Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Amelia

Peanut watches Grey go, a whine leaving him as his tail wags sadly. "It's okay, buddy, don't worry. I'll bring you home," I tell him, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

I can walk a big arse dog alone, right?

His soulful eyes look up at me, and I can almost hear him asking, "Are you sure you can? You look lost."

Well, I am lost, but at least I know the direction to Mr. Donovan's home.

Peanut nudges my leg with his nose, seeking reassurance, so I bend to scratch behind his ears. "Did Grey really just tell me that he was into me?" I ask him, and he tilts his head as if he's thinking about it.

Yeah, I don't know either.

He said he would have kissed me back, right? Just before he was about to kiss me?

Fuck, what did I do?

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The park feels too open, too exposed, and I need the safety of walls around me. Peanut seems to sense my unease and presses closer to my side, his fur brushing against my leg. I give him a gentle tug on the leash, and we start our walk back to Mr. Donovan's house. He trots along beside me, occasionally looking up to check on me.

When we arrive and enter through the unlocked door, I hear voices drifting down from upstairs. Mr. Donovan and Morgan are talking, and their laughter fills the house.

"Hello? I'm bringing Peanut back. I'm just gonna leave him here, okay?"

"Amelia!" Morgan shows up at the top of the stairs. "Come on up. We're decorating my new room."

I guide Peanut upstairs, and Morgan takes my wrist, smiling as she pulls me down the hallway to a room on the right. When we enter, Mr. Donovan looks up from the reading chair he is sitting in, his face lighting up when he sees me.

"Amelia, dear, what a pleasant surprise. We're just getting things settled in here. How are you?"

I try to smile back, but it feels brittle. "I'm okay," I say, though my voice wavers. I set Peanut's leash down, and he immediately flops onto the floor with a contented sigh.

Morgan goes to sit on the bed and pats the comforter beside her, and I sit down next to her, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me.

"You don't look okay," she says, her eyes full of concern. "What's going on?"

"Where's Grey?" Mr. Donovan asks, his brows furrowing.

I can't tell them. But I need to tell someone.

This is such a bloody mess.

The words catch in my throat, and for a moment, I can't speak. Then everything starts to spill out. "I… I have feelings for all three of them."

"You have… for all of them?" Morgan looks at me, eyebrows up to her hairline, and I'm not brave enough to even look at Mr. Donovan when I continue.

"I tried to kiss Misha because it just felt right in the moment, but he rejected me. Now I feel like the worst person ever because I think Grey and Oliver…" I trail off as I struggle to find the right words. "… I think I might have hurt them with what I did."

At first, Morgan's eyes widen, but then her face softens with compassion as she reaches out to take my hand. "Oh, Amelia…"

"Well, I've noticed the way my grandson looks at you. He's never brought a woman home before or introduced anyone to me. I know my boy, and I can tell you for sure he's in love with you."

Morgan nods reluctantly. "And Oliver… let's just say it might have hurt him, yes."

Tears blur my vision, and I cover my face with my hand. "I've messed everything up. I finally felt like I'd found a place here, and now I've ruined it."

Morgan squeezes my hand tighter. "I'm sure you haven't. They care about you too much. And even if you did, you haven't ruined things with us . We can be our own trio."

The sentiment grounds me a little, and I manage to look at her. "The grandmas and the grandpa?"

Mr. Donovan frowns, confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

Morgan grins. "Exactly."

I can't help but laugh through my teary eyes, but the weight on my chest doesn't lift.

"You can't decide who you love," Mr. Donovan says gently. "But you need to think about what you want to do. You can't bring the boys to fight over you or split up because of you. Their careers and their bond are too intertwined. You can't take that away from them. They worked too hard and went through too much."

Morgan nods, her expression serious. "He's right. I want you to be happy, and I want Oliver to be happy, but with this… complication, maybe it's better to stay friends."

I nod slowly, the realization sinking in. "I think you're right," I murmur. "I think I can do that."

It doesn't feel like I can do that.

Mr. Donovan stands slowly and walks over to us to pat my shoulder. "We'll figure this out, dear."

I take a deep breath, feeling a little lighter. It's a mess, but at least I'm not facing it alone. Maybe the guys and I will find a way through this without losing each other.

Oliver

I left hours ago.

Wandering aimlessly through the streets, trying to escape the suffocating tension of the apartment because I couldn't stay in the office next to Misha for another second.

I love him, and I know this situation isn't his fault, but if I had to listen to him apologize one more time, I might have punched him. Or worse, I might have gone ahead and deleted Jamie, after all.

Worst idea I've ever had, but I felt betrayed by him.

Betrayed by my own creation.

Instead, I left the apartment I'd shared with my two best friends for five years without even a wave of goodbye. I should have gone to Morgan and Grandpa Donovan and talked it out with them. She texted and called me a few times, probably having heard what happened.

