quieter now, less certain. “You made it clear there’s nothing between us. Just an attraction. Just physical.”

“I know what I said.”

“Then why—”

“Because I don’t know how to turn it off,” he admits, and the rawness in his voice startles me. “I don’t know how to see you like this and not feel like I’m losing my mind.”

The dashboard lights flicker against his profile as we pass beneath a streetlamp, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. His cologne fills the space between us, warm and intoxicating, and I find myself leaning slightly closer without meaning to.

“Ricky—”

“I know I don’t have the right,” he says quietly, eyes fixed on the road, though his hand shifts closer to mine on the console. “I know I can’t ask you to wait for something I can’t give you. But God, Scarlett, when I saw him in your room, all I could think about was—”

He stops himself.

“Was what?” I whisper.

His eyes flick to mine again, darker this time, more dangerous. “Was that it should be me. That it’s always supposed to be me.”

The air between us feels charged, thick with everything neither of us is saying. His fingers brush against mine on the console—barely a touch, feather-light—and my entire body responds like he’s set it on fire.

I could lean in. I could close the distance completely. I could let this car become something else entirely.

But headlights are swinging into view ahead, and the muffled thump of Christmas music drifts faintly from Aunt Rachel’s house as we pull up along the curb, and the reality of where we are crashes back into me all at once.

Ricky puts the car in park, but neither of us moves.

“Scarlett,” he says softly.

I don’t trust myself to answer. My hand is already on the door handle.

“I have to go,” I say, and before he can respond, before I can change my mind, I push the door open and step out into the cold, my heels hitting pavement, my heart hammering so loudly I can hear it over the sound of laughter and music spilling from the house.

I don’t look back.

I can’t.

Because if I look back at him now—if I see his face, his eyes, that same dangerous hunger—I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk away at all.

The party noise wraps around me as I climb the front steps, my mind spinning, my skin still burning where his fingers brushed mine.

Something has shifted tonight. Something neither of us can take back.

And as I step through Aunt Rachel’s front door, plastering on a smile for the family waiting inside, I know with absolute certainty that this night is far from over.

**8/28/26 Updated**

Chapter 26 – Under the Christmas Lights

Aunt Rachel’s house is packed tighter than I’ve ever seen it.

Every year there’s some contingent of cousins who cancel, some aunt with a cold, some second cousin twice removed who has a “thing” they can’t get out of. Not this year. This year everyone came, and the house is bursting with noise and warmth and the smell of cinnamon and roasted turkey and someone’s overly ambitious attempt at mulled wine.

Mom and Dad beat us here—they always do, some unspoken rule that the parents arrive early to help set up while the rest of us trickle in fashionably late—and I find Mom near the dessert table, rearranging a plate of cookies that didn’t need rearranging.

“There are so many people this year,” I say, sidling up next to her.

“I know.” She surveys the room like a general counting troops. “Usually there’s a whole group of folks who can’t make it, but it looks like everyone did. Must be the snow. Makes people sentimental.”

I laugh, but I’m only half listening, because that’s when Ricky walks through the front door, and his eyes find me immediately.

Across the room. Through the crowd. Like he already knew exactly where I’d be standing.

I feel it everywhere—that same heat from the car, from his hand almost touching mine on the console, from the words he said that he immediately tried to take back. It should be me. It’s always supposed to be me.

I look away first. I have to. If I hold his gaze any longer, I’m going to do something stupid in front of forty relatives.

Aunt Rachel spots him before I can even process the moment, and she lets out this delighted little shriek that turns half the room’s heads.

“Ricky! Oh my goodness, look at you!”

She crosses the room faster than a seventy-one-year-old woman has any right to move and throws her arms around him, and I watch—delighted—as Ricky Nikodem, six-foot-two, all sharp edges and controlled intensity in a boardroom, gets folded into a hug by a woman barely five feet tall.

“Look at this face,” Aunt Rachel says, pulling back to squeeze his cheeks between her palms like he’s eight years old. “So handsome. Such a sweet boy. You’ve always been my favorite of Liam’s little friends, don’t tell the others.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Rachel,” Ricky says, and there’s something in his voice—warm, easy, a little sheepish—that I almost never hear at Nikodem. The Ricky who negotiates contracts and stares down opposing counsel does not exist in this hallway. This is a different Ricky. Softer around the edges.

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.

His eyes flick to me over Aunt Rachel’s shoulder, and something in his expression shifts—amused, caught, like he heard me and doesn’t mind that I saw this version of him.

The night moves in that particular way holiday parties do—loud in bursts, quiet in pockets, the kind of chaos that swallows individual conversations whole. I make my rounds. I hug cousins I haven’t seen in a year. I answer the same three questions about my job four separate times. I eat too much of Aunt Rachel’s green bean casserole and half a plate of sugar cookies shaped like reindeer that someone iced badly on purpose.

And through all of it, I feel Ricky’s eyes on me.

It’s not subtle. It’s not supposed to be, I think. Every time I glance up, he’s already looking—across the room while he’s talking to my uncle about football, over the rim of his cup while Liam recounts some story from college, through the gap between two of my cousins while they debate whose turn it is at the karaoke machine nobody asked for.

Every single time, the same look. Slow. Hungry. Unapologetic.

I feel my face heat each time, and I hate that I can’t control it, hate that everything about tonight is unfolding under the weight of years of history and all I can think about is the way his hand felt when it slid up my thigh three nights ago.

At one point he brushes past me reaching for a drink, and his hand grazes my lower back—barely a touch, gone as fast as it came—and I have to excuse myself to the bathroom just to breathe.

When I come back out, Liam is watching me.

Really watching me, in that older-brother way that used to just annoy me and now makes something cold settle low in my stomach. I give him my best what? face, eyebrows raised, casual as I can manage, and he looks away first, his jaw tight, something working behind his eyes that he doesn’t say out loud.

I don’t think much of it. Not until later.

Later, when I catch sight of Ricky near the hallway closet, deep in conversation with Liam, his posture stiff in a way that doesn’t match the easy version of him from an hour ago. I don’t hear what’s said. I don’t need to. I already know, in that bone-deep way you know things about people you’ve spent years learning, that Liam is asking the question everyone in this house is too polite to ask out loud, and I already know exactly how Ricky will answer it.

He’ll deflect. He’ll deny. He’ll say something careful and vague that protects him and costs me nothing to hear except everything.

That’s what he’s always done.

I don’t wait around to watch it happen. I turn and thread back through the kitchen instead, past my mother’s questioning look, past a tray of half-eaten deviled eggs, and let the noise of the party swallow whatever conversation is happening behind that closet door.

What has always been. That’s what he called it before, more than once. Physical. Convenient. Something that doesn’t require him to say anything real, not to Liam, not to his family, not even to me. I’m the one who keeps forgetting that. I’m the one who keeps mistaking heat for meaning, keeps letting the way he looks at me convince me there’s more underneath than he’s ever been willing to put into words.

When people show you who they are, believe them.

I push open the back door into the cold before I can talk myself into believing something different tonight.

---

Aunt Rachel’s backyard looks like something out of a Christmas card.

White lights are strung along the fence and wrapped around the bare branches of the two big oak trees, glowing soft and gold against the dark. A thin crust of frost has settled over the grass, catching the light like scattered glitter. The music from inside drifts out muffled through the glass door—something with sleigh bells, something cheerful and completely at odds with the tightness in my chest.

I wrap my arms around myself and immediately regret not grabbing a coat. The cold bites at my bare arms, my breath fogging in front of me, but I don’t go back in. I can’t. Not yet. Not while my chest still feels tight with something I don’t want to name, not while I’m still trying to talk myself out of caring so much about a pattern I already know by heart.

Why does it still hurt? He’s told me exactly what this is more times than I can count. He said it before Chicago. He said it after. He’s never once pretended it was anything else. I’m the one who keeps hoping, keeps letting myself believe that the way he looks at me, the way he can’t seem to stop watching me across a crowded room, means something different than what he’s willing to say out loud.

I’m still turning that thought over when something drapes over my shoulders—warm, heavy, smelling like his cologne—and I jump so hard I nearly shriek.

“Sorry, Scar.”

“Ricky.” My heart is hammering. “You scared me.”

“Clearly.” A small, careful smile tugs at his mouth. “Here. Put this on. You’re shivering.”

I look down at the coat now settled over my shoulders, his coat, still warm from his body, and something in my chest aches in a way I don’t want to examine.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask, pulling it tighter around me anyway.

“It was hot in there. Needed some air.” He steps up beside me, hands in his pockets, looking out at the lights instead of at me. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I say, too quickly. “Just needed air too.”

He’s quiet for a second, studying me in that way that makes me feel like he can see straight through the lie. I keep my eyes on the string lights instead, refusing to let him read whatever is happening on my face.

“You’ve been different tonight,” he says finally. “Quiet.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Scarlett.”

“I’m fine, Ricky.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Something flickers across his face—hurt, maybe, or guilt, I can’t tell which, and honestly I don’t have the energy to figure it out.

Inside, the song changes.

Soft piano. A familiar melody drifting out through the glass, muffled but unmistakable—All I Want Is You, the kind of song that gets played at every holiday party in America, and normally I’d roll my eyes at how on-the-nose it is.

Right now, it just feels like the universe is trying to make a point.

Ricky looks toward the door, then back at me, something shifting in his expression.

“Dance with me?”

“Really, Ricky?” I let out a short laugh, sharp with disbelief. “Out here where anyone could see?”

“I don’t care who sees us, Scarlett.”

The words land different than I expect. Steadier. Like he means them all the way through, even if some part of him looks a little frightened by his own conviction.

He reaches out and takes my hand before I can talk myself out of it, pulling me gently toward him, and I let him—God help me, I let him—even though every rational part of my brain is screaming that I should walk straight back inside.

His hand settles at my waist, warm even through the fabric of my dress, and mine finds his shoulder almost on instinct, muscle memory built from years of easy friendship now humming with something entirely different.

We start to sway, slow, unhurried, the frost crunching faintly beneath our feet.

“I know you’ve noticed I’m careful,” he says quietly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Around Liam. Around everyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“It’s not because I don’t want this.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles where our hands are joined, slow, absentminded, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “There are things you don’t know, Scarlett. Things that make this complicated in ways I can’t explain right now.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It’s not convenient. It’s terrifying.” He finally stops moving, and the porch light catches the frustration etched into his features. “Wanting you isn’t simple for me. It never has been.”

“Then make it simple,” I whisper. “Just this once.”

His jaw tightens. For a second I think he’s going to deflect, the way he always does, the way I already know he did with Liam not twenty minutes ago.

“It’s not just physical,” he says finally, and his voice cracks slightly on the words, like they cost him something to say. “I’ve been telling myself it is because that’s easier. Because physical doesn’t ask anything of me. Physical doesn’t mean I have to be scared of what it costs to lose you.”

“Ricky—”

“I’m terrified, Scarlett.” His hand slides up to cradle my jaw, tilting my face up toward his. “Of what it means to actually want this. To want you. Not just tonight. Not just when it’s convenient or when nobody’s watching.”

The lights blur slightly at the edges of my vision, and I realize, distantly, that my eyes have filled with tears.

“Then stop pretending you don’t,” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer with words.

He kisses me instead—slow, deliberate, his hand cradling my jaw like I’m something fragile and precious, and for a moment I hold myself back, waiting for the retreat, waiting for him to pull away and apologize and tell me this was a mistake the way he always does.

He doesn’t.

If anything, he pulls me closer, one hand pressing flat against my lower back, the other still holding my face like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

“I’m not hiding this,” he murmurs against my lips. “Not tonight. Not anymore.”

I reach up and touch his face, my fingers tracing along his jaw, and something in his eyes goes soft in a way I’ve never seen before.

“Scarlett,” he says, just my name, like it means something bigger than four letters, like it’s carrying the weight of years of almost and not-quite and everything he’s never let himself say.

I kiss him again, and this time I don’t hold anything back.

That’s when the back door slides open.

“Richard.”

The voice is deep, clipped, carrying an authority that cuts through the music and the cold air like a blade. I feel Ricky freeze against me before I even turn my head.

Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light spilling out from the kitchen, is a tall man in an immaculate wool coat, his expression carved from something colder than the frost on the grass.

Ricky’s father.

Ricky steps back from me instantly—not far, but enough, his body angling slightly in front of mine like some old instinct kicking in before he even has time to think about it. I watch something shift in him, fast, unmistakable—the softness from a minute ago folding itself away, replaced by something careful and contained. Obedient, almost. Like a switch flipped somewhere behind his eyes.

“Dad.” His voice comes out different. Flatter. Controlled. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Clearly.” His father’s eyes move past Ricky, landing on me, sweeping over me with an assessment so cold and precise it makes my skin prickle—like he already knows exactly who I am, and that knowledge is the problem. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Dad, this isn’t—”

“I said now, Richard.”

The way he says it isn’t a request.

Ricky glances back at me once—an apology, a warning, I can’t tell which—before he follows his father back inside, the door swinging shut behind them and leaving me standing alone in the cold, Ricky’s coat still wrapped around my shoulders, the Christmas lights glowing indifferent and bright above me.

Whatever this was supposed to be, I have a terrible feeling it just changed completely.

**9/11/26 Updated**

Chapter 27 – The Cost of Coming Home

The cold works its way through Ricky’s coat faster than it has any right to, given how big it is on me, how it should swallow every draft whole. I pull it tighter anyway, watching the door where he disappeared, half-expecting him to walk back through it and tell me this was nothing. A misunderstanding. His dad being his dad.

I should go back inside. Find Liam, find Tommy, drink something with too much cinnamon in it and let Aunt Rachel’s terrible playlist wash over me until I forget the way Ricky’s whole body changed the second his father said his name.

Richard.

Not Ricky. Not even Rick. Richard, like a verdict.

I take one step toward the house… toward the noise, the warmth, the safety of a hundred people who aren’t currently deciding my future in a hallway I’m not invited into; and that’s when I notice the kitchen door hasn’t latched. It’s cracked maybe two inches, enough for a blade of yellow light to fall across the frozen grass, enough for voices to slip out into the night like smoke.

I tell myself I’m not trying to listen. I want that on the record, even if it’s only a record I’m keeping for myself, some private ledger where I get to be the kind of person who doesn’t press herself against cold brick to overhear a conversation that isn’t hers. But my feet don’t listen to the version of me making promises. I’m walking past the door, coat clutched around me, boots crunching against the icy walkway, and Ricky’s voice reaches out and grabs me by the throat before I can stop it.

