Chapter 21
Mia
I walk back to my room on legs that barely feel like they belong to me. The hallway is quiet, the guests downstairs a distant murmur. I open the door and close it softly behind me, leaning against the wood for a long moment as if it might hold me up.
In the span of forty-eight hours, I found something I never thought possible. I found warmth, belonging, three men who saw me—not as a kid, not as someone to be protected or pitied, but as a woman they wanted. I felt desired, cared for, even loved in ways I can’t explain.
And just as quickly, it’s all gone. Not just Alexander or Tyler or Marcus, but all of them. Even Sarah, my best friend since childhood, can’t look at me anymore.
Any hope I had of making things right with her is gone. I clung to that, even when everything else was slipping. Now I see the truth in her silence. Whatever forgiveness I thought might be possible has vanished.
The ache in my chest is a hollow, twisting thing. I sit on the edge of the bed, running my fingers over the apology letter I never got to give Sarah, thinking about the promises whispered in the dark that now feel a lifetime away. The space beside me is empty and cold.
I lie back, eyes open, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. In just two days, I found a piece of myself I didn’t know was missing. And now, all I can do is mourn it.
After a while, sitting on the bed just hurts. I peel off my clothes and slip into the bathroom, filling the tub with steaming water and lavender salts. The heat is almost scalding as I sink down, arms wrapped around my knees, hair floating around my face.
The room is quiet except for the slow, hollow drip of water from the faucet. I let my head rest back, staring at the ceiling, letting the ache settle into my bones.
Everything rewinds in my mind, sharp and relentless. The dizzy high of being wanted by all three brothers. The sense of belonging. The trust I thought I’d found.
But as the steam curls around me, anger starts to bubble beneath the heartbreak. They didn’t come clean about the scandal—none of them. They let me walk around this lodge, clueless, thinking I was part of some team, when they’d been covering up the foundation mess for weeks.
Of course Alexander knew. I saw it with my own eyes, the look on his face early this morning when Jason tried to blackmail him outside the lodge. The tightness in his jaw, the way he shut down, wouldn’t look me in the eye.
And then when my dad confronted them, they just…left. They didn’t fight for me. They let him decide I was off-limits, let him pull me away like I was a child with no say in my own life. If I meant anything to them, why did they just walk out? Not even a protest, not even a promise. Just—done.
Was anything ever real to them? Or did I just make it up, thinking we were building something more than a weekend distraction, more than a pretty story for them to tell each other when I’m gone?
I hug my knees tighter, furious and hurting and so tired of being left in the dark. All I wanted was someone to fight for me. Instead, I got secrets, silence, and a door quietly closing behind me.
The water cools around me, but I don’t move. I just sit there, stewing in the mess of everything I wanted, everything I lost.
I dry off, pull on a thick bathrobe, and pad barefoot to the window.
I was in the tub for hours, and the sun is already setting.
The snow is falling hard again, swirling past the lamplight in silent sheets.
Tomorrow is Sarah’s wedding, and somewhere downstairs there’s still noise and laughter, maybe last-minute drama, but up here everything feels like a world away.
Part of me wants to pack a bag and slip out, just disappear, but there’s no way I’m going anywhere in this weather.
I think maybe I’ll just stay holed up until it’s over.
That’s when I hear a knock at the door. I freeze, heart pounding. The last thing I need right now is Jason coming to gloat or harass me. I wrap my robe tighter and do my best to ignore it.
But the knock comes again, more insistent. After a moment, curiosity and dread force me to move. I crack the door, ready to snap at whoever it is.
It’s Sarah.
She’s standing in the hall, hair a little messy, makeup smudged, eyes glassy. She looks both beautiful and wrecked, her hands twisting the strap of her tiny purse. She’s so visibly drunk I can smell the sharp tang of wine on her breath.
She looks up at me, blinking. “Can I come in?” she asks, voice small and lost.
I hesitate, then nod and open the door wider. She slips past me, almost stumbling, and sinks onto the edge of the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest, her legs swinging slightly off the edge of the bed. She lets out a long sigh, pressing her forehead to the pillow for a second before speaking.
“I just couldn’t take it anymore,” she says, her voice muffled but honest. “The bridesmaids were getting on my nerves. Everyone’s talking like they know everything, and all I wanted was a quiet room and some air. You know how it is.”
I smile, just a little, memories of us hiding from birthday parties in closets and kitchens coming back. “They can be…a lot,” I say, trying to keep it light.
She laughs, the sound a little too brittle. “I wanted to scream. They’re obsessed with drama—especially with you. Every time I left the table, it was Mia this, Mia that.”
I groan, sinking onto the bed next to her. “I’m sorry. I think I’m the official scandal of the wedding.”
She gives a wobbly smile. “At least you’re not boring.”
We sit together in a silence that isn’t quite comfortable, but it isn’t angry either.
I clear my throat, the weight of everything catching up to me.
“Sarah, about the kitchen…the desserts. I’m sorry.
I never meant to ruin anything. And all the stuff about the embezzlement—about the foundation—I swear I had no idea.
I would never…I just want you to know that. ”
Sarah stays quiet for a while, staring at the pattern on the comforter. I think maybe she’s not going to answer, but finally she says, “I don’t believe it either. About the guys, I mean. I know my uncles. They aren’t perfect, but they aren’t thieves.”
I look at her, surprised by how sure she sounds, but she’s still hugging the pillow, eyes shining a little too bright. She’s torn, I can feel it. There are a hundred things I want to say, but I hold back. She’s raw, unsteady. Tonight isn’t the time to push.
Instead, I nudge her knee with mine. “You want to order room service and talk shit about the wedding for a while?”
She smiles, finally, the edge of something like hope breaking through. “God, yes. Please.”
I call down to the front desk for food, figuring neither of us will sleep tonight.
Within half an hour, a parade of staff