The question is from who, but that's the least of my worries .

I'm too ashamed.

This is my own fault.

Whether I want to admit it or not, it is. My insecurities and inability to act on my feelings brought us all into this mess.

When I finally return, the apartment is dark and silent. I head toward the home office, where a dim light still glows. Misha is there, fast asleep in his chair, slumped over and looking uncomfortable. Normally, I'd try to get him to move a little, but tonight I'll let him sleep like that.

Petty? Probably, but I don't care.

The screen shows that Amelia's apartment is dark, too, except for a dim light coming from her bedroom. She probably fell asleep reading.

I turn, about to head to my room, desperate for sleep, when I hear it—a sob that makes me stop in my tracks and turn back to the screens.

There it is again.

We have an unspoken rule never to switch to the cameras in her bedroom.

It feels wrong.

Watching her at all is wrong, but at least we've never invaded the most private part of her home. But now, I can't resist. I change the camera feed, and there it is.

Her bedroom.

The room is a soft haven of yellow and white with delicate fairy lights strung along the walls. Shelves hold an array of cute knick-knacks, small potted plants, and books. Her bed is in the center, adorned with a yellow comforter and an avocado plushie.

In the middle of it all lies Amelia, curled up on her side, crying.

She's crying.

But then I notice her hand moving rhythmically and realize with a jolt that she's pulling her hair again. Her fingers twist and yank at the strands while tears stream down her cheeks, her eyes puffy and red.

I freeze, feeling utterly helpless. I've seen her in agony, choking, almost passing out, numb, and angry.

Over the last few weeks, I saw so much of her.

But I've never seen her cry.

She's so damn strong, and watching her fall apart right in front of my eyes shatters me. Her sobs are gut-wrenching, each one tearing through me like a knife. The way she clutches her hair is as if she is trying to pull the pain out by the roots.

I should leave her alone.

If I act, she'll probably find out. How would I know she needs me now? How could I justify being here at this moment? But I can't just stand by and do nothing any longer. We're all in this mess because I was too scared to act for too long.

If I had just asked her out two years ago, when I first saw her and fell for her, she would've had two years free from loneliness. And I would have been free from this longing.

And she would have never fallen in love with my best friends.

I can't change the past, but I can change the situation for her right now. Earlier in the log, I noticed that someone, probably Grey, unlocked her door before he went down to get her. Following his example, I do the same. After switching the cameras back to the living room, I walk out of the apartment as quietly as I came and make my way down to her.

My heart pounds as I approach her door. I hesitate for a moment, gathering my courage before gently pushing it open .

The sound of her sobs guides me to her bedroom, and I quietly enter, my heart aching as I find Amelia still lying on her bed, tears streaming down her face. I lie down next to her, causing her to startle. Her eyes widen in surprise and fear.

"Shh, it's just me," I whisper. She cries even harder, and I take her wrist, stopping her from pulling at her hair. "I've got you. Shh. I'm here." She sobs, covering her eyes with her other hand. I realize it's because she's embarrassed that I caught her pulling her hair. My chest tightens at the sight. "You don't have to be ashamed, not with me. Never with me," I say, pulling her to my chest and kissing the top of her head. I can feel her trembling against me. "I've got you, okay? Everything will be all right. You're not alone. I'm here. I'm sorry I wasn't for so long. But I am now."

We lie there in silence for a while, the only sound being her quiet sobs and my steady breathing. I can feel her slowly relaxing in my arms, her sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles. My heart aches for her, wanting to take away all her pain.

"Oliver?" she asks, her voice strained.

"Yes?" I whisper.

"Why are you not mad at me?"

Why would I be?

"I could never be mad at you," I assure her, stroking her hair and feeling its silkiness against my fingers.

She whispers so quietly I can barely hear it, "Is it so bad that I want to feel loved just once without feeling like I'm begging for it?"

Her question pierces my heart, making my eyes prick with tears.

I fucked up so badly.

"It's not."

You never have to beg with me, Amelia.

I stroke her back, feeling her relax with each gentle caress. I breathe in her soothing lavender scent, feeling a wave of calm wash over me, too, making me sleepy again.

"Stay with me?" she pleads, her voice filled with vulnerability.

"As long as you need me," I promise.

She buries her face in my chest, her tears soaking into my shirt, prompting me to hold her tighter. "I can hear your heartbeat," she murmurs, her voice muffled.

"Tell me if it stops."

Her breathing steadies, and the tension slowly leaves her body. She's exhausted, physically and emotionally. As she starts to snore quietly, a small, contented smile spreads across my face.

"I'll love you until my heart gives out," I promise before I pull off my glasses, reach out to set them on her nightstand, and close my eyes, letting sleep take me too.