“—not going back, Dad. I already told you that.”

I freeze. My body makes the decision before my brain has time to weigh in.  flattening against the siding just beside the door, close enough to hear, far enough that if the door swings open I might have three seconds to run. My heart is doing something violent and fast, and some small, sane corner of my brain is screaming at me to move, to walk away, to let this be a thing I never heard. I don’t move.

“You don’t have a choice in the matter.” Henry’s voice is calm in a way that’s somehow worse than shouting. Measured. The voice of a man who has never once in his life had to raise it to get what he wants. “You leave tomorrow morning. Miranda’s already booked on the same flight.”

“I don’t care what Miranda’s booked on.” A beat. “I’m done with Chicago. I told you that in October.”

“And I told you October was a courtesy.” Something shifts… footsteps, maybe, the creak of old floorboards. “This isn’t a discussion, Richard.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence stretches long enough that I hold my breath without meaning to, long enough that I start counting the seconds just to have something to do with the panic climbing up my spine. When Henry speaks again, his voice has dropped… lower, tighter, a whisper sharpened into something closer to a blade than a warning.

“If you care about the girl, you’ll do this.” A pause, deliberate, cruel in its patience. “Otherwise… well. You already know.”

My heart stops behaving like a heart. It just sits there, useless, a stone lodged somewhere behind my ribs. The girl. Not my name. He won’t even give me that much, and somehow that’s worse than anything else he could have said… being reduced to a pronoun, a variable in an equation I’m not allowed to see.

“How can you be so cruel?” Ricky’s voice cracks on the word cruel, and it undoes something in me, hearing him sound like that, stripped down, young, furious and helpless, all at once. I’ve never heard him sound helpless. Not once, not in fifteen years of knowing him, not even the night his mother left, not even the day he told me we were over and his eyes looked like something had already died behind them.

“Cruel?” Henry actually laughs, a short, dry sound with no humor in it at all. “I’m being remarkably generous, considering. Now that she’s working for me, I understand your feelings for her a great deal better than I did a month ago. She’s clever. Ambitious. Presentable, in her way.” A pause, and I can hear the smile in his voice, the terrible civility of it. “She simply wasn’t born into the right family. Unfortunately.”

“Don’t.” Ricky’s voice is low now, dangerous in a way I’ve never heard from him. “Don’t talk about her like she’s a line item.”

“I’m talking about her like exactly what she is to this family, which is nothing, unless you insist on making her something. And if you insist on making her something, Richard, then she becomes my problem. And I solve problems very efficiently. You know this.”

“She’s not a problem. She’s—”

“She’s an employee,” Henry cuts in smoothly, “with a promising future, provided certain distractions don’t interfere with her judgment. Or yours. Miranda will be handling the Chicago office while you’re there. She’s very thorough. She’ll keep things running exactly as they should.”

I press my palm flat against the cold brick behind me, grounding myself, because my legs have started to feel unreliable, like the ground might not hold if I don’t hold onto something first. Somewhere behind my sternum, two feelings are wrestling for space… the small, ugly relief of finally understanding, and a grief so large I don’t know where to put it. He wanted me. He’s always wanted me. And his father has turned that wanting into a weapon, and I don’t know yet who it’s aimed at.

He’s doing this on purpose. Henry Nikodem; Ricky’s father, my boss, a man I have shaken hands with twice and smiled at across conference tables like he was just a person and not an architect of quiet devastation; is arranging the pieces of both our lives so that Ricky has no room left to choose me. My job. My promotion. My entire promising future, dangled and threatened in the same breath, like a leash disguised as a gift.

And Ricky knew. Some part of him has known this whole time, hasn’t he known exactly what his father could do, exactly what wanting me would cost, and he pushed me away in October not because he didn’t feel it but because feeling it was dangerous. Not to him. To me.

The thought lands somewhere between fury and heartbreak, and I don’t have time to sort out which one wins, because a voice calls my name from somewhere behind me, cheerful and completely oblivious to the fact that it’s about to blow my cover.

“Scarlett? You out here freezing to death, or is this a whole aesthetic you’re going for?”

Liam.

I spin around too fast, my elbow catching the side of the house with a soft thud that feels enormous in the quiet, and I see the kitchen door shift, just slightly, just enough, before I turn my back to it entirely and paste something like composure onto my face.

“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out higher than I’d like. “I was just getting air. It’s a lot in there.”

Liam raises an eyebrow, unconvinced but not suspicious, because why would he be. He’s got two mugs of something steaming in his hands, and he holds one out to me like a peace offering. “Aunt Rachel’s asking about you. Also Tommy’s doing karaoke and it is genuinely the worst rendition of ‘All I Want for Christmas’ I’ve ever heard in my life, and I need a witness so I’m not alone in this trauma.”

“I was also looking for the bathroom,” I add, the lie slipping out easily, smoothly, like I’ve been practicing it. “Got a little lost.”

“The bathroom is inside the house, Scar.” He hands me the mug anyway, steam curling up between us, and studies my face for a second too long. “You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing.”

“The thing where your face goes all blank and careful, like you’re trying really hard not to have an expression.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “You good?”

“I’m freezing and Aunt Rachel’s eggnog has, at minimum, three kinds of liquor in it. I’m fantastic.” I take a sip of whatever’s in the mug, cider, cinnamon-heavy and too sweet, and let it burn a little going down, grateful for something to do with my hands, my mouth, my face.

“I know that now.”

He laughs, slings an arm around my shoulders—Ricky’s coat crinkling under the weight of it—and steers me back toward the porch, and I let him, because the alternative is standing outside a kitchen door and letting my brother catch me eavesdropping on the worst conversation of my adult life.

“You know Tommy dedicated the song to ‘everyone who’s ever been brave,'” Liam says, clearly delighted, clearly trying to coax a real laugh out of me. “Which, considering he can’t hit a single note in that song, is either very moving or very funny, and I genuinely can’t decide which.”

“Both,” I manage. “It’s allowed to be both.”

I glance back once before we round the corner. The kitchen door has swung shut. Whatever is happening in there now, I can’t hear it anymore, and some part of me—the part still leaning toward the wall, still listening for footsteps—doesn’t want to let it go.

—

Inside, the party hasn’t paused for a second to acknowledge that my entire understanding of the last two months has just been rearranged. Tommy is, in fact, murdering Mariah Carey with the kind of enthusiasm that suggests he knows exactly how bad he sounds and has decided not to care, and half the room is filming it, and someone’s cousin is doing the whip and nae-nae in front of the fireplace like it’s still 2016.

I laugh when I’m supposed to laugh. I clap when the song ends. I let Aunt Rachel pull me into a hug that smells like eggnog and tell me my dress is stunning, absolutely stunning, green really is your color, and the whole time some other version of me is standing three feet outside my own body, replaying Henry’s voice, turning it over and over like a stone I can’t put down.

She simply wasn’t born into the right family. Unfortunately.

I spot Ricky and Henry maybe twenty minutes later, moving through the crowded living room together, and if I hadn’t just heard what I heard, I might actually believe the performance. Henry has his hand on some man’s shoulder, laughing at something, all warmth and polish, the kind of charm that costs a great deal of money to cultivate. He shakes hands like he’s bestowing something. He remembers names.. Bill, wasn’t it, and how’s the knee …in a way that makes people light up, grateful to be seen by him, and it makes my skin crawl to watch, knowing now what that attention costs the people who actually matter to him.

Ricky stands a step behind him, shaking hands when hands are offered, smiling when smiling is required, and it’s such a good performance that if I didn’t know better, I’d think nothing was wrong at all. He laughs at the right moments. He touches his father’s shoulder once, briefly, the picture of an easy, loving son, and I have to look away because I know now exactly what that touch is covering.

But I do know better. I watch the way his jaw sits, tight and controlled, the muscle working every few seconds like he’s biting down on something he wants to say. I watch his hand curl and release at his side, curl and release, a rhythm I recognize from years of watching him white-knuckle his way through things he hated. I watch his eyes find me once across the room, just once, and something flickers there, fast, gone before I can name it. Guilt, maybe. Or grief. Or the particular exhaustion of a man performing a version of himself for an audience that includes the one person he can’t lie to convincingly, even from thirty feet away.

Liam elbows me. “You good? You’ve been staring at the Nikodems like they owe you money.”

“I’m fine,” I say, and it’s the second lie I’ve told in ten minutes, and it won’t be the last tonight.

Henry finds me by the drinks table not long after, and of course he does, because apparently my night isn’t allowed to end without one more direct hit.

“Scarlett.” He says my name like he’s tasting it, testing whether it’s worth the effort. “I hope you’re enjoying the party. You’ve had quite a year, from what I understand. The promotion, especially.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It never does. “It’s rare to see someone rise so quickly without the usual advantages. You should be very proud.”

“Thank you,” I say, keeping my voice level, my chin up, refusing to give him the reaction he’s fishing for.

“Of course, the people who understand their place tend to be rewarded for it.” He says this lightly, like it’s a compliment, like it’s not a threat dressed up in a party smile. “Ambition is admirable, in moderation. It’s the people who forget their place who tend to find opportunities disappearing rather suddenly.” He tilts his head, almost fond. “I do hope you’re one of the sensible ones.”

Everyone around us would hear encouragement. I hear a leash tightening, and I think of Ricky’s voice cracking on the word cruel, and I understand, finally, exactly what he was trying to protect me from.

“I always know exactly where I stand, Mr. Nikodem,” I say, and something flickers across his face… surprise, maybe, that I didn’t flinch… before he inclines his head and moves on to charm someone else’s grandmother.

I don’t wait long after that. I find Aunt Rachel, kiss her cheek, tell her I’m exhausted, that it’s been the most wonderful night, all the things you’re supposed to say leaving a party you can’t stay inside of one more minute. I’m reaching for my purse when Ricky appears at my elbow like he’s been listening for exactly this moment.

“I’ll drive you,” he says. Not a question.

Henry, three feet away, glances over with an expression I can’t quite read… something between permission and warning, the kind of look that says I’m allowing this, and you should remember that I am.

I should say no. I should call a cab, walk home in the cold, anything that doesn’t put me alone in a car with a man who just spent the last hour lying to his own father’s face about what I mean to him, or lying to me, or maybe both. Every reasonable part of me knows that saying yes means walking straight back into whatever this is, unarmed, without a plan.

“Okay,” I say instead.

We walk out together into air so cold it burns, the Christmas lights strung along Aunt Rachel’s porch throwing gold across the snow, and Ricky’s hand hovers near my back without quite touching me, careful, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to anymore. Neither of us speaks. The snow crunches under our boots, too loud in the silence, and I can feel him beside me.. the tension coiled through his shoulders, the way his breath comes out too fast and too visible in the cold, like something in him is still back in that kitchen, still arguing, still losing.

I think about the kitchen door. About Miranda’s flight. About you already know and she wasn’t born into the right family and the particular sound of Ricky’s voice cracking on the word cruel. I think about how easily he lied to me in October, how convincingly, and how none of it was ever about not wanting me at all.

Whatever this drive turns into, I decide, walking toward his car with my heart going too fast, I am not letting him lie to me again tonight. Not about this. Not about his father. Not about what it’s costing him to want me at all.

Chapter 28 – The Drive That Stops

**Updated 9/18/26**

The car is warm, but the silence inside it is colder than the air outside. Ricky’s hands grip the steering wheel so hard his knuckles have gone white, tendons standing out like cables under the skin. He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t speak. Just drives, his jaw set, his eyes fixed on the road like if he looks away for even a second, something terrible will happen.

We pass my street five minutes ago. Then ten. The Christmas lights blur past the windows—red, green, gold—turning the snow into something that looks almost magical if you don’t know better. If you’re not sitting in a car with a man who’s being ordered back to Chicago tomorrow and won’t tell you why.

“Ricky?”

“Yeah.” His voice is flat. Careful.

“Where are we going?”

“I just want to drive.” He doesn’t look at me. “That okay?”

I swallow. “Are we going to talk?”

“No.”

The word lands between us like a door closing, and I turn my face toward the window, watching the town slide past in fragments—the diner where we used to get milkshakes after football games, the park where Tommy broke his arm falling off the swings in eighth grade, the gas station where Liam once accidentally locked his keys in his car three times in one month. Everything familiar. Everything the same. Everything completely different now that I know what Henry said, what he’s holding over Ricky’s head, what wanting me has cost him.

I feel the wetness on my hand before I realize I’m crying. Just a few tears, quiet, the kind that slip out without permission when you’re trying very hard to hold everything together and your body decides it’s done pretending. I wipe them away quickly, turning my face further toward the glass, hoping the darkness hides it.

“Why are you crying?”

Fuck. Of course he noticed.

“I’m not.”

“Scarlett—”

“I’m fine.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, defensive, and I hate that he can hear the lie in it. I hate that after fifteen years of knowing each other, I still can’t hide anything from him that matters.

The car slows. Ricky flips on his turn signal—unnecessary, given that we’re the only people on this road—and pulls off onto a narrow dirt path I recognize even in the dark. The old clearing. The place we used to come in high school when someone’s parents were out of town and we wanted to drink cheap beer and pretend we were more grown-up than we were. It’s completely empty now, buried under snow, the trees skeletal and black against the sky.

He parks and kills the engine. The silence that rushes in to fill the space is enormous.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. Then Ricky’s hand reaches across the center console, his fingers sliding along my jaw, turning my face toward him with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.

“Tell me, Scar.”

He almost whispers it. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, catching a tear I missed, and his eyes, God, his eyes, are so full of something I can’t name that I have to look away before it breaks me completely.

“It’s just been a long night.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

His hand is still on my face, his fingers trailing back into my hair now, slow and careful, like he’s memorizing the shape of me. I see his gaze drop to my mouth, just for a second, and I bite my lip without thinking, and the air between us shifts, tightens, becomes something I can feel against my skin.

“I love your hair, Scar.” His voice is low, rough, almost reverent. “It’s so wild and fiery. Not bright red but a dark ember where the fire looks about to burn out but at any moment can spark to life.”

I stare at him, my eyes widening, because I have never, not once in fifteen years, heard Ricky Nikodem talk like this. Not to me. Not to anyone. His mouth is so close, so perfect, and I can’t stand the space between us for one more second.

I lean in and kiss him hard.

