24. Austin
Chapter 24
Austin
I lean back against the cool marble countertop, a glass of whiskey in hand. The ice clinks softly as I take a slow sip, the burn of the alcohol grounding me. Across the kitchen island, Cohen rummages through the fridge, pulling out leftovers from last night's dinner.
"Thai again?" he chuckles, glancing over at me with that familiar crooked grin.
"Better than whatever take-out you'd have ordered," I retort, my tone light but firm. The mundane banter, the comfortable back-and-forth—it's our way of keeping the peace, avoiding the tension simmering just beneath the surface.
Cohen plates up the food and slides into a chair. We eat in silence for a few moments before I set down my fork, my thoughts drifting to the woman who's turned my life sideways. Skylar.
"Can we talk?" I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
"About what? The Henderson merger or the fact that we're out of coffee?" Cohen replies, his attempt at humor falling flat between us.
"Skylar," I say, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. There's no point in dancing around the issue anymore.
He pauses mid-chew, his expression closing off for a moment before he swallows and nods. "Yeah, okay."
"Look, we've shared women before, but this..." I trail off, struggling to find the right words. This would be different. Permanent, even. My fingers tighten around my glass.
"Isn’t temporary," Cohen finishes for me, his voice low. He leans back, running a hand through his hair. "This wouldn't be like those other times."
"Exactly." I stand, pacing the length of the kitchen. "So how do you feel about all this?"
There's a long pause. Cohen's gaze meets mine, a silent understanding passing between us. We're brothers, bonded by blood in every sense, but this...this is new territory.
"I don't know, Austin." His voice is laced with an honesty that catches me off guard. "It's complicated with her."
"Complicated," I echo, feeling the weight of that word settle in my chest. It's not just about sharing Skylar; it's about the tangled web of emotions she's awakened in each of us. Emotions I'm not sure any of us are ready to navigate. Well, except Theo. He knows exactly what he wants when it comes to Skylar Deveraux.
"Look, we need to figure this out," I say, stopping in front of him. "Before it’s—"
"Too late?" Cohen suggests, and there’s a resigned edge to his voice.
"Right." I take another drink, the whiskey doing little to soothe the restless energy coursing through me.
The ice in my glass clinks as I set it down, the sharp sound slicing through the silence. My eyes narrow, locking onto Cohen's. "You're holding something back."
Cohen shifts in his seat, a flicker of unease crossing his features. He runs a hand over his stubble, a tell that never fails to betray his discomfort. "Skylar," he starts, his voice rough around the edges, "she was the one I met in Vegas."
"Vegas?" The word echoes in my head. "Why the hell didn't you say anything before now?"
He hesitates, tension coiling around us like a serpent. His deep blue eyes look stormy, clouded with memories he'd rather forget. "It was right after..." His voice trails off, but there's no need for him to finish the sentence. Right after his wife left him shattered.
"Go on," I prod, a bitter taste creeping into my mouth.
"I was a mess, Austin." He fidgets with his watch, his movements betraying his calm facade. "I barely remembered anything from that trip. Didn't even know it was Skylar until later. Much later. We never exchanged names and she looked…I don’t know, different?"
"Christ, Cohen." I rake a hand through my hair, frustration mounting. "And now?"
His gaze meets mine again, more vulnerable than I've seen in a long time. "Now, it makes sense why I was so drawn to her. Even from the start."
Cohen sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can’t explain it, Austin. But I want her in ways I never expected. It's always felt natural with her. Like we've known each other forever."
A knot forms in my stomach, not from anger, but from something else. Something deep. I swallow hard, my jaw clenching. "You’re telling me you want her? You want this...mess?"
He nods slowly, his voice lower now. "Yeah. I do. It feels strange, and it’s not easy, but I want it. I want her, Austin. All of her. Even if it means sharing her. And that’s hard to admit, especially to you, but I can’t keep pretending it’s just some casual thing."
I feel like I’ve been hit with a freight train, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. The words I want to say are tangled up, too heavy to get out.
