Noah
I watch Linda's face transform like a time-lapse photograph of erosion.
Shock hits first, her brown eyes widening as she takes in the three of us standing in Mia's hallway.
Then disappointment settles into the lines around her mouth, pulling her features downward.
Finally, something that looks like resignation washes over her expression, and her shoulders sag like she's carrying a weight that just doubled.
Her gaze moves from Jack to Blake to me, cataloging our disheveled appearance with the precision of a prosecutor building a case. There's no hiding what we were doing here. No explaining away three men emerging from her daughter's bedroom at six in the morning.
"Mom." Mia's voice shakes as she tightens the belt of her robe. "What's wrong? Is Dad okay?"
Linda's hand trembles as she grips the doorframe. "I need to speak with you. Alone."
The word lands like a gavel striking wood. Final. Non-negotiable.
I want to argue. Want to stand beside her and face whatever Linda has to say together. Throughout history, dividing forces has always been the first step toward conquest. But the plea in Mia's expression stops me.
"We'll be in the bedroom," I say, my hand finding hers briefly. Her fingers are ice cold.
Jack looks like he wants to protest, his jaw tight with barely controlled frustration. Blake's hands clench at his sides. But we retreat down the hallway, leaving Mia alone with her mother.
The bedroom door closes with a soft click that sounds too much like a cell door locking. I lean against it, straining to hear the conversation happening in hushed, urgent tones in the kitchen.
"How could you?" Linda's voice rises slightly, carrying down the hallway. "Three men, Mia? Three?"
Blake paces like a caged animal, his athletic grace reduced to restless energy. "This is bullshit. Mia just can't catch a break."
Jack stands at the window, his broad shoulders rigid beneath his wrinkled shirt. The morning light catches the silver at his temples, making him look distinguished despite his disheveled state. "Her mother deserves answers. We all knew this conversation was coming eventually."
"Eventually isn't supposed to be at six in the morning," Blake mutters. "And not before we take care of the other problems."
The conversation in the kitchen continues, fragments drifting through like pieces of a broken mirror.
"Your father collapsed." Linda's voice cracks on the words. "After you and Jack left. The stress of learning about the twins, about what happened between you two. It triggered something. His heart couldn't take it."
My stomach drops like a stone thrown into deep water.
"Is he … " Mia's voice is barely audible.
"He's in the hospital. Stable for now, but refusing to see either of you. He won't even say your names." Linda's words carry the weight of a death sentence.
Jack's hands clench on the windowsill, his knuckles turning white. Blake stops pacing, his brown eyes meeting mine across the room. We all hear it. We all understand what it means.
"I never meant for this to happen," Mia says, her voice thick with tears. "I thought I could make things right. I thought I could reconcile with Dad before he died."
"By lying to him? By sleeping with his best friend and God knows who else?
" Linda's voice rises again. "Have you learned nothing from your past mistakes?
You ran away ten years ago because you couldn't face the consequences of your choices.
And now you're doing the same thing, just with more men involved. "
The accusation hangs in the air like smoke after an explosion. I glance at Jack, watching his jaw tighten with barely controlled anger. Blake's hands clench into fists at his sides.
"That's not fair," Mia protests. "You don't understand what we have."
"What you have?" Linda laughs, but there's no humor in it.
"What you have is a scandal waiting to destroy everyone involved.
Your father is in the hospital because of what you have.
Your job is gone because of what you have.
And these men, these good men who are foolish enough to care about you, they're all going to lose everything because of what you have. "
The words cut like a blade, sharp and precise. I want to burst through that door and tell Linda she's wrong. That what we have is real and worth fighting for. But the truth in her accusations roots me in place.
"I love them." Mia's voice is barely a whisper. "All of them."
"Love." Linda's voice softens slightly. "Love isn't supposed to destroy everything it touches, sweetheart. Love is supposed to build, to strengthen, to create something beautiful. What you have is chaos."
The silence that follows is deafening. I press my forehead against the door, my hands flat against the wood like I can somehow reach through and hold Mia together.
"You made your choice, Mia. You chose them over us.
Over your father's peace in his final days.
Over any chance of reconciliation." Linda's footsteps move toward the front door.