It’s like an explosion. His hand tightens in my hair, pulling me closer, and I’m already reaching for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling with them, needing to feel his skin under my hands. His other hand slides down my side, over the curve of my hip, finding the slit in my dress and slipping beneath the fabric without hesitation.

“Fuck, Scarlett, you taste so fucking good.” His words come out breathy between kisses, desperate, like he’s been holding them back for years. “I can’t get enough of you.”

His fingers trail up my thigh, and I open my legs without thinking, giving him access, and he doesn’t hesitate. Two fingers slide inside me, and his thumb finds my clit, circling it with exactly the right pressure, and I moan into his mouth, my hips rocking against his hand.

“You’re so wet,” he breathes against my lips. “God, Scarlett, you’re soaked.”

He pumps his fingers into me hard, curling them just right, and the orgasm sneaks up on me so fast I don’t have time to prepare for it. It crashes over me in waves, my eyes rolling back, my head falling against the headrest as I ride it out, gasping his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his mouth on my neck, my collarbone, kissing me through it. “That’s it. Let go.”

His hand squeezes my breast over the dress, and I whimper, my body still shaking, and when I finally come back to myself enough to open my eyes, I see how hard he is, the outline of him straining against his pants, and I get even wetter just looking at him.

I kiss him again, slower this time, and then I start trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, his chest where I’ve unbuttoned his shirt. He watches me, his breathing ragged, his hand still tangled in my hair.

“Scarlett…”

“Let me,” I whisper against his skin. “Please.”

I move lower, my hands working his belt, his zipper, and he lifts his hips to help me pull his pants down just enough. When I wrap my hand around him, he groans, his head falling back against the seat.

“Fuck.”

I take him into my mouth slowly, savoring the weight of him on my tongue, the way his whole body tenses, the way his hand tightens in my hair… not controlling, just holding on, like he needs something to anchor him. I work him with my mouth and my hand, finding a rhythm, and the sounds he makes, low, desperate, almost broken, make me feel powerful in a way I’ve never felt before.

“Scarlett, Jesus” His voice is wrecked. “You’re going to… I’m not going to last if you…”

I pull back just enough to look up at him, and his eyes are dark, wild, his chest heaving. “Is this okay?” I ask, my voice rough.

“Okay?” He laughs, breathless, almost disbelieving. “Scarlett, you’re—fuck, yes, it’s okay. It’s…” He stops, swallows hard. “Are you okay? We can stop if…”

“I don’t want to stop.”

I take him back into my mouth, deeper this time, and he groans again, his hips jerking slightly, and I can feel how close he is, how hard he’s trying to hold back. But I don’t want him to hold back. I want all of him. I want to undo him completely.

When I pull away again, his eyes snap open, confused, almost pained, and I climb over the center console, awkward in the cramped space, my dress riding up—and straddle him in the driver’s seat. His hands go to my hips immediately, steadying me, and I reach between us to guide him to my entrance.

“Scarlett…” His voice is strained. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” I sink down onto him slowly, and we both gasp at the sensation—the fullness, the heat, the way we fit together like we were made for this. “God, Ricky.”

“Fuck.” His hands tighten on my hips, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

I start to move, slow at first, finding a rhythm in the cramped space, and his hands guide me, help me, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s messy and desperate and perfect. The windows are fogging up around us, the cold outside making the warmth inside feel even more intense, and I can feel every inch of him, every shift of his body, every ragged breath.

“Scarlett.” He says my name like a prayer, like a plea. “I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so fucking long.”

I ride him harder, my hands braced on his shoulders, and he meets me thrust for thrust, his hips lifting off the seat, and the angle is perfect, hitting exactly the right spot, and I can feel another orgasm building, tighter and sharper than the first.

“Ricky, I’m… “

“I know, baby. I can feel it.” His hand slides between us, his thumb finding my clit again, and that’s all it takes. I come apart around him, crying out, my nails digging into his shoulders, and he follows me over the edge a moment later, groaning my name, his whole body shuddering.

For a long moment, we just stay like that… tangled together, breathing hard, the windows completely fogged now, the world outside invisible. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and I bury my face in his neck, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against my chest.

“Scarlett,” he whispers, and there’s something in his voice… something raw and vulnerable, that makes me pull back to look at him.

His eyes are soft, almost scared. “I…”

“I know,” I say, because I do. I can see it in his face, in the way he’s looking at me like I’m something precious and terrifying all at once.

We separate slowly, carefully, and the loss of him feels almost physical. I climb back into the passenger seat, adjusting my dress, and he pulls his pants back up, his movements mechanical, like he’s not quite back in his body yet. The silence that settles over us now is different from before; heavier, weighted with everything we just did and everything we still haven’t said.

I should ask him. I should ask about Chicago, about Miranda, about what his father is holding over him. But I’m afraid. Afraid that the answer will change this, will take away the last few minutes and replace them with something I can’t fix.

Ricky runs a hand through his hair, staring out the windshield at nothing. “I wanted to protect you,” he says finally, his voice quiet. “That’s why I… in October, when I ended things. I thought if I pushed you away, if I made you think I didn’t care, he wouldn’t… ” He stops, his jaw working. “Wanting you gave him something he could use.”

My chest tightens. “So you lied to me.”

“Yes.”

“You made me think you didn’t want me.”

“Yes.” He turns to look at me, and his eyes are full of regret. “I’m sorry. I thought… I thought it was the right thing. I thought I was keeping you safe.”

“By lying to me?” My voice is sharper now, anger cutting through the tenderness. “By deciding for me what risks I’m allowed to take?”

“Scarlett…”

“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to do that, Ricky. You don’t get to protect me by treating me like I’m too fragile to handle the truth. I’m not a child. I’m not something you need to shield from your father.”

“He’ll destroy you.” The words come out harsh, desperate. “He’ll take your job, your reputation, everything you’ve worked for. He told me…he made it very clear what would happen if I didn’t…”

“If you didn’t what? Go back to Chicago? Take Miranda with you?” I watch his face, and the way he flinches tells me I’m right. “I heard him, Ricky. I heard what he said to you in the kitchen.”

He goes very still. “You heard.”

“Enough.” I swallow hard. “Enough to know that you’re leaving tomorrow because of me. Because he’s using me to control you.”

“Then you understand why I can’t…” He stops, his hands gripping the steering wheel again. “I can’t let him hurt you, Scarlett. I won’t.”

“So you’re just going to leave? Go back to Chicago and let him win?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” My voice breaks on the words. “You’re choosing him over me. Over us.”

“I’m choosing to keep you safe.”

“I don’t want to be safe!” The words come out louder than I mean them to, echoing in the small space. “I want you. I want the truth. I want you to stop deciding what I can handle and let me make my own choices.”

He looks at me, and for a moment I think he’s going to argue, going to tell me again that he’s doing this for my own good. But then his expression crumbles, and he reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.

“I love you,” he says, and his voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear it. “I’ve loved you for years. Since we were kids, probably. And that’s why I can’t… I can’t let him use that against you. I can’t let loving me ruin your life.”

Tears blur my vision. “Ricky…”

“I have to go to Chicago tomorrow.” He squeezes my hand. “I have to. But when I come back… if you’ll still…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, because headlights cut through the darkness, sweeping across the clearing, and we both freeze. A car is pulling in—slowly, carefully, like whoever’s driving knows exactly where they’re going.

Ricky’s phone lights up on the dashboard, buzzing insistently, and I see the name on the screen before he can grab it.

Henry Nikodem.

The message preview is short, brutal: I trust you’re saying goodbye properly. Flight leaves at 8 AM.

Ricky stares at the phone, his jaw tight, and then he looks at me, and I see it in his eyes—the resignation, the defeat, the knowledge that tonight changed everything between us but didn’t free us from his father’s control at all.

The headlights sweep past, the car continuing down the road, and we’re alone again in the dark. But the moment is broken. Reality has found us, and there’s no pretending anymore.

“I should take you home,” Ricky says, and his voice is hollow.

I nod, because what else can I do? I can’t make him stay. I can’t fight his father for him. I can only sit here in this car, wearing his coat, tasting him on my lips, and watch him choose to leave me again.

He starts the engine, and we drive back toward town in silence, and I think about how many times a heart can break before it stops trying to put itself back together.

I think I’m about to find out.

**Updated 9/25/26**

Chapter 29 – Before Eight

The headlights cut across my parents’ darkened driveway, throwing long, stark shadows against the garage doors before Ricky turns them off. The engine dies, and the silence returns with the weight of a stone dropped into deep water.

Outside, the neighborhood is asleep. Christmas lights still twinkle on the porches down the street, red and green bulbs glowing under soft caps of fresh snow. It looks like a postcard. It looks like a world where nothing terrible ever happens, where families sleep peacefully in warm beds and nobody spends their night being bought, sold, or threatened by Henry Nikodem.

I look down at my lap. My hands are buried in the pockets of Ricky’s heavy wool overcoat. It smells like him, cedar and cold air and the faint trace of whatever cologne he sprayed before walking into Aunt Rachel’s house hours ago. It is broad in the shoulders, swallowing me whole, the hem pooling around my knees.

“You should keep it,” Ricky says quietly, his hands resting loose on the steering wheel. “It’s freezing out.”

“I don’t need your coat, Ricky.”

“Scarlett, please.” The fatigue in his voice is thick, worn down to the bone. “Just take it inside.”

I turn to look at him. His silhouette is sharp against the pale glow of the streetlamp behind the car. His hair is still mussed from where my fingers gripped it in the clearing. His collar is slightly open, the top two buttons undone, his jaw tight and shadowed. We look like two people who just wrecked each other in the front seat of a car, because that is exactly what we did. But the warmth of what happened between us is already evaporating in the cold draft seeping through the windows.

“What time is your flight?” I ask, though I already know. The number from Henry’s text is burned into the back of my eyelids.

“Eight o’clock.”

“And you’re going.”

Ricky closes his eyes. He leans his head back against the headrest, breathing out a slow, ragged breath that fogs up the driver’s side glass. “I have to. You know what he’s like. You heard him in that kitchen, Scar. He wasn’t bluffing.”

“He’s using my job,” I say, my voice steady even as my stomach burns. “He’s using the paralegal offer he gave me to force you onto an airplane with Miranda. And you’re just letting him.”

“I’m keeping him from destroying you before your career even starts.” Ricky turns his head to face me, his dark eyes searching mine in the dim light. “He can pull that offer with one phone call. He can make sure no reputable firm within fifty miles touches your résumé. He has the money, he has the connections, and he doesn’t care who gets crushed. If I stay, he punishes you. I can’t live with that.”

“So you punish me instead.”

Ricky flinches. The word lands between us like a slap.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he says, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

“It is exactly what you’re doing. You’re deciding for me. Just like you did in October, when you walked away and pretended you didn’t feel anything. You thought you were being noble, Ricky, but you were just lying to my face. You took away my choice because you thought I was too weak to handle the truth.”

“I was trying to keep you safe!”

“I don’t want you to keep me safe by turning me into a secret you have to apologize for.” I reach for the door handle, my fingers curling around the cold plastic. “If you get on that plane with Miranda tomorrow morning, don’t tell yourself you did it for me. You’re doing it because your father told you to jump, and you haven’t figured out how to tell him no.”

Ricky grabs my arm. His grip is not rough, but it is desperate, his fingers pressing into the heavy wool of his coat. “Scarlett, wait. Don’t leave like this.”

“Like what?” Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, hot and humiliating, but I refuse to let them spill over. “We spent months avoiding each other. Then you told me you loved me in a snowy clearing, and five minutes later your father pulled your leash. What else is there to say?”

“I’ll call you,” he insists, leaning toward me across the console, his thumb brushing against my wrist where my sleeve has ridden up. “As soon as I land in Chicago. As soon as I figure out how to handle him. I swear to you, Scarlett. This isn’t over.”

I look at his hand on my wrist. For fifteen years, this boy has been the center of every room I walked into. I know the rhythm of his laugh, the way he holds his temper until he snaps, the exact way he looks when he wants something he thinks he can’t have. Tonight I felt his hands on my skin, his mouth against mine, the absolute desperate honesty of him coming apart in my arms.

And yet, here we are. Parked in my driveway, with his father holding all the cards.

“I don’t trust promises made in the dark, Ricky,” I tell him softly. “I really don’t.”

I pull my arm gently from his grasp. He doesn’t fight me on it, but the look on his face as his fingers fall away makes my chest ache so violently that I have to swallow hard just to catch my breath.

I push open the car door. The winter air hits me like ice water, cutting through the thin silk of my dress and stinging my bare legs. I step out into the snow, pulling his oversized coat tight around my chest, and shut the door behind me.

I don’t look back as I walk up the front path. I hear the quiet rumble of his engine idling at the curb, waiting until my key turns in the lock, waiting to make sure I get safely inside the fortress of my childhood home.

The front door clicks open, and I slip inside.

The warmth of the house greets me with the familiar smells of cinnamon, pine needles, and my mother’s sugar cookies. The hallway is pitch dark except for the small orange nightlight plugged into the baseboard near the coat rack. I ease the front door shut, holding the handle with both hands so the latch doesn’t make a sound.

Click.

I stand there in the dark entryway, holding my breath, listening for any sign of movement upstairs.

Nothing. Just the low, steady hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. It is three in the morning. Everyone is asleep.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing my back against the solid wood of the front door. My heart is racing so fast I can feel it in my teeth. My body still carries the phantom weight of Ricky against me, the memory of his hands on my hips, the raw, aching reality of his mouth. Underneath his wool coat, my dress is wrinkled, my tights are shoved into the pocket of my purse, and my skin feels hypersensitive, electric, like a live wire left out in the rain.

I slip off my heels, holding them by the straps, and pad silently up the carpeted stairs in my bare feet.

Every creak of the floorboards makes me freeze. When I reach the top landing, I glance toward Liam’s bedroom. His door is halfway open. I can hear his slow, rhythmic snoring from inside, deep and untroubled.

Liam has no idea.

He was in that kitchen at Aunt Rachel’s house hours ago, joking about eggnog, entirely oblivious to the fact that Henry Nikodem was cornering his best friend ten feet away. He doesn’t know that Ricky and I have been crossing lines since the summer. He doesn’t know about October, doesn’t know about tonight, doesn’t know that Ricky’s father is holding my paralegal career hostage like a loaded gun.