"So what do we do now?" I finally ask, the question hanging in the air between us.
Cohen takes a deep breath, his shoulders tense. "I don't know, man. But I don’t want to walk away from this. Not now. Not with her. It’s messy, but...it’s real." He looks me straight in the eyes. "I think I’ve fallen for her."
The weight of his confession settles over me, and for a moment, everything goes quiet. It’s almost suffocating. My chest tightens, and the words that have been swirling inside of me for days finally rise to the surface.
I swallow, trying to shake off the lump in my throat, but it's no use. "I think...I think I’ve got real feelings for her too."
The silence stretches between us, heavy and pregnant with possibilities. For a long moment, we both just sit there, the weight of what we’re saying finally starting to settle into place.
You need to figure out what you want," Cohen says finally, his voice steady. "She’s not gonna wait forever. Neither of us can keep dragging our feet."
I nod, but the ache in my chest tightens again. He’s right, and I know it. I’ve been pushing Skylar away, testing her, but I’ve never let myself truly admit how much I care. And now, I don’t know if she’s still waiting for me—or if she’s already moved on.
After the conversation with Cohen, something shifts inside me. The weight of it all, the mess I've created, and the confusion swirling around me—it's suddenly clear. I don’t want to push Skylar away anymore. I don’t want to keep pretending that the distance I’ve been creating between us is for some higher purpose, some noble reason.
It's because I'm scared.
But knowing what I don’t want doesn't make figuring out what I do want any easier. I’m stuck. Stuck between desperately wanting to fix this and being too damn scared to actually make the first move. I don’t know how to get back to her, how to bridge the gap I’ve created. The more I think about it, the more frustrated I become, and the more I feel like I’m drowning in this sea of uncertainty.
It’s hard to look at her sometimes, because when I do, I see everything I’ve messed up, everything I can’t fix with a single apology. I want to make things right, but every time I open my mouth, I feel like I’m just digging myself deeper into the hole I’ve already created.
But I can't sit in this mess forever. I need to know if there’s still something between us. If I’m not just holding on to something that doesn’t exist anymore.
So, I decide to test her.
I don’t know why I do it. Maybe it’s instinct, maybe it’s desperation. But I start pushing her, in small, subtle ways. Snide comments, little digs at her, trying to provoke some kind of reaction, something that’ll tell me where we stand.
"Don’t you think we’ve had enough of the silent treatment?" I throw out casually, watching her out of the corner of my eye as she sorts through some papers on the kitchen counter. It’s a jab, an attempt to get a rise out of her. She’s been quiet lately, distant in a way that’s hard to ignore.
Her eyes flick up, but she doesn’t bite. Instead, she just sighs, shaking her head. "Not everything has to be a confrontation, Austin."
I feel my jaw tighten. Of course she’s not biting. She’s too damn calm, too composed. It's like she’s already pulled away, already disconnected.
A few days later, I push again. "You know, I don’t really get why you’re so hung up on making everything so perfect. It’s like you’re trying to win some kind of award for being a saint or something." I throw out the words, sharp and biting, but I can’t ignore the way my heart starts to race.
Skylar’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think I’ve hit a nerve. But she doesn’t rise to it. She just shrugs, unfazed, her voice quiet but firm. "I don’t need an award, Austin. I just want to be left alone."
Her response stings. More than it should. It's like she's pulling away, inch by inch, and no matter how hard I try to provoke her, she just keeps retreating further into herself. And with every step she takes back, I feel my own frustration building. Why isn't she fighting for this? Why isn’t she reacting the way I want her to?
I refuse to back off, though. I can’t. I can’t be the one to give up on this. So, I keep pushing. A snide remark here, a sarcastic jab there. It’s like a game, but I’m the only one playing.
And as the days go on, I can’t ignore the way she’s pulling back more and more. The space between us grows wider, and every attempt I make to provoke her only seems to make things worse. It’s like I’m driving her further away, but I can’t stop myself. Every time she closes off, I feel more desperate to reach her, but the harder I push, the more she shuts down.
