21. OLIVIA
CHAPTER 21
OLIVIA
I’m pacing the small stretch of carpet in my room when my phone rings. The name flashing on the screen makes my stomach tighten: Ian, my managing director. I let it buzz in my hand for a moment, trying to steel myself.
I swipe to answer. "Hi, Ian."
“Olivia, good morning,” Ian’s voice is calm and professional, but there’s an edge of urgency to it. “I wanted to check in. The potential buyer for Death Crunch Studios needs a final answer by the end of the day.”
I stop pacing and sink into the edge of the bed, the weight of his words pressing on my chest. "Right, of course," I say, but my voice sounds distant even to my own ears.
“Did you even check the details? I sent it to you last week.”
“I did,” I lie. “But I was kind of caught up. Can you remind me real quick?”
Ian launches into a summary of the offer: impressive numbers, an even more impressive potential payout. It’s the kind of deal I should be thrilled about. But as he speaks, I barely hear him. My mind drifts.
This past month has been nothing like I expected. Coming back to my hometown was supposed to be a brief escape—a chance to clear my head and reconnect with my roots. Instead, it’s been chaos.
But through all of it, something else has happened—something I didn’t anticipate. I’ve reconnected with a piece of myself I thought I’d lost—the creator, the dreamer, the part of me that started Death Crunch Studios in the first place.
Ian is still talking, something about logistics and next steps. I interrupt him gently. "Ian, can I call you back in a little bit?"
"Of course," he says, though I can hear the slight disappointment in his tone. “But don’t wait too long. They’ll need the answer today.”
“I’ll call you soon,” I promise before ending the call.
I set my phone down and stare at the wall, letting my thoughts swirl. The truth is, the idea of selling Death Crunch Studios has always felt wrong. It’s more than just a company to me—it’s my baby, my legacy. I remember those sleepless nights in the early days, hunched over my laptop in my tiny Austin apartment, fueled by cheap coffee and sheer determination.
Death Crunch isn’t just a business. It’s who I am. And I’m not ready to let it go.
Decision made, I grab my phone and text Ian. I’m not selling. Let’s talk strategy for moving forward instead. The moment I hit send, I feel lighter.
But with that clarity comes another realization—one I’ve been trying to ignore. As much as I care about Marcus, Ethan, and Jax, I can’t stay here. My feelings for them are real, but they’re also impossible. I can’t choose between them; staying would only worsen things.
I need to refocus on my business and my goals. I need to go back to Austin.
The thought is like a knife to the chest, but it’s also freeing in a way. Maybe, someday, things will make more sense. But for now, I know what I need to do.
I stand, grabbing my notebook and pen. If I’m leaving, I need to plan how to tie up the loose ends here. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll find the courage to tell them goodbye.
After a day of contemplation, I realize I don’t have a choice. I have to do this face-to-face. So, I invite all three of them to dinner at my place. Later, I wonder if they’re even going to bother showing up.
But still I prepare.
“If nothing else, you and I are going to have a great date night,” I tell Clawdia who hisses in response.
The table is set: plates stacked neatly, wine glasses polished, and a bottle of something red and strong breathing on the counter. I glance around my small dining area for the tenth time in as many minutes, smoothing invisible wrinkles on the tablecloth.
The doorbell rings, snapping me out of my spiral. My heart leaps, but I paste on a neutral expression and head for the door. Ethan is first, holding a bottle of wine and wearing a curious mix of confusion and apprehension on his face.
“Hey,” he says, stepping inside. His eyes roam over me briefly, like he’s assessing my mood. “What’s this all about?”
“Just wait,” I reply cryptically, ushering him toward the table.
Not five minutes later, the second knock comes. Jax. He strides in like he owns the place, carrying a bouquet of flowers that he immediately places in my hands. “Thought this was just us,” he says, frowning slightly as he spots Ethan.
“Patience,” I murmur, brushing past him to put the flowers in water.
Marcus arrives last. He steps through the doorway, scanning the room like he’s bracing for bad news. His gaze lands on Ethan and Jax, and his jaw tightens. “What’s going on, Olivia?”