Liam loves Ricky like a brother. If he found out what was happening, if he knew Henry was threatening me to control Ricky, Liam would lose his mind. He would confront Ricky, he would confront Henry, and he would burn every bridge in this town to the ground without thinking about the collateral damage.

I can’t let that happen. Not yet.

I slip into my bedroom and close the door, turning the little brass lock with a soft click.

Only when I am safely inside my own room do I finally let my shoulders drop. I sink down onto the edge of my bed, my head in my hands, and let out the sob I’ve been choking back for the last twenty minutes.

It hits me in a sudden, suffocating wave. The sheer absurdity of it all. I spent weeks praying for that job at Nikodem. I cried happy tears on my living room floor when they offered it to me. I thought it was the start of my real life. And now I find out I only have it because Henry Nikodem wanted a convenient way to keep a collar on his son.

If you care about the girl, you’ll do this.

Henry’s voice echoes in my head, cold and precise, stripping away every ounce of pride I had in my own accomplishments. He didn’t hire me because I was smart. He hired me because I was leverage.

I stand up, peeling Ricky’s heavy coat off my shoulders. I should throw it in the corner. I should hide it in the back of my closet so nobody asks questions. But as I hold it in my hands, feeling the thick, expensive wool, I find myself pressing my face into the collar for one brief, stupid second, inhaling the scent of him before I hang it neatly on the back of my bedroom door.

I strip out of the party dress, wash the makeup from my face with freezing water in the attached bathroom, and scrub at my skin until it is red. I look in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, my lips swollen and bruised from Ricky’s mouth. I look like a woman who has been thoroughly loved and utterly discarded in the span of three hours.

I crawl into bed under the heavy comforter, but sleep doesn’t come.

I watch the red numbers on my digital alarm clock flip forward, minute by agonizing minute.

4:12 AM.
4:48 AM.
5:35 AM.

Every passing minute feels like a countdown. Eight o’clock is coming. The airport in the next town is only a twenty-five-minute drive from here. If Ricky gets on that plane with Miranda, he is giving his father permission to own him forever. And he is doing it under the delusion that he is saving me.

At 6:15 AM, the pale, gray light of a winter dawn begins to seep around the edges of my window blinds.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand. My fingers are trembling slightly as I unlock the screen. There are no messages from Ricky. Just the awful, ticking silence of a man packing his bags.

I open my contacts and find the one person who knows the whole truth.

Tommy, I text. Are you awake?

I stare at the screen, expecting to wait hours. But three little gray dots appear almost instantly.

Always. What’s wrong?

I need to talk to you. Privately. Are you at your parents’ place?

Yeah. Give me ten minutes. I’ll walk over.

I throw off the covers, my heart thumping against my ribs. I pull on a pair of thick gray sweatpants and an oversized knit sweater, running a brush through my wild, tangled red hair to look somewhat human. I check the hallway before creeping back down the stairs.

The house is still quiet, but the light in the kitchen is on.

My heart jumps into my throat. I freeze on the bottom step, peeking around the corner into the kitchen.

Liam is standing by the counter in gray flannel pajama pants, holding a mug under the coffee maker while it drips. His hair is sticking up in three different directions, and he looks half-asleep, blinking lazily at the kitchen clock.

“You’re up early,” he mumbles without turning around, his voice rough with sleep.

I take a steadying breath, stepping into the kitchen and trying to look like someone whose entire world didn’t just collapse. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Liam turns, holding his coffee mug, and looks at me. His brow furrows as his eyes sweep over my face. “Jesus, Scar. You look like you got hit by a snowplow.”

“Thanks. Always love your morning compliments.”

“No, seriously.” He steps closer, leaning against the counter, studying my dark circles with genuine brotherly concern. “You okay? You were acting weird at Rachel’s last night. You disappeared with Ricky and never came back inside.”

My pulse spikes, but I keep my face carefully blank. “Ricky gave me a ride home. My head was pounding, and the music in Rachel’s living room was making it worse. I just wanted to sleep.”

“Did you take something for it?”

“Yeah. Just an off night, I guess.”

Liam nods, totally satisfied with the lie. He takes a sip of his coffee and yawns so wide his jaw clicks. “Well, you missed Aunt Rachel trying to force Tommy to eat fruitcake at midnight. Pretty sure he hid a slice inside a decorative napkin and threw it behind the radiator.”

A faint, genuine smile touches my lips despite everything. “Sounds like Tommy.”

The soft chime of the front doorbell interrupts us. Liam frowns, glancing toward the hallway. “Who the hell is ringing the bell at six-thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve?”

“It’s Tommy,” I say quickly, moving past him toward the entryway. “He texted me earlier. We said we’d take a walk before the rest of the neighborhood woke up.”

Liam snorts. “You two are psychopaths. It’s twenty degrees outside.” He turns back to the stove. “Tell him there’s coffee if he doesn’t want his fingers to freeze off.”

“Will do,” I call back, opening the front door before Tommy can ring the bell a second time.

Tommy is standing on the porch, wrapped in a thick olive-green parka with a wool beanie pulled low over his ears. His breath comes out in white puffs, his sharp blue eyes taking in my face instantly. He doesn’t say a word out loud. He just steps inside, shaking the snow off his boots onto the mat.

“Liam’s in the kitchen making coffee,” I whisper under my breath as I close the door. “We can’t talk here.”

“My car’s running,” Tommy whispers back, nodding toward the driveway where his old Subaru is idling at the curb, exhaust swirling in the freezing air. “Put some boots on.”

I grab my winter boots from the closet and slip my feet into them, not even bothering with socks. As I reach for a coat on the hooks, Tommy’s eyes flick to the stairs, where Ricky’s dark wool overcoat is hanging from the banister post where I left it on my way down.

Tommy looks at the coat, then looks at me, his eyebrows raising slightly. He recognizes it. Of course he does.

“I’ll tell Liam we’re grabbing breakfast sandwiches,” Tommy says loudly enough for my brother to hear from the kitchen.

“Cool,” Liam yells back from the stove. “Get me a bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll!”

“You got it, buddy,” Tommy calls out, opening the front door and ushering me out into the cold morning light.

We hurry down the driveway and climb into Tommy’s car. The blast of hot air from the dashboard vents is an immediate relief, thawing my frozen cheeks as Tommy puts the car in drive and rolls slowly down the street, away from my house and out of earshot.

He drives two blocks in complete silence before pulling into the empty parking lot of the community park. He parks under the bare branches of a massive oak tree, turns off the radio, and turns in his seat to face me.

“Okay,” Tommy says, his tone calm, steady, and completely serious. “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

And so I do.

The words come spilling out of me like water breaking through a dam. I tell him about the kitchen at Aunt Rachel’s house, about overhearing Henry telling Ricky he had to go to Chicago with Miranda. I tell him about Henry’s threat, how he explicitly mentioned my new paralegal position at his firm, how he made it clear that if Ricky didn’t obey, my career would be over before it started.

I tell him about Ricky driving me out to the old clearing. I tell him about the things Ricky said, about his confession that he loved me, about the desperate, beautiful, ruinous mistake of what we did in that car. And I tell him about the text message from Henry that ended it all.

Flight leaves at 8 AM.

When I finally stop talking, my throat is raw and my hands are trembling in my lap.

Tommy doesn’t interrupt. He just sits there, his hands resting on the steering wheel, his jaw set in a hard, angry line that I rarely see on him.

“That miserable, controlling bastard,” Tommy mutters under his breath, his knuckles whitening against the leather.

“Which one?” I ask, letting out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Henry or Ricky?”

“Henry,” Tommy says immediately, looking at me with fierce loyalty. “Henry Nikodem is a bully who treats his family like assets on a balance sheet. But Ricky…” Tommy sighs, running a hand over his face. “Ricky is being an idiot.”

“He thinks he’s saving me,” I whisper, looking out the frost-covered window at the empty swing set in the snow. “He thinks if he sacrifices himself and goes to Chicago with Miranda, he’s keeping me safe from his dad.”

“Yeah, and in the process, he’s letting his father run his life and yours,” Tommy says bluntly. He leans closer, catching my eye. “Scarlett, listen to me. Ricky loves you. I’ve known both of you since we were eight years old, and I have never seen that guy look at anyone the way he looks at you. But he’s terrified of his dad. He has spent his whole life watching Henry destroy people who don’t fall in line, and he genuinely believes he’s taking the bullet for you.”

“I didn’t ask him to take a bullet for me!” My voice cracks, the anger flaring hot in my chest. “I don’t want to work for a firm that treats me like a pawn anyway. I don’t care about the Nikodem job if it means Ricky has to be miserable in Chicago with Miranda just so Henry doesn’t pull my offer. That’s not protection, Tommy. That’s a cage.”

Tommy nods slowly. “You’re right. It is.”

“So what do I do?” I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. “Do I just let him board that plane? Do I just sit on my parents’ couch and pretend everything is fine while he leaves?”

“What do you want to do, Scar?” Tommy asks gently.

I lower my hands. I look at the digital clock on Tommy’s dashboard.

7:08 AM.

Fifty-two minutes until the flight departs.

“I want him to look me in the eye and tell me he’s making his own choice,” I say, the certainty rising inside me, pushing aside the fear and the exhaustion. “If he wants to go to Chicago because he’s afraid of his father, that’s his decision. But I will not let him board that plane thinking he is doing it for my sake. I will not be the excuse he uses to surrender.”

Tommy looks at me for three long seconds. Then a small, determined grin breaks across his face.

“Alright then,” Tommy says, shifting the car into gear and pulling back onto the road. “Let’s go to the airport.”

“Wait,” I say, panic flaring for a second. “What about Liam’s breakfast sandwich?”

“We’ll buy him a stale croissant from the terminal Starbucks,” Tommy replies, hitting the gas as we turn onto the highway on-ramp. “He won’t know the difference.”

The drive to the regional airport is twenty minutes of sheer tension. The highway is mostly empty, the morning sun rising in a pale gold band along the horizon, reflecting off the frozen fields on either side of the road. Tommy drives fast, his eyes locked on the asphalt, weaving smoothly around the occasional salt truck.

My phone buzzes in my lap at 7:22 AM.

I snatch it up. It’s a text from Ricky.

I’m at the airport. I’m sorry, Scar. I really am. I’ll call you tonight.

My fingers fly across the keypad, but I stop myself before typing a single word. Texting him won’t fix this. A text message gives him an easy out, a way to hide behind a screen and pretend he’s doing the noble thing. If this is where we end, he is going to have to say it to my face.

“Don’t reply,” Tommy says, glancing sideways at my screen. “Just wait until we get there.”

“I’m not replying,” I say, locking the phone and shoving it into my sweater pocket.

At 7:38 AM, Tommy pulls up to the departures curb of the small regional terminal. Two lanes of cars are dropping off passengers with luggage, their breath pluming in the crisp air.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Tommy asks, unlocking the doors.

I look at him. His face is full of nothing but steady, unconditional support. The kind of friendship that doesn’t ask for explanations or make demands.

“No,” I say softly. “If Liam finds out, he finds out from me. But you can’t be in the middle of Henry’s crosshairs too.”

“I don’t give a damn about Henry Nikodem,” Tommy says with a quiet laugh. “But I know this is between you and Ricky. Go. I’ll circle the loop and wait for you.”

“Thank you, Tommy.”

“Go get him, Scar.”

I push the car door open and step out onto the slushy sidewalk.

The terminal doors slide open with a hiss, swallowing me into the bright, overheated air of the airport. It smells like burnt espresso, industrial floor wax, and dry winter heating. The main hall is relatively small, with two airline check-in counters on the left and a single security checkpoint straight ahead.

I scan the room, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

At this hour on Christmas Eve, there are only a handful of travelers scattered around the ticket desks. Families with ski gear, business travelers with rolling garment bags, elderly couples clutching boarding passes.

And then I see them.

Near the entrance to the security line, standing off to the side by the large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the tarmac, are three people.

Miranda is standing there in an impeccably tailored camel coat, holding a leather designer tote bag, looking at her phone with an air of detached boredom. Beside her are two matching black suitcases.

Ricky is standing two feet away from her, wearing a dark sweater and jeans, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His posture is stiff, his face pale and drawn, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

And standing directly in front of Ricky, dominating the space between them like an immovable wall of stone, is Henry Nikodem.

Henry is wearing his charcoal overcoat, unbuttoned, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. Even from forty feet away, his presence radiates complete authority. He is leaning in slightly, saying something to Ricky in that low, measured, boardroom tone that brook no argument.

Ricky is staring at the floor, his shoulders tense, looking like a man being led to an execution.

I don’t stop to think. I don’t let myself calculate the risks, or consider the fact that Henry signs my paycheck, or remember that my entire professional future might depend on the man standing by that security rope.

I start walking.

My boots click sharply against the polished linoleum floor, cutting through the low murmur of the terminal.

Miranda notices me first. Her eyes flick up from her phone, scanning my messy red hair, my oversized sweater, and my sweatpants with sudden, sharp recognition. Her eyebrows pull together in faint confusion.

Then Ricky looks up.

The moment his eyes hit mine, all the color drains from his face. He completely freezes. His mouth opens slightly, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated shock, followed instantly by a wave of sheer terror.

“Scarlett?” he breathes, loud enough for his voice to carry across the empty space between us.

Henry turns slowly.

He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t look surprised. He simply turns his head, his cold, gray eyes finding mine with the calculated precision of a predator who has just spotted an animal walking directly into his trap.

The three of them stand there, frozen by the security line, watching me close the distance between us.

I stop five feet away from them. I don’t look at Miranda. I don’t look at Ricky, though I can feel his panicked gaze burning into the side of my face.

I look directly at Henry Nikodem.

Henry offers a small, thin smile that doesn’t reach his eyes at all. It is smooth, polished, and utterly devoid of warmth.

“Well,” Henry says, his voice dripping with polite, dangerous venom. “Scarlett. What a surprise to see our newest paralegal out so early on a holiday morning. Did you come all this way to see my son off?”

I lift my chin, my hands steady in my pockets, refusing to look away.

“No, Mr. Nikodem,” I say clearly, my voice carrying across the quiet terminal. “I didn’t come to see him off.”

**Updated 10/2/26**

Chapter 30 – The Choice

The words hang in the space between us, cold and solid as the frost clinging to the outside of the terminal glass.