I feel sick to my stomach.
I realize it’s time to stop playing games. If I can’t get her to react the way I want, maybe I need to just ask her—ask her what she wants, what she’s feeling, where we stand. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get the answer I need.
It’s time for an actual conversation.
I stride across the room, determination setting my jaw firm. Skylar's back is turned to me, her posture rigid, as if she’s bracing against an invisible storm. It's time I own up to my shit.
"Skylar," I call out, my voice sounding like I’m under control despite how I feel.
She pauses but doesn’t turn around.
"Please, just a minute."
Finally, she faces me, those hazel eyes locking onto mine with a guarded coolness that makes my chest tighten. She’s poised to flee, I can tell, but this time, I'm not letting her escape—not without hearing me out.
"Look, I know I've been...difficult," I start, hating how inadequate the word sounds for all the tension I've caused between us.
"Difficult?" she echoes, one eyebrow arching in challenge. "That's one way to put it."
Her sharp tone stings, but it's deserved. I’ve been pushing her, testing her, trying to ignite some reaction, any sign that she cares. But the cold truth is, I've been acting like a damn fool.
"More than difficult," I concede, stepping closer. "I've been a jerk. And I'm sorry."
The air between us charges with the weight of my admission. She blinks, surprise flickering across her face before the mask of indifference slips back into place.
"Apology accepted," she replies mechanically, turning as if that's all there was to say.
But I reach out, lightly grasping her arm. "Wait, please." It's a plea, raw and unguarded. "I need you to hear me out."
She hesitates, and I can see the internal struggle playing out behind her stoic gaze. Finally, she nods, granting me this chance—a chance I can't afford to waste.
"I've been trying to provoke you into...into something," I admit, my hands clenching at my sides. "But I realize now it's not working. It’s not what I want."
"Then what do you want, Austin?" Her voice is steady, but there's a tremor beneath it that only I would recognize—one that tells me she’s not as unaffected as she appears.
I take a deep breath, knowing that what I say next might change everything. "I'm scared of losing you," I confess, the words tasting of vulnerability. "And I don’t know how to fix things."
For a moment, silence hangs heavy between us. Then she steps back, her gaze softening just slightly, as if my honesty has chipped away at her defenses.
"Being scared doesn’t give you the right to be a jerk," she says quietly, but there's a note of understanding in her voice that wasn't there before.
"I know, and I'm truly sorry." My throat tightens as I add, "I don't want to lose you, Skylar."
There’s a long pause where neither of us moves. The distance feels like miles rather than feet. She watches me, examining my face for sincerity, and I let her look—I let her see the fear, the regret, all laid bare.
"Okay," she finally murmurs, a word that feels like the first step on a bridge over an abyss. "Let's talk."
I watch her face, trying to read the thoughts swirling behind those guarded hazel eyes. She crosses her arms, a clear line of defense, and leans back against the cool wall, putting space between us.
"It was just sex," Skylar declares, her voice firm but lacking its usual sharpness. "We both got what we needed. End of story."
The words sting, a slap of denial that I know isn't true. She's pushing me away, retreating into that shell where she believes she's safe from the complications of emotions. But I see the flicker in her gaze—the one that speaks of something deeper, something she's too stubborn to admit.
"Don't do this," I say, stepping closer, determined to breach the distance she's so expertly placed between us. "It wasn't just sex. Not for me, and I don’t believe it was for you either."
She turns her head, refusing to meet my stare, and I take another step, close enough now that I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. "Look at me."
Reluctantly, she complies, and in that moment, with our eyes locked, I let down my walls. "I'm scared," I confess, the words coming out in a rush. "Scared to let you in. Scared to lose control, scared to lose...you."
Her expression softens, but she remains silent, giving me the space to continue.