“Dinner,” I say lightly, though my voice wavers. “And wine. Lots of wine.”
They exchange glances but take their seats. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and as I pour the first round of wine, I can feel their eyes on me, trying to decode what’s happening.
We eat in near silence at first, the occasional clink of cutlery breaking the quiet. It isn’t until the second bottle of wine is halfway drained that they start talking—at each other, not with me.
“Seriously, why are we all here?” Jax asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
“You keep asking yourself that,” Ethan says, folding his arms. “I’m here because she wanted me here.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Jax replies.
“Guys—” I start weakly but it’s of no use. Jax and Ethan are glaring down at each other.
“This isn’t a competition,” Jax says.
“Yeah? Then why don’t you take your head out of your ass for once and?—”
“This is ridiculous,” Marcus says.
“Marcus, please,” Ethan says, shooting him a glare. “Don’t act like you’re above this. You’re just as guilty of playing the game.”
“I don’t play games,” Marcus snaps, his voice low and deadly. “Unlike you two, I actually care about Olivia.”
“Oh, and we don’t?” Jax shoots back, his jaw tightening.
“Enough!” I shout, slamming my hands down on the table. The sound startles all three of them into silence, and for a moment, I can’t believe it actually worked.
“I asked you all here because I have something to tell you,” I start, my heart pounding. “I’ve decided to move back to Austin.”
The reactions are immediate. Jax leans back in his chair, his jaw tightening. Marcus’s expression darkens, his hand still on his wine glass. Ethan’s brow furrows as he leans forward.
“You’re leaving?” Ethan says, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Just like that?”
“It’s not ‘just like that,’” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “This was never meant to be a permanent stay. I have a company to run, and this... everything here is too complicated.”
“Complicated?” Jax echoes, his voice low. “Or inconvenient?”
“Come on, Jax,” Marcus interjects. “Let her explain.”
“I think she just did,” Jax snaps.
“Guys, stop,” I say, holding up my hands. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I can’t keep... doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m being pulled in three different directions.”
The room is silent for a moment, and I think I’ve said my piece. But then Ethan, who’s been unusually quiet, clears his throat.
“I have an idea,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a strange calmness.
“Ethan, don’t,” Marcus warns, his tone sharp.
“No, hear me out,” Ethan says, his gaze fixed on me. “Why leave when you can have us all?”
I blink at him, sure I’ve misheard. “What?”
“Yeah,” Ethan says, his voice gaining confidence. “Like a quad—a polyamorous quad. I’ve read about it. We could just... explore it.”
My mouth drops open, and I glance around the room. Marcus looks like he wants to strangle Ethan, and Jax’s expression is somewhere between amused and incredulous.
“Are you insane?” I finally manage to say.
“Think about it,” Ethan presses. “No more choosing, no more drama. We all like you. You like us—don’t deny it. This way, everyone wins.”
“This isn’t some rom-com fantasy,” I snap. “This is real life.”
“Exactly,” Ethan says. “And real life doesn’t have to fit into some neat little box.”
I stare at him, completely at a loss for words. This is ridiculous. Absurd. And yet... a tiny, treacherous part of me wonders if it could actually work.
Ethan stands up, his expression calm but his eyes intense as they lock onto mine. He holds out a hand toward me, palm open, inviting. “We don’t have to go all the way,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s start small. You kiss us and see if you like it.”
“This is crazy,” I say again, but my voice wavers.
“Maybe,” Ethan admits, his lips curving into a faint smile. “But sometimes, crazy works.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but before I can stop myself, I step forward and place my hand in his.
Ethan’s eyes darken, his fingers curling around mine. “Let’s start small,” he says again, his voice a low murmur.
I glance at Jax and Marcus, who are both watching intently, their expressions unreadable.
My heart pounds as Ethan leans in, his breath warm against my skin. “Whenever you’re ready,” he whispers.
And somehow, against all logic, I find myself tilting my head up to meet him halfway.