Henry Nikodem does not flinch. He stands with his shoulders squared inside his tailored charcoal overcoat, his leather gloves held loosely in his left hand. The low hum of the airport surrounds us: the mechanical chime of a distant announcement, the squeak of rolling luggage wheels over salt-stained tile, the dull murmur of passengers checking baggage tags at the American Airlines counter thirty feet away.

“Is that so?” Henry asks. His tone is smooth, almost conversational, the exact voice he uses when dictating a memorandum to an associate who has failed to cite a precedent. “Because from where I am standing, Scarlett, it looks very much like you ran out of the house in your pajamas to stage a scene in a public concourse. That does not strike me as the sort of judgment we look for in our incoming staff.”

“Dad, stop,” Ricky says.

The sound of Ricky’s voice is raw, like someone dragged a rasp across his vocal cords. He takes a half-step forward, his duffel bag shifting on his shoulder, his eyes darting frantically between me and his father. He looks like he hasn’t slept a second since he dropped me off in my driveway. The dark circles under his eyes are bruised purples and grays, his skin pale under the yellow wash of the fluorescent ceiling fixtures.

“Scarlett, what are you doing here?” Ricky asks me, his voice dropping into a tense, desperate whisper. “You need to go home. Right now.”

“I am not going home, Ricky,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on Henry. “And I am not having this conversation through text messages or polite family lies.”

Henry lets out a soft, dry chuckle. It is completely devoid of humor. He tilts his head slightly, studying me the way an appraiser studies a crack in a foundation.

“You have courage, Scarlett. I will give you that,” Henry says, stepping just half an inch closer, lowering his voice so it carries only to the four of us. “Your father always had a stubborn streak too, though in his case it never amounted to much beyond a second mortgage and a modest retirement account. But courage without leverage is just poor judgment. You were offered a provisional paralegal position at Nikodem. It is conditional upon a standard background verification and character reference check that crosses my desk on Monday morning. One signature approves your placement. One lack of signature sends your file to the archive room, along with an explanatory note to the regional bar association regarding unprofessional conduct during the pre-employment period.”

The threat is delivered with absolute precision. No shouting. No ugly snarl. Just the quiet mechanics of corporate power, laid out like a contract across a conference table.

Beside Ricky, Miranda shifts her weight from one heeled leather boot to the other.

She has remained completely silent until now, her designer tote bag resting on the extended handle of her black carry-on. Her makeup is flawless, her blonde pulled back into a sleek, low ponytail, but her expression is no longer detached. Her eyebrows are drawn tight, her eyes darting from Henry to Ricky, then settling on me. There is an uncomfortable tightness around her mouth, the look of someone who thought she was traveling on a legitimate corporate assignment and is only now realizing she is being used as a prop in a family hostage negotiation.

“Henry,” Miranda says quietly, her voice measured and cool. “If there is an administrative matter regarding the firm, perhaps we shouldn’t handle it in the middle of the terminal while people are boarding.”

Henry doesn’t look at her. “Thank you, Miranda. I am handling it.”

“No,” I say, stepping forward until I am standing directly in Henry’s line of sight. “You aren’t handling anything, Mr. Nikodem. You are trying to buy my silence, and you are using my livelihood as a weapon to make your son do what you want.”

“Scarlett, please,” Ricky pleads, reaching out to grab my upper arm. His fingers dig through the thick wool of my sweater, his grip tight, almost trembling. “Don’t do this. You don’t know what he can do. You have no idea how deep this goes. Just walk out to your car. Let me handle Chicago.”

I turn to Ricky, pulling my arm out of his grasp with deliberate slowness.

“Look at me,” I demand.

Ricky looks. His eyes are wide, dark, and filled with a kind of agonizing panic that makes my throat tighten painfully.

“Did you want to go to Chicago?” I ask him.

“Scarlett—”

“Answer the question, Ricky. Did you want to get on that plane today?”

“That doesn’t matter,” he says, his jaw working as he clenches his teeth. “What matters is keeping you safe. What matters is making sure you have the job you worked four years for. If I go, he leaves you alone. That was the deal.”

“There is no deal,” I tell him, my voice steady despite the adrenaline vibrating in my chest. “Because you don’t own my career, Ricky. And neither does he. If I lose that job today, I will survive. I will apply somewhere else. I will waitress, I will temp, I will work seventy hours a week if I have to. But I will not spend the next ten years knowing that the only reason I sit at a desk in that building is because you agreed to let your father put a leash around your neck.”

Henry’s expression hardens, the thin veneer of polite amusement finally cracking.

“You are very young, Scarlett,” Henry says, his voice dropping into a cold, flat register that cuts through the terminal noise like a razor. “And you have the romantic notion that independence comes without a cost. Let me clarify the arithmetic for you. If Ricky does not board that plane at eight o’clock, he is formally resigning his vice presidency at the investment group. His access to the family trust is suspended pending board review. The apartment in Lincoln Park is leased under corporate holding, which will be terminated on the thirty-first. And you, Scarlett, will find that the legal community in this state is remarkably small. People talk over lunch. Partners ask questions. And certain names simply do not clear hiring committees.”

Every word lands like a physical blow against my ribs. I feel the blood rush to my ears, hot and loud.

It is real. Everything Ricky feared, everything he tried to carry alone in the dark of that car last night, is right here on the polished floor of this airport. Henry isn’t just threatening a temporary setback; he is offering total financial and professional destruction to anyone who steps out of line.

“Is that all?” I ask Henry.

Henry blinks once, surprised by the question.

“I asked if that was all,” I repeat, stepping closer to him until I can smell the expensive cedar aftershave on his collar. “Because if that is the full extent of your power, Mr. Nikodem, it is pathetic. You have all that money, all those titles, and the only way you can keep your son in the same room as you is to threaten his friends.”

“Scarlett,” Ricky whispers, his breath hitching.

Henry’s jaw tightens, a single muscle twitching beneath his smooth, clean-shaven cheek. “You are making a terrible mistake.”

“No,” I say, looking him dead in the eye. “I am making a decision. My career belongs to me. If you pull that offer, pull it. Write whatever note you want in my file. But you will never, ever use me to control him again.”

I turn away from Henry completely, ignoring the venomous stillness that settles over him, and look at Ricky.

“Come here,” I say.

Ricky doesn’t hesitate. He leaves his duffel bag sitting on the floor beside the blue stanchion rope and follows me six paces away, over toward the wide row of empty black vinyl seats near the plate-glass windows.

Outside on the tarmac, a yellow service truck is spraying de-icing fluid onto the wings of a regional jet. The sky is a pale, milky gray, heavy with the promise of more snow later in the day. The reflections of the airport lights shimmer faintly against the cold glass.

Ricky stands in front of me, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. He looks down at me, his hands hanging loose at his sides, his fingers twitching as if he wants to reach for me but doesn’t trust himself to touch me without breaking down.

“Why did you come here, Scar?” he asks, his voice barely louder than the hum of the heating vent above our heads. “Why didn’t you just stay home?”

“Because you were going to leave,” I tell him. “You were going to get on that plane with Miranda, sit in first class for two hours, and tell yourself that you did something noble. You were going to spend the rest of your life playing the martyr, thinking you sacrificed your happiness to protect mine.”

“I was protecting you!”

“You were hiding, Ricky.”

He flinches, turning his face toward the window. The gray morning light catches the sharp angle of his jaw, the dark stubble along his throat, the deep, exhausted lines around his mouth.

“You don’t understand what he’s like,” Ricky says, staring out at the tarmac where luggage carts are driving across the slush. “You’ve only ever seen the outside. You see the money, the house, the firm. You don’t know what it was like growing up in that house. Every grade, every friend, every girl I ever looked at, he audited like a balance sheet. When I tried to leave for Chicago three years ago, he bought into the firm I was applying to just so he could sit on the compensation committee. He doesn’t let go of things, Scarlett. He destroys them so nobody else can have them.”

“I know that,” I say softly. “I heard him last night.”

Ricky looks back at me, his dark eyes shining with unshed tears that he refuses to let fall. “Then why are you standing here telling him to burn your life down?”

“Because my life isn’t a paralegal desk at Nikodem Law, Ricky!” I reach out, taking his cold, bare hands into mine. His fingers wrap around mine instantly, gripping so tight it almost hurts, anchoring himself to me like a drowning man grabbing a rope. “My life is mine. I worked for my degree. I worked for my grades. If Henry takes that job away, it will hurt. It will set me back. I might have to spend six months working as a receptionist or filing papers for a solo practitioner in the next county. But nobody can take away what I know how to do. And I will not let you throw away who you are just to save me from a minor inconvenience.”

“It’s not a minor inconvenience, Scar. It’s your future.”

“And what is this?” I press his hands against the front of my sweater, directly over my racing heart. “What happened in that car last night? What was that?”

Ricky closes his eyes, a shudder running through his broad shoulders. “You know what it was.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“It was everything,” he whispers, his voice cracking on the word. He opens his eyes, looking down at me with an intensity so fierce it steals the air straight out of my lungs. “I’ve loved you since we were seven years old, Scarlett. I loved you when you were dating other guys in college, I loved you when we were sitting on your parents’ porch talking about nothing, and I loved you every single second I was pretending you were just Liam’s little sister. When I touched you last night, when I was inside you, I knew I was never going to be able to go back to pretending. It broke whatever was left of my self-control. And the thought of my dad ruining your life because of me, because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, it made me sick. It made me feel like poison.”

“You aren’t poison, Ricky,” I say, my own voice trembling as a tear finally spills over my lower lash line and tracks down my cheek. “You’re just scared.”

“I am scared,” he admits, not looking away, not trying to hide behind his usual sarcastic smirk or easy charm. “I am terrified of losing everything I’ve spent twenty-eight years building. I’m terrified of what happens when the checks stop clearing and my name doesn’t mean anything in the city. But I’m more terrified of waking up five years from now, married to some girl my dad approved of, realizing I let the only thing that ever mattered to me walk away because I was too cowardly to stand in front of him.”

“Then don’t,” I tell him. “Don’t let him do it.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the public address speaker overhead crackles to life, the female automated voice loud and crisp through the concourse. “Flight 442 with service to Chicago O’Hare is now beginning general boarding at Gate 3. All passengers in Group 1, including First Class and priority travelers, may now proceed through the security checkpoint.”

The announcement cuts through the quiet terminal like a starting gun.

Behind us, Henry checks his platinum wristwatch, his face impassive. He looks up, catching Ricky’s eye across the seating area, and lifts two fingers in a silent, commanding gesture toward the security line.

Miranda picks up her leather tote bag. She looks at Ricky, then glances at me. There is no hostility in her eyes, only a weary, practical understanding.

“Ricky,” Miranda calls out gently from the queue. “They’re calling our group. If we don’t go through security now, the gate doors will close.”

Ricky doesn’t move. He stays standing by the window, his hands still locked in mine, his breath warm against my forehead.

“Scar,” he whispers. “If I don’t get on that plane, he’s going to fire you on Monday. You know that, right? He won’t hesitate.”

“Let him,” I say.

“And he’s going to cut me off. He’ll pull the apartment. He’ll pull the investment accounts. I’ll have to start over from scratch, with a duffel bag and whatever is in my personal checking account.”

“Tommy has a spare bedroom in California,” I say with a watery laugh, wiping the tear from my cheek with the back of my sleeve. “And Liam’s couch is always open, even if he complains about the laundry.”

Ricky’s mouth curves into the faintest, saddest ghost of a smile, but the warmth in his eyes is real, glowing like an ember pulled from the ashes.

“Liam would murder me if he knew I was sleeping on his couch after sleeping with his sister,” Ricky murmurs.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” I squeeze his hands, leaning up on my toes so my face is inches from his. “I love you, Ricky. I think I’ve loved you for a very long time. But I am not going to be your dirty little secret, and I am not going to be the reason you give up on your life. If you choose to go to Chicago right now, you walk through that gate because you want that corporate career and that apartment and that life with Miranda. But if you stay, you stay for yourself. Not for me. Because we are going to have to fight for every single inch of what comes next.”

Ricky stares at me. For three long seconds, the entire world seems to stop spinning. The sounds of the airport fade into background static. The cold gray light from the window illuminates every detail of his face: the faint scar near his left eyebrow from a childhood bike crash, the steady pulse beating against his throat, the sudden, sharp clarity that washes over his dark eyes, replacing the terror with something solid, stubborn, and entirely his own.

He releases my hands.

He turns around and walks back toward the security checkpoint.

Henry is standing by the entrance to the metal detectors, watching his son approach with the calm, arrogant expectation of a man who has never lost a negotiation in his life.

“Good,” Henry says as Ricky reaches the blue stanchions. “Let’s get through security before the queue backs up. Miranda has the boarding passes on her phone.”

Miranda stands three feet ahead, her ticket barcode displayed on the screen of her phone, waiting at the TSA podium where an officer in a blue uniform is checking IDs.

Ricky stops at the front of the line.

He looks down at his heavy black duffel bag sitting on the tile floor.

He doesn’t pick it up.

“Ricky,” Henry says, his voice tightening with the first real edge of irritation. “Pick up your bag and show your identification.”

Ricky looks up. He meets his father’s gaze, his shoulders dropping back, his spine straightening until he is standing at his full height, looking down at the man who has controlled every breath he has taken since childhood.

“No,” Ricky says.

The single syllable rings out with shocking clarity in the quiet terminal.

The TSA agent looks up from his computer screen, glancing over the top of his reading glasses at the three of them. Miranda stops in her tracks, turning her head back toward Ricky, her eyes wide with sudden surprise.

Henry’s face goes entirely rigid. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” Ricky repeats, his voice level, calm, and completely devoid of the panic that had choked him ten minutes ago. “I’m not getting on that flight, Dad. I’m not going to Chicago with Miranda, I’m not attending the quarterly partner summit, and I’m not letting you threaten Scarlett to keep me on your payroll.”

“You are throwing away your entire life for a girl who doesn’t have two thousand dollars to her name,” Henry says, his voice dropping to a dangerous, venomous hiss, his face turning an ugly shade of red above his white collar. “Do you have any concept of what you are doing? The board will remove you before the market opens on Tuesday morning. I will personally see to it that every asset in your name is frozen.”

“Then freeze them,” Ricky says.

He reaches down, grabs the strap of his duffel bag, and slings it over his shoulder, stepping backward out of the security line and away from the checkpoint entirely.

“Ricky,” Miranda says softly, taking half a step toward him. “Are you sure about this?”