"Everything in my life has always been about maintaining order, control. With you, I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, and every moment with you is a step closer to falling." My voice breaks, but I push through. "And yet, here I am, telling you that despite the fear, despite not knowing how this could ever work, I'm afraid of things not working out and losing you anyway."
She gasps softly, and I wonder if she realizes how much it costs me to reveal these insecurities. The CEO, the man who commands boardrooms and bends deals to his will, is laying himself bare before the woman who's managed to unravel him.
"Sky," I say, my tone softer, imploring, "I need you to understand that I've never felt this way before. I'm not asking you to decide anything now. I just want you to know the truth."
There's a vulnerability in admitting this, in acknowledging that the power she holds over me is unlike anything I've ever experienced. And yet, as I stand here, stripped of the armor I've always worn, there's an odd sense of freedom in the honesty of the moment.
Now, it's up to her to decide whether to step off the ledge with me or turn back to solid ground. But either way, I've finally spoken the truth, and that alone feels like a victory.
I close the distance between us with a step that feels like crossing into a new world. My hands lift to cup her face, my thumbs tracing the sharp curve of her cheekbones. She doesn't pull away, and her stillness is an invitation I can't refuse.
My lips meet hers in a kiss that's gentle, a question rather than a demand. The softness surprises me, an emotion like hope or maybe something even more terrifying blooming in my chest. It's raw and undefined, but it anchors me to her in a way that nothing else has.
Skylar kisses me back, her lips tentative against mine, as if she's not sure she should be doing this. But she is, and her hesitation tugs at something inside me. I feel her walls, sense her holding back, and it only makes me want to draw her out more, to show her it's safe here with me.
"Sky," I murmur against her mouth, pulling back just enough to see her. Her eyes are a storm of emotion. "The ball's in your court. But I want you to know, I want this. I want you. Even if it means sharing you with Theo and Cohen."
It's a concession that rips through my need for exclusivity, for control. But when it comes to Skylar, I'm starting to realize that the usual rules don't apply. She's under my skin, a constant pulse in my veins that's rewriting the script of what I thought I knew.
Her breath catches, and she looks at me like she's seeing someone new. Maybe she is. Maybe we both are. There's no going back from this moment, from this admission that shakes the foundation of who I am.
"Say something," I urge softly, needing to hear her voice, to understand what's churning behind those guarded eyes.
But she doesn't speak, and the silence stretches between us, heavy with possibilities and fears. I've laid my cards on the table, bared a part of my soul I didn't even know was there. Now, it's up to her to decide how this game ends.
I study her face, the way she bites down on her lower lip, the indecision flickering in her eyes. She's still holding back, and that ice around her heart hasn't melted yet. But I can't let her walk away now, not when everything is at stake.
"Skylar," I start, my voice steady despite the tumult inside me. "I don't want you to just be a passing part of our lives." My hands find hers, fingers entwining as if they could convey what words might not. Her skin is warm against mine, a stark contrast to the coolness of her gaze.
"You're more than that, more than just a nanny to Lucas and Elodie." The mention of the kids seems to soften something in her, a subtle shift in her posture that tells me I'm getting through, bit by fragile bit. "You've become a part of our family, a part we can't afford to lose."
The room feels too big around us, every inch echoing with the gravity of this moment. Her presence fills all that space, commanding, undeniable. God, how did I ever think I could walk away from this woman?
"I want you to stay, Skylar," I say, letting the truth of my words sink in for both of us. "Not out of obligation, not because of the kids. But because you belong here—with us, with me. As a permanent part of our lives."
There's a vulnerability in laying this bare, a crack in my armor I never thought I'd reveal. But with Skylar, the risk feels worth it. Maybe even necessary. She's the chaos to my order, the question mark at the end of a sentence I thought I had punctuated long ago.
"Think about it," I whisper, my thumb brushing across her knuckles. "Really think about what it could mean, for all of us."
I look into her eyes and I know I've hit a nerve. Good. Because if there's one thing I've learned from dealing with Skylar Deveraux, it's that she doesn't back down from a challenge. And neither do I.