"I hope they're worth it. I hope when your father is gone, and you're left with the guilt, you can look at these men and believe it was worth the price. "
The front door opens, then closes with a finality that echoes through the apartment. Footsteps approach down the hallway, and then Mia appears in the bedroom doorway.
Her face is pale, her blue eyes red and swollen from crying. The robe hangs loose on her frame like she's shrinking inside it. When she sees us, her composure shatters completely.
I cross the room in three strides and catch her as her legs give out. She collapses into my arms, her body shaking with sobs that tear through her like earthquakes. I hold her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other wraps around her waist.
Jack and Blake move closer, their hands finding her shoulders, her back, creating a protective circle around her broken form.
"He collapsed," Mia gasps between sobs. "My father collapsed after we left. He's in the hospital, and he won't see me. Won't even say my name."
Jack's hand tightens on her shoulder. "I'll go to the hospital. I'll talk to him."
"He won't see you either." Mia pulls back slightly, wiping at her tears with shaking hands. "He hates us both. My mom said the stress could kill him. That learning about the twins, about us, it triggered something with his heart."
I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Your mother is scared and angry. She's watching her husband die and looking for someone to blame. But this isn't your fault, Mia. Your father's illness isn't your fault."
"She knows about us," Mia continues, her voice hollow. "About all three of you. She knows everything now."
The weight of that revelation settles over us like a heavy blanket. Linda knows. Robert knows. The school board suspects. Our secret is unraveling faster than we can contain it.
Jack runs his hand through his dark hair, making it stand up even more. "We have options. We can continue fighting for this relationship, consequences be damned. Or we can step back, give Mia space to reconcile with her father before it's too late."
"Step back?" Blake's voice rises. "You mean give up?"
"I mean protect her from further damage," Jack says firmly. "If our presence in her life is causing this much destruction, maybe the right thing to do is remove ourselves from the equation."
"No." Mia's voice is stronger now, fierce despite the tears still streaming down her face. "No, you don't get to make that decision for me. You don't get to decide what's best for me, just like you guys wouldn't let me leave."
I study her face, taking in the determination beneath the devastation. "Then what do you want?" I ask gently.
Before she can answer, my phone rings from the nightstand. The sound cuts through the tension like a knife. I consider ignoring it, but something makes me reach for it.
The school secretary's name flashes across the screen.
"I should take this," I say, already knowing it won't be good news. Nothing about this morning has been good news.
I answer, putting the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Mr. Young?" The secretary's voice is professional but strained. "I'm calling to inform you that Kyle Jorgenson's parents have filed a formal complaint with the school board."
My stomach drops like I've been pushed off a cliff. "A complaint about what?"
"They're claiming you've been harassing their son. Specifically, that you've been keeping him from working with his teacher, Mia Wilson."
The words don't make sense at first. Harassing Kyle?
"That's absurd," I say, my voice tight.
"The parents claim otherwise." The secretary's tone suggests she doesn't believe it either, but she's required to relay the information.
"They say you, along with Coach Morgan and Principal Lewis, have been conspiring to keep Kyle away from Miss Wilson.
That you've been threatening him, intimidating him, and creating a hostile environment. "
Jack's eyes narrow as he watches me, reading my expression. Blake moves closer, his protective instincts kicking in.
"This is ridiculous," I say, but my mind is already racing through the implications. Kyle is escalating. Creating a narrative where he's the victim and we're the aggressors.
"There's more," the secretary continues, and I hear the reluctance in her voice.
"Kyle has provided the school board with detailed journals documenting every interaction.
He claims to have been keeping records for months, noting dates, times, and specific incidents where you three allegedly harassed him. "
My hand tightens on the phone. "Journals?"
"Yes. And photographs." The secretary pauses. "Mr. Young, Kyle claims to have photographic evidence that proves you, Coach Morgan, and Principal Lewis have been conspiring against him. Evidence that allegedly shows you working together to keep him away from his teacher."
The emphasis on "his teacher" makes my skin crawl. Kyle isn't claiming a romantic relationship. He's claiming ownership. Possession. Like Mia is his property that we're trying to steal.