Ricky looks at Miranda, offering her a brief, genuinely respectful nod. “I’m sorry, Miranda. This isn’t about you. You’re great at what you do, and you deserve a partner who actually wants to build that division with you. But that person isn’t me. Have a safe flight.”

Miranda looks at him for a long moment. She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t look angry. In fact, a faint, almost invisible hint of respect crosses her features before she turns back to the TSA officer and hands over her boarding pass. “Just one for Chicago, officer.”

Henry watches Miranda step through the scanner, his chest heaving with silent, furious rage. He turns back to Ricky, his eyes burning with cold hatred.

“You walk out of this airport right now, Richard, and you are dead to this family,” Henry says, every word dripping with ice. “You will never set foot in my office again. You will never receive a dime from my estate. And your little friend over there will spend the rest of her life paying for this morning’s mistake.”

Ricky doesn’t flinch. For the first time in his life, he looks at his father without an ounce of fear in his face.

“You can take the money, Dad,” Ricky says quietly. “You can take the job, the apartment, the car, and the trust fund. But you don’t get to touch Scarlett. If you so much as whisper her name to another partner in this state, I will spend every dime I have left hiring the best forensic accountant in Chicago to go through the offshore shell companies you used to buy out the Miller estate three years ago. I know where the files are, Dad. I was the one who signed the blind trusts.”

Henry goes deathly pale.

The color vanishes from his face so fast it is almost comical. His mouth parts slightly, the polished corporate mask shattering into absolute, stunned silence. For the first time in twenty-eight years, Henry Nikodem has been outplayed, and he knows it.

Ricky doesn’t wait for an answer. He doesn’t give his father the satisfaction of another word.

He turns on his heel and walks straight toward me.

The look on his face is electric: fierce, exhausted, terrified, and completely free. He reaches me in four long strides, his hand reaching out to catch my waist, pulling me against his chest with a force that knocks the breath right out of my lungs.

“Come on,” Ricky whispers against my hair, his voice shaking with pure adrenaline. “Let’s get out of here before he figures out I was mostly bluffing about the offshore accounts.”

A breathless, half-hysterical laugh bursts out of my throat as my hands find his jacket, holding onto him with everything I have.

“Tommy’s outside,” I tell him, my heart hammering like a drum against my ribs. “He’s circling the terminal in the Subaru.”

“Good,” Ricky says, taking my hand and lacing his fingers through mine, his grip solid and warm. “Let’s go get Liam his bacon and egg sandwich.”

We turn our backs on the security checkpoint, on the boarding gate, and on Henry Nikodem standing frozen by the metal detectors, and we walk together toward the sliding glass doors that lead out into the cold, bright morning air.

**Updated 10/9**

Chapter 31 – The Cost of Staying

The automatic sliding doors open with a sharp mechanical hiss, and the winter wind hits us like a physical blow.

It is twenty degrees on the sidewalk outside the terminal. The morning air smells of jet fuel, exhaust fumes, and road salt. My thin canvas sneakers offer almost no protection against the slush pooling along the curb, but I barely feel the cold. My whole body is buzzing with a dangerous, wild adrenaline.

Ricky does not let go of my hand. His fingers remain locked through mine, his grip tight, almost bruising, as if he expects the wind to tear us apart if he loosens his hold for a single second. The heavy black duffel bag hangs from his left shoulder, bouncing against his hip with every long stride he takes.

Twenty yards ahead, hazard lights blink rhythmically in the passenger pickup lane.

Tommy’s blue Subaru idles against the concrete curb, exhaust billowing in thick white clouds into the gray sky. Through the frost-streaked windshield, I can see Tommy leaning over the steering wheel, his knuckles tapping an anxious rhythm against the dashboard. The moment he spots us coming through the glass doors, his head snaps up. His eyes widen in disbelief.

He leans across the console and shoves the front passenger door open from the inside.

“Get in,” Tommy calls out, his breath pluming in the cold air. “Hurry up before airport security decides I have been idling here too long.”

Ricky drops my hand only long enough to open the back door and throw his duffel bag across the seat. I scramble into the front passenger side, pulling the door shut behind me with a heavy thud, and Ricky dives into the back, collapsing against the worn fabric upholstery.

The warmth of the car hits us immediately, thick with the scent of pine air freshener, damp floor mats, and the faint trace of old coffee.

Tommy turns completely around in the driver seat, staring at Ricky. His mouth hangs open for two seconds before he manages to find his voice.

“You actually did it,” Tommy whispers, his voice caught somewhere between pure shock and profound relief. “Holy shit, Ricky. You walked away.”

Ricky leans his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. His chest rises and falls in rapid, uneven jerks. The dark stubble along his jaw is dusted with tiny beads of melted snow, his face pale and hollow under the dim car light.

“I walked away,” Ricky says, his voice coming out raw and scratched.

“Did Henry try to tackle you?” Tommy asks, his eyes flicking to the rear window as he shifts the car into drive and pulls away from the curb. “Did he call security?”

“He didn’t need to,” I tell Tommy, looking down at my hands. They are trembling so violently I have to tuck them beneath my thighs to keep them still. “He just stood there. He looked at Ricky like he was a broken piece of office equipment.”

“He was calculating,” Ricky murmurs from the back seat, his eyes still closed. “That is what he does when he loses. He doesn’t scream in public. He calculates the exact financial cost of retribution, and then he starts executing it line by line.”

Right on cue, Ricky’s phone begins to vibrate.

It does not just ring once. It begins a relentless, staccato vibration against the leather of his jacket, buzzing over and over in rapid succession like a machine gun firing off digital notices.

Ricky doesn’t move. He stays motionless against the seat, listening to the buzzing.

“Ricky,” I say gently, turning around to look at him. “You should look.”

He lets out a long, ragged exhale through his nose. He reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out his phone, and stares at the glowing screen. I watch the muscle in his jaw clench until the skin turns white.

“What is it?” Tommy asks, checking his rearview mirror as we merge onto the highway exit ramp.

“The first wave,” Ricky says quietly. He flips the phone around so I can see the screen.

The notifications are stacked in neat, terrifying rows:

A text alert from Nikodem Capital: Corporate Visa ending in 4402 has been flagged and suspended by primary account administrator.

A notification from the building management software for his high-rise in Lincoln Park: Keycard credentials for unit 18B and residential parking garage have been revoked pending administrative lease review.

An email notification from Northern Trust: Scheduled monthly disbursement from the Nikodem Family Trust has been placed on hold per trustee request.

And finally, a single text message from Henry’s personal number, sent exactly three minutes after we walked out of the terminal.

*The locks on the condo are being changed at noon,* the message reads. *Your personal effects will be cataloged and transferred to commercial storage until a full legal accounting of firm property is completed. Do not contact Miranda.*

The car is dead quiet. The only sound is the steady hum of the Subaru’s tires over the icy asphalt and the rhythmic thumping of the windshield wipers clearing the morning mist.

I feel a cold pit open in my stomach. The speed of it is breathtaking. Henry didn’t wait until Monday. He didn’t wait to see if Ricky would call him from the parking lot to apologize. The second Ricky said no at that security gate, Henry reached into his pocket, took out his phone, and stripped his son of his home, his money, and his job before we even reached the highway.

“He took the apartment,” I whisper, looking at Ricky.

Ricky stares at the screen for another three seconds, his face totally expressionless, before he clicks the side button and slides the dark phone back into his coat.

“Of course he did,” Ricky says, his voice completely flat. “The lease was in the firm’s name. The car I drive in the city is registered to the holding group. Every shirt I own in Chicago is currently behind an electronic deadbolt.”

“That is illegal,” Tommy says, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. “A landlord cannot change the locks on a tenant without thirty days formal notice, even if the tenant is his own kid.”

“Henry is the landlord, Tommy,” Ricky replies with a tired, bitter laugh. “And the local magistrate in that precinct plays golf with him every second Saturday. By the time I could file an emergency motion for unlawful eviction, he would have had my furniture moved to an industrial warehouse in Gary, Indiana. He wants me to know I have nothing. That was the whole point.”

I turn fully in my seat, reaching back to place my hand over his knee. Through the heavy fabric of his trousers, I can feel the tension locked in his muscles.

“We will figure it out, Ricky,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to sound stronger than the trembling in my chest. “You aren’t alone.”

Ricky looks down at my hand. A strange, fragile expression passes over his face, a mixture of profound gratitude and overwhelming guilt that makes my heart ache. He places his palm over the back of my hand, squeezing gently, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. The reality of what he just gave up is hanging between us in the cold car, heavy and sharp.

“Where are we going?” Tommy asks after a mile of silence. “Because if we go back to the house right now, Liam is going to ask why Ricky is sitting in the back of my car with a duffel bag when he was supposed to be boarding a flight to O’Hare.”

I close my eyes, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyelids. Liam.

In the chaos of running through the airport, confronting Henry, and watching twenty-eight years of family hierarchy collapse in the middle of Concourse B, I had almost forgotten that Liam was currently waking up in our parents’ guest room, completely oblivious to everything that has happened over the last twelve hours.

“Liam thinks Ricky is in Chicago,” I say, opening my eyes and looking at Tommy. “He thinks you and I went to pick up breakfast.”

“Right,” Tommy says. “Which brings me to an important operational detail. If we show up without the bacon and egg sandwich you promised him, Liam will immediately deduce that a catastrophic domestic emergency has occurred. The sandwich is our cover story.”

A small, breathless laugh escapes my throat despite the crushing weight in the car. “The diner on State Street is open.”

“State Street it is,” Tommy agrees, flicking his blinker and taking the downtown exit.

The Red Mug Diner sits on the corner of State and Fourth, its neon sign glowing a faded yellow against the gray morning sky. We pull into the drive-thru lane behind an old pickup truck. The smell of frying bacon and buttered toast drifts through the heater vents, absurdly normal against the backdrop of our ruined morning.

When we reach the speaker, Tommy orders two bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits for Liam, a bagel for himself, and three large black coffees.

When we pull up to the pickup window, Ricky instinctively reaches into his coat pocket for his wallet. He opens it, pulls out his corporate credit card, and stares down at the silver plastic for a second before his shoulders drop.

He freezes.

The cashier, a young girl with her hair tied in a messy bun, smiles through the open window. “That will be eighteen fifty, guys.”

Tommy doesn’t miss a beat. He immediately pulls a twenty-dollar bill from his own sun visor, hands it across the console to the girl, and waves away Ricky’s hand.

“Keep the change,” Tommy tells the cashier, taking the brown paper bag and the cardboard drink tray.

Ricky sits back in the seat, staring down at the useless piece of plastic in his fingers. He slowly slides the card back into his leather wallet and tucks it away. The silence that follows is painful, suffocating in its quiet humiliation.

“Ricky,” Tommy says, pulling the car out of the drive-thru and parking in an empty spot at the edge of the lot, keeping the engine running for heat. “Nobody cares about eighteen dollars. Stop looking like you just committed a crime.”

“I don’t have a checking account that isn’t connected to his bank, Tommy,” Ricky says, his voice dangerously low, his eyes fixed on the salt-covered pavement outside the window. “I have about four thousand dollars in a personal account I opened when I was in college, and my laptop. That is the sum total of my net worth right now.”

“Four thousand dollars is four thousand more than I had when I moved to San Diego,” Tommy replies without hesitation. “And you have a brain. You built that division in Chicago. Henry took the credit, but everybody in that office knew you were the one doing seventy hours a week on the logistics models. You can get another job.”

“Not in this state,” Ricky says. “Not after Henry calls every managing partner on the regional board.”

“Then you leave the state,” Tommy says simply. “Or you stay here and work for someone who hates Henry enough to hire you out of spite. There are at least three firms in the county that would take you on just to piss him off.”

Ricky looks out the window, his jaw tight. “I need some air.”

He opens the car door before either of us can stop him and steps out into the biting wind, walking toward the far edge of the asphalt where a low wooden fence separates the parking lot from a snow-covered field. He leans his forearms against the top rail, his shoulders hunched inside his dark overcoat, staring out at the gray horizon.

I reach for my door handle to follow him, but Tommy reaches across the console and puts a gentle hand on my forearm.

“Give him two minutes, Scar,” Tommy says softly.

I look at Tommy, my chest tightening. “He’s terrified, Tommy.”

“Of course he’s terrified,” Tommy replies, his brown eyes warm, serious, and completely steady. “He just stood in front of the man who has controlled every second of his life since he was a kid and told him to go to hell. If he wasn’t terrified, he would be insane.”

“I shouldn’t have gone to the airport,” I say, the doubt suddenly rushing into my throat like cold water. “If I had stayed home, he would have gotten on the plane. He would still have his apartment. He would still have his career. Henry wouldn’t be trying to destroy him.”

“Stop,” Tommy says, his tone firm, cutting straight through my spiral. “Scarlett, look at me.”

I look at him.

“Ricky did not stay because you forced him to,” Tommy says, leaning closer. “You went there and told him the truth. You gave him the choice. For the first time in his life, someone told him he didn’t have to be a martyr to be loved. If he chose to walk away from Henry, that belongs to him. You do not get to carry his consequences like they are your personal debt.”

A hot tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away angrily with the cuff of my sweater. “Henry is going to fire me on Monday, Tommy. You heard what he said.”

“Then you find another job too,” Tommy says without missing a beat. “You are twenty-four years old. You graduated at the top of your class. You are smart, you are relentless, and you are entirely capable of building a career without Henry Nikodem’s permission.”

I let out a shaky, wet breath, looking at my oldest friend. “How are you so calm right now?”

Tommy smiles, a small, sad, self-deprecating curve of his lips. “Because I am terrified about my own life, so giving you advice is a great way to avoid thinking about it.”

“Tommy,” I say softly.

He looks down at his hands on the steering wheel, his thumbs tracing the worn leather. “I have to tell Liam this week, Scar. And my dad. Seeing you two stand up to Henry in that airport, seeing Ricky literally throw away an entire fortune just to have one ounce of honesty in his life, it made me realize how pathetic I’ve been. I’ve been hiding in California for three years because I was scared my friends wouldn’t look at me the same way.”

“Liam loves you,” I say fiercely, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. “He is an idiot about laundry and fantasy football, but he loves you more than almost anyone in the world. He isn’t going to care.”

“I know,” Tommy whispers, his voice cracking slightly. “I know he won’t. But knowing it in your head doesn’t make the words any easier to say out loud. Just like Ricky knowing Henry is toxic doesn’t make losing his life any less terrifying.”

We sit in silence for a moment, watching Ricky through the windshield. He stands by the fence, the wind whipping his dark hair across his forehead, his breath rising in steady, white plumes. Finally, he straightens his spine, turns around, and walks back toward the Subaru.

He gets into the back seat, pulling the door shut against the howling wind.

“Okay,” Ricky says, his voice calmer now, the panic tucked away beneath a layer of stubborn resolve. “Let’s go face Liam.”

The drive back to my parents’ house takes less than ten minutes. The morning light is fully up now, a pale, milky winter white that shows every crack in the sidewalks and every patch of frozen slush along the quiet suburban streets.

When Tommy pulls into the driveway, the house looks deceptively peaceful. The Christmas wreath hangs on the front door, its red bow fluttering in the breeze. Inside the kitchen window, a warm yellow light is glowing.

“Remember,” Tommy says, turning off the ignition and grabbing the diner bag. “The story is simple. Ricky had a blowout fight with Henry at the gate over firm politics. Ricky refused to be Henry’s puppet anymore, walked away from the Chicago assignment, and came back with us. No mention of anything else. Liam doesn’t need to know the rest until we figure out where Ricky is sleeping tonight.”

“Understood,” Ricky says, grabbing his duffel bag.

I look at Ricky one last time before we get out of the car. He meets my gaze, giving me a small, silent nod of reassurance. He is putting on his armor, stepping back into the role of the composed, self-sufficient friend Liam has known for fifteen years.

We walk up the back steps and enter through the kitchen door.

The smell of brewing coffee hits us immediately. Liam is standing at the kitchen island in gray sweatpants and a faded college hoodie, holding a mug in one hand and staring at the digital coffee maker with bleary, half-open eyes.

He turns around as the door clicks shut, looking at the brown paper bag in Tommy’s hand.

“Finally,” Liam grunts, his voice thick with sleep. “I thought you guys got lost in the snow. Did you get the extra—”

He stops dead in his tracks.

His eyes flick from Tommy, to me, and then land directly on Ricky, who is standing in our kitchen entryway holding a heavy black travel bag over his shoulder.

Liam blinks, shaking his head as if trying to clear a dream. “Wait. What the hell? Ricky?”

“Morning, Liam,” Ricky says, his voice totally smooth, leaning his duffel against the wall by the coat rack.

“Why are you here?” Liam asks, setting his coffee mug down on the granite counter with a dull clatter. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a flight to Chicago with Miranda right now?”

Tommy steps forward immediately, setting the diner bag down on the island with theatrical precision. “Henry tried to pull a massive corporate ambush at the gate, man. Full-on Nikodem control freak nonsense. He tried to force Ricky to sign some garbage non-compete extension before boarding, and Ricky told him to take a hike.”

Liam’s brows draw together, his protective instincts instantly flaring to life. He looks at Ricky, his eyes narrowing with genuine concern. “Are you serious? At the airport?”

Ricky leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest to hide any lingering tremor in his fingers. “He wanted a public show of obedience, Liam. He wanted Miranda to watch him put a collar on me. I decided I was done playing the game.”

“Jesus Christ,” Liam mutters, running a hand through his messy morning hair. “Your dad is an absolute sociopath. I’ve been saying it for ten years. What happened after you told him no?”

“He told me I was out of the firm,” Ricky says, keeping his tone light, almost casual, though I can hear the razor-sharp edge beneath the words. “And he’s locking me out of the Lincoln Park place.”

Liam’s jaw drops. “He locked you out of your apartment? Today?”

“It’s corporate property,” Ricky says with a faint shrug. “Henry doesn’t waste time when he’s angry.”

“That is complete bullshit!” Liam explodes, slamming his hand down against the counter. “He can’t just throw you out in the street in the middle of winter! What a colossal piece of garbage.” Liam steps around the island, putting a heavy hand on Ricky’s shoulder, shaking him slightly with fierce, protective loyalty. “You’re staying here, man. Or at my apartment in town. My couch folds out, and my landlord doesn’t care who stays there. You aren’t giving that bastard the satisfaction of seeing you scramble.”

“Thanks, Liam,” Ricky says quietly, and for the first time this morning, the warmth in his voice is entirely real. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re my best friend,” Liam says firmly. He grabs the diner bag, pulling out the foil-wrapped biscuits. “Now eat something. You look like you just went twelve rounds in a boxing ring.”

“I need to wash up first,” Ricky says. “Use your bathroom upstairs?”

“You know where it is,” Liam says, already unwrapping his breakfast. “Towels are in the hall closet.”

Ricky nods, turning toward the stairs. As he passes me near the doorway, his eyes catch mine for a fraction of a second. A silent question hangs between us.

I wait until Liam has his mouth full of bacon biscuit and Tommy is actively distracting him with a breakdown of last night’s basketball scores before I slip quietly out of the kitchen and head up the carpeted stairs.

The hallway is quiet. The door to the guest bathroom is cracked open, the sound of water running in the sink echoing softly against the tile.

I walk past the bathroom and step into my old bedroom, leaving the door open two inches so it doesn’t look suspicious. Ten seconds later, the water turns off in the bathroom. Quiet footsteps pad across the hallway carpet, and Ricky slips into my room, pulling the door shut behind him until it clicks softly against the frame.

The room feels small, intimate, and impossibly quiet compared to the rest of the morning.

Ricky stands in the middle of the faded braided rug, his hands hanging at his sides. He has washed the road salt from his face, his dark hair damp around the temples, but the exhaustion in his posture is total. He looks like a man who has been carrying a mountain on his back and only just realized how badly his legs are shaking.

“Scarlett,” he whispers.

I cross the small distance between us and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his chest. His arms come around me instantly, pulling me flush against him, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His breath is warm, ragged, and trembling against my skin.

We stand there like that for a long time, not speaking, just holding each other in the quiet morning light filtering through my window blinds.

“I am proud of you,” I say softly into his shirt.

Ricky lets out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening against my back. “I’m terrified, Scar. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have an address. I don’t have anything.”

I pull back slightly so I can look into his face. I reach up, placing both hands on his cold cheeks, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“Listen to me, Ricky,” I say, keeping my voice gentle but completely unyielding. “You have your life. You have your independence. That is not nothing. But we need to establish some rules right now.”

He blinks down at me, surprised. “Rules?”

“Rules,” I repeat firmly. “I am not going to become your replacement for Henry. I am not going to be your handler, I am not going to manage your life, and I am not going to let you make me the center of your guilt. If we do this, if we are actually together, we do it with absolute honesty.”

“Scarlett, I never wanted—”

“No more secrets,” I interrupt softly, holding his gaze. “No more deciding what is best for me without asking me. No more noble sacrifices where you pretend you don’t love me just to protect my career. And no using physical intimacy to run away from having hard conversations.”

Ricky’s throat moves as he swallows hard. A faint, self-aware smile touches the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remain deeply vulnerable. “You mean I can’t just kiss you whenever I don’t know what to say?”

“You can kiss me,” I say, my own lips curving slightly. “After we finish talking. Not instead of it.”

“Deal,” he whispers.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine in the quiet room. “I love you, Scarlett. I don’t have a single thing to offer you right now except a mess, but I love you.”

“A mess is fine,” I tell him, sliding my hands into his damp hair. “We can clean up a mess. Just stay.”

“I’m staying,” he promises.

He kisses me then, slow and tender, completely different from the frantic, desperate hunger in the front seat of his car last night. This kiss is steady, grounded, and full of a quiet, solid certainty that makes the ground stop shifting beneath my feet.

When he finally pulls back, we both hear the floorboards creak downstairs. Liam is moving around the kitchen, his voice calling out Tommy’s name.

“You should go down,” I say reluctantly, smoothing the front of his shirt with my hands. “Before Liam decides to come looking for you.”

“Yeah,” Ricky agrees, taking a step back, though his hand lingers against mine until our fingertips lose contact. “I’ll go talk to him about crashing on his couch.”

He opens the bedroom door quietly and heads down the stairs.

I stand alone in my room for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath. My heart feels lighter than it has in weeks, despite the chaos swirling around us. We did it. We broke the cycle. We faced Henry Nikodem and survived the morning.

I walk over to my dresser to grab my phone and check the time.

The screen lights up with a new notification.

It is not a text message. It is an email sent directly to my personal address, time-stamped at 8:42 AM.

Sender: Henry Nikodem, Senior Managing Partner – Nikodem Law LLC

Subject: Formal Notice Regarding Provisional Placement and Character Fitness Review

My stomach drops through the floorboards.

I unlock the phone with a shaking thumb and open the message.

The text is short, professional, and terrifyingly cold:

Dear Ms. Vance,

In light of recent developments concerning professional ethics, character fitness, and conflicts of interest observed during the pre-employment assessment period, your provisional placement as a paralegal at Nikodem Law LLC has been indefinitely suspended pending an administrative inquiry.

A formal review hearing has been scheduled for Monday, December 29th, at 8:00 AM in Conference Room A.

Attendance is mandatory if you wish to contest the immediate termination of your employment offer and avoid the submission of a formal character advisory note to the State Bar Admissions Committee.

Please review the attached evidentiary file prior to the meeting.

Regards,

Henry Nikodem

Managing Partner

My hands are shaking so badly I almost drop the phone onto the rug.

I tap the attachment icon at the bottom of the screen. The PDF takes three agonizing seconds to download, the progress bar creeping forward until the document opens.

It is not an HR policy document.

It is a single, full-page high-resolution photograph taken from a private security camera located across the street from Aunt Rachel’s house last night.

The image is crystal clear beneath the glow of the outdoor holiday lights. Ricky and I are standing by the rear patio fence, his overcoat wrapped around my shoulders, my hands tangled in his hair, our mouths locked together in a deep, undeniable kiss.

Below the photograph, in small, precise red text, is a single sentence:

Richard is required to attend Monday’s review in person. Do not be late.

**Updated 10/16/26**

Chapter 32 – Under Watch

My hands are shaking so badly I almost drop the phone onto the rug.

I tap the attachment icon at the bottom of the screen. The PDF takes three agonizing seconds to download, the progress bar creeping forward until the document opens.

It is not an HR policy document.

It is a single, full-page high-resolution photograph taken from a private security camera located across the street from Aunt Rachel’s house last night.

The image is crystal clear beneath the glow of the outdoor holiday lights. Ricky and I are standing by the rear patio fence, his overcoat wrapped around my shoulders, my hands tangled in his hair, our mouths locked together in a deep, undeniable kiss.

Below the photograph, in small, precise red text, is a single sentence:

Richard is required to attend Monday’s review in person. Do not be late.

I stare at the screen until the words blur.

The photograph is professional quality. The angle is deliberate. The timestamp in the corner reads 11:47 PM, December 26th. Henry didn’t just happen to have this. He planned it. He positioned cameras. He waited.

My stomach twists so violently I think I might be sick.

I hear footsteps on the stairs, soft and careful, and then Ricky appears in the doorway. His hair is still damp from the shower. He’s wearing the same jeans from earlier and a clean black T-shirt that clings to his shoulders in a way that would normally make my brain short-circuit, but right now all I can do is hold up my phone.

“He sent me an email,” I say. My voice sounds hollow. “You need to see this.”

Ricky crosses the room in three strides and takes the phone from my hand. I watch his face as he reads. His jaw tightens. His eyes go dark and flat in a way that makes him look exactly like his father.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He scrolls down to the photograph and goes completely still.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks.

Then Ricky sets the phone down on the bed with exaggerated care, like he’s afraid he’ll crush it if he’s not careful, and runs both hands through his hair.

“He’s been watching us,” I say. The words feel absurd even as I say them. “He put cameras across the street from Rachel’s house. He knew we’d be there. He knew we’d…”

“He knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you,” Ricky finishes, his voice low and bitter. “That’s what he was counting on.”

I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. The guest room suddenly feels too small. Too exposed. Like Henry’s cameras might be here too, recording this exact moment for some future humiliation.

“The review is Monday,” I say. “That’s tomorrow. He’s requiring you to attend in person.”

Ricky’s laugh is sharp and humorless. “Of course he is. He wants me there so I can watch him destroy you. So I know exactly what it costs to disobey him.”

“He’s using me as leverage,” I say quietly. “That’s what this has always been. From the moment he hired me, he was setting this up. He knew how you felt about me before I did.”

Ricky turns to look at me, and the expression on his face is so raw it makes my chest ache. “I should have told you. The second he offered you that job, I should have told you what he was doing. But I thought…” He stops. Swallows hard. “I thought if I stayed away from you, if I kept my distance, he wouldn’t have anything to use. I thought I could protect you by pretending I didn’t care.”

“That’s not protection, Ricky,” I say, and I’m surprised by how steady my voice sounds. “That’s just another kind of control. You don’t get to decide what I can handle. You don’t get to make choices for me just because you’re scared of what your father will do.”

He flinches. “I know.”

“Do you?” I ask. “Because every time we get close to something real, you pull away. You tell me it’s to protect me, but it feels like you’re protecting yourself. Like you’re so afraid of what it means to actually want me that you’d rather let your father win.”

Ricky sits down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “I am afraid,” he says quietly. “I’m fucking terrified, Scar. Because wanting you, being with you, it’s the only thing in my life that’s ever felt like mine. And he knows that. He’s always known that. So he’s going to take it away, and he’s going to make sure it destroys both of us in the process.”

I reach out and touch his shoulder. He turns toward me, and I see the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight of years spent trying to be the son Henry wanted while hating every second of it.

“Then let’s stop giving him that power,” I say. “Let’s stop pretending this thing between us is something we need to hide or be ashamed of. Let’s go into that review on Monday and tell the truth.”

“The truth,” Ricky repeats, like he’s testing the word. “You mean admit that we’ve been sleeping together? That I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and spent years watching you not see it?”

My heart does something complicated in my chest. The words land differently than I expect. Not like a revelation, but like a confirmation of something I’ve always known but never let myself name.

“Since we were kids,” I repeat softly, and suddenly I’m remembering a thousand small moments. The way he used to look at me across crowded rooms. The way he’d find excuses to touch my hand or stand too close. The way he’d go quiet and tense whenever I dated someone else. “You knew. All this time, you knew what you felt.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I knew.”

And I didn’t. Or I did, but I couldn’t let myself see it. Couldn’t let myself feel it. Because feeling it would have meant admitting that what I felt for him was more than friendship, more than the safe comfortable thing I told myself it was.

“I think I loved you too,” I whisper. “I just didn’t know that’s what it was. I didn’t let myself know.”

He reaches up and covers my hand with his. His palm is warm and rough and familiar. “He’ll use it against you. He’ll say you seduced me to get the job, or that I coerced you because I have power over your career. He’ll twist it into something ugly.”

“He’s already doing that,” I point out. “The photograph, the formal review, the threat to report me to the Bar, it’s all designed to make me feel like what we did was wrong. Like I’m some kind of liability. But I’m not, Ricky. We’re not. We’re two adults who care about each other and made a choice.”

“A choice,” he echoes. His thumb strokes across my knuckles. “Is that what last night was? In the car?”

I feel heat rise in my cheeks. “Yes.”

“Because it felt like we were running from something,” Ricky says, his voice dropping lower. “Like we were so desperate to feel anything other than afraid that we just… combusted.”

I pull my hand back, stung. “Is that what you think? That I slept with you because I was scared?”

“No,” he says quickly. “Fuck, no. That’s not what I meant.” He turns fully toward me now, his eyes searching mine. “I meant that I don’t know if we’ve been honest with each other. Not really. We keep using sex as a way to avoid the hard conversations. And I don’t want that anymore, Scar. I don’t want to touch you because I’m afraid of losing you. I want to touch you because I’ve chosen you. Because you’ve chosen me. Not because we’re running out of time.”

The words settle between us, heavy and true.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Then let’s be honest.”

Ricky nods. He takes a breath. “I love you. I’ve loved you since I was fourteen years old and didn’t have the words for it yet. I’ve been a coward about it. I let my father control me because it was easier than fighting him. I let you think I didn’t care because I was too afraid to admit how much I did. And last night, when we were in the car, I wanted you so badly I couldn’t think straight. But I also wanted to protect you from what was coming, and I didn’t know how to do both.”

My throat tightens. “I love you too,” I whisper. “And I’m angry at you for trying to make decisions for me. But I also understand why you did it. Your father is terrifying, Ricky. He’s powerful and cruel and he’s spent your entire life teaching you that love is a weakness he can exploit. But I’m not weak. And neither are you. Not when we’re together.”

He reaches for me then, pulling me into his lap so I’m straddling him, my knees on either side of his hips. His hands settle on my waist, warm and steady.

“I don’t want to run anymore,” he says, his voice rough. “I don’t want to hide. I want to walk into that review on Monday and tell my father that he doesn’t get to decide who I love or how I live my life. And I want you beside me when I do it.”

“I’ll be there,” I promise. “But not because you’re protecting me. Because we’re protecting each other.”

He nods, and then he kisses me.

It’s different from last night. Slower. More deliberate. His mouth moves against mine with a tenderness that makes my chest ache, and when his tongue slides against mine, I feel it all the way down to my toes.

I thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him back, pouring everything I couldn’t say into the press of my lips, the tilt of my head, the way I pull him closer.

His hands slide up under my shirt, his palms hot against my bare skin, and I shiver.

“Scar,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” I breathe. “I want you. Not because I’m scared. Not because we’re running out of time. Because I choose you, Ricky. Right now. In this moment.”

He groans, low and desperate, and pulls my shirt over my head in one smooth motion. I’m not wearing a bra, and the cool air hits my skin just before his mouth does.

He kisses down my throat, across my collarbone, and then lower, his lips closing around one nipple while his hand cups the other breast. I gasp and arch into him, my fingers tightening in his hair.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. Wanted to take my time with you. Make you feel good.”

“Then do it,” I whisper. “We have time now.”

He lifts his head and looks at me, his eyes dark and hungry. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He shifts me off his lap and stands, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. I watch, my mouth going dry, as he unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down along with his boxers. He’s already hard, his cock thick and flushed, and I feel an answering heat pool low in my belly.

“Your turn,” he says, his voice rough.

I stand and hook my thumbs into the waistband of my leggings, sliding them down slowly along with my underwear. His gaze follows the movement, and when I step out of them and stand before him completely naked, he makes a sound that’s halfway between a groan and a curse.

“Come here,” he says, and I do.

He pulls me against him, skin to skin, and the contact is electric. I can feel every inch of him, hard and warm and wanting, and I press closer, needing more.

He walks me backward toward the bed, his hands roaming over my body, touching me everywhere like he’s memorizing the shape of me. When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, I sit, and he follows me down, covering my body with his.

“I want to taste you,” he says, his lips brushing against my ear. “I want to make you come on my tongue before I fuck you. Can I do that?”

“Yes,” I breathe. “God, yes.”

He kisses his way down my body, taking his time, his mouth hot and wet against my skin. When he reaches the inside of my thigh, he bites down gently, and I cry out, my hips lifting off the bed.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over my center. “I’ve got you.”

And then his mouth is on me, his tongue sliding through my folds, and I forget how to breathe.

He licks me slowly, thoroughly, like he’s savoring every taste, every sound I make. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him, and when he closes his lips around my clit and sucks, I nearly come apart.

“Ricky,” I gasp, my hands fisting in the sheets. “Oh my god.”

He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body, and then he slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right.

I’m already so close. The pressure builds and builds, coiling tight in my belly, and when he adds a third finger and thrusts harder, I shatter.

The orgasm crashes over me in waves, and I cry out his name, my body shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, just keeps licking and sucking and fucking me with his fingers until I’m boneless and gasping.

When he finally pulls back, his mouth is wet and his eyes are wild.

“You taste so fucking good,” he says, his voice wrecked. “I could do that all day.”

I reach for him, pulling him up so I can kiss him, tasting myself on his lips. “Next time,” I promise. “Right now I need you inside me.”

He settles between my thighs, his weight pressing me into the mattress, and I feel the hard length of him against my entrance. But he doesn’t move. He just looks at me, his eyes searching mine.

“I don’t have anything,” he says quietly. “No condom. I didn’t plan for this.”

My heart pounds. I know what he’s asking. What we’re both choosing if we do this.

“I’m on birth control,” I whisper. “And I trust you.”

“Are you sure?” His voice is rough, strained. “Scar, if we do this…”

“I’m sure,” I say, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I want to feel you. All of you. No barriers. Just us.”

He groans, his forehead dropping to mine. “Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“I won’t,” I say. “I need you, Ricky. All of you.”

He pushes inside me slowly, inch by inch, and the stretch is perfect. I’m still sensitive from the orgasm, and every movement sends sparks of pleasure through my body. The feeling of him bare inside me, nothing between us, is overwhelming in the best way.

When he’s fully seated, he pauses, his forehead resting against mine. “Fuck, Scar. You feel incredible.”

“Move,” I whisper. “Please.”

He does.

He pulls out almost all the way and then thrusts back in, hard and deep, and I moan. He sets a steady rhythm, his hips snapping against mine, and I meet him thrust for thrust, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, his voice rough. “Is this what you needed?”

“Yes,” I gasp. “God, yes. Harder.”

He complies, fucking me harder, faster, the bed creaking beneath us. His hand slides between our bodies, his thumb finding my clit, and I cry out.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Come for me again, Scar. I want to feel you.”

The pressure builds again, impossibly fast, and when he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot deep inside me, I come undone.

I clench around him, my body shaking, and he groans, his rhythm faltering. “Fuck, I’m close.”

“Come,” I whisper. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

He thrusts twice more, hard and desperate, and then he’s there, his body going rigid as he spills inside me. The heat of him filling me is intimate and raw and perfect. He buries his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin, and I hold him close, my fingers stroking through his hair.

For a long moment, we just lie there, tangled together, our hearts pounding in sync.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at me. His eyes are soft, vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before.

“I meant what I said,” he tells me. “I choose you. No matter what happens on Monday.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I choose you too.”

He kisses me gently, then pulls out and stays close, his body warm against mine. He pulls the covers over us and gathers me against his chest.

I rest my head on his shoulder, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat, and for the first time since I opened Henry’s email, I feel something other than fear.

I feel ready.

“We should talk about Monday,” I say quietly. “About what we’re going to say.”

Ricky’s hand strokes up and down my spine. “We tell the truth. We tell him that we’re in a relationship, that it started after you were hired, and that neither of us did anything unethical.”

“He’s going to say I used you to get the job,” I point out. “Or that you coerced me.”

“Then we show him the timeline,” Ricky says. “We show him that we’ve been friends for years, that there’s a whole group of people who can verify that. We show him that you earned that position on your own merit, and that our relationship is separate from your employment.”

“He has a photograph of us kissing,” I remind him. “He’s going to say it proves we were involved before the airport. Before you refused to get on the plane.”

“So we admit it,” Ricky says. “We admit that we’ve had feelings for each other for a long time, but that we didn’t act on them until after the employment offer was made. We admit that the kiss happened at a private family party, and that he had no right to surveil us.”

I lift my head to look at him. “You think that’ll work?”

“I think it’s the truth,” he says. “And I think the truth is the only thing that has a chance of working. He’s expecting us to lie, Scar. He’s expecting us to be ashamed. If we walk in there and own it, if we refuse to let him make us feel like we did something wrong, then we take away his power.”

I consider this. “What about the Bar complaint? He threatened to file a character advisory.”

“Let him,” Ricky says, and there’s steel in his voice now. “If he files a complaint, we’ll fight it. We’ll get statements from everyone who knows us. We’ll show that this is a personal vendetta, not a legitimate ethics concern. And if it comes down to it, I’ll testify on your behalf. I’ll tell them exactly what kind of man my father is.”

“That’ll destroy your relationship with him,” I say quietly.

“It’s already destroyed,” Ricky says. “It’s been destroyed for years. I’ve just been too afraid to admit it.”

I settle back against his chest, my mind racing. “Tommy should be there. As a witness. He knows the whole story. He can verify the timeline.”

“Good idea,” Ricky agrees. “Anyone else?”

“Liam,” I say, then hesitate. “But that means telling him about us.”

Ricky is quiet for a moment. “Yeah. It does.”

“He’s going to be pissed,” I say. “Not because of us, but because we didn’t tell him. Because we let him think everything was fine while we were hiding this.”

“He’ll get over it,” Ricky says. “Liam loves you. He’ll be angry for about five minutes, and then he’ll be in our corner. You know he will.”

I do know that. Liam has always been protective of me, but he’s also fair. Once he understands why we kept it quiet, once he sees what Henry’s been doing, he’ll support us.

“Okay,” I say. “We tell Liam tomorrow. Before the review.”

“Tomorrow,” Ricky agrees.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and my stomach drops. I reach for it, half expecting another email from Henry, but it’s just a text from Tommy.

You guys okay? Liam’s asking questions. I told him you were both exhausted and crashed early. Let me know if you need anything.

I show the text to Ricky, and he sighs. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Yeah,” I agree, but I don’t move. I stay curled against him, my hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady rhythm beneath my palm.

“Scar?” he says after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

I lift my head. “For what?”

“For not giving up on me,” he says quietly. “For coming to the airport. For making me see that running wasn’t the answer. For choosing me even when it would have been easier not to.”

I lean up and kiss him softly. “You’re worth it,” I tell him. “We’re worth it.”

He pulls me closer, and I close my eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the sound of his breathing lull me toward sleep.

Just before I drift off, my phone buzzes again.

This time, it’s an email notification.

I almost ignore it, but something makes me reach for the phone. When I see the sender’s name, my blood runs cold.

Henry Nikodem.

I open the email with shaking hands.

It’s short. Just two lines.

I trust you’ve had time to review the evidence. Richard’s presence at Monday’s review is non-negotiable. I suggest you both prepare accordingly.

Below the text is another attachment.

I don’t want to open it. Every instinct I have is screaming at me not to open it.

But I do.

It’s another photograph. This one is from tonight. Taken through the guest room window.

Ricky and I are on the bed, tangled together, my head on his chest. The image is grainy, taken from a distance, but it’s clear enough.

Clear enough to prove that Henry knows exactly where we are.

Clear enough to prove that he’s still watching.

I drop the phone like it’s burned me.

Ricky sits up immediately. “What? What is it?”

I can’t speak. I just point at the phone.

He picks it up, reads the email, opens the attachment. I watch his face go white, then red, then white again.

“That fucking bastard,” he breathes. “He’s outside. Right now. He’s watching us right now.”

I pull the blanket up to my chin, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way that makes my skin crawl. “We need to close the curtains.”

Ricky gets up and crosses to the window, yanking the curtains shut with enough force that the rod nearly comes off the wall. Then he grabs his phone and dials.

“Who are you calling?” I ask.

“The police,” he says grimly. “This is harassment. This is stalking. He doesn’t get to do this.”

But before the call connects, his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

He looks at the screen, and his jaw tightens.

“What?” I ask.

He shows me.

It’s from Henry.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you. A police report would be very unfortunate for Scarlett’s Bar application. Especially given the nature of the photographs.

Ricky stares at the message for a long moment. Then he throws his phone across the room. It hits the wall with a crack and falls to the floor.

“He’s got us,” Ricky says, his voice hollow. “No matter what we do, he’s got us.”

I get out of bed and walk over to him. I take his face in my hands and make him look at me.

“No,” I say firmly. “He doesn’t. He has photographs. He has threats. But he doesn’t have us, Ricky. Not unless we let him.”

“Scar…”

“We go to the review on Monday,” I say. “We bring Tommy. We bring Liam. We tell the truth, and we don’t back down. And if he files a Bar complaint, we fight it. Together.”

Ricky searches my face. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” I say. “Are you?”

He takes a shaky breath. Then he nods. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

I kiss him, hard and fierce, and he kisses me back with the same intensity.

When we finally break apart, I pick up his cracked phone from the floor and hand it to him. “We should document everything. Every email, every text, every photograph. If this goes to the Bar, we’ll need evidence that he’s been harassing us.”

“Good thinking,” Ricky says. He takes the phone and starts screenshotting the messages.

I grab my own phone and do the same, my hands steadier now that I have a plan.

When we’re done, Ricky pulls me back into bed and holds me close. “Try to get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.”

I nod against his chest, but I know I won’t sleep.

Not with Henry’s cameras pointed at us.

Not with Monday looming just hours away.

Not with everything we’ve built hanging in the balance.

But I close my eyes anyway, and I hold onto Ricky, and I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, the truth will be enough.

Richard is required to attend Monday’s review in person. Do not be late.

**Updated Weekly**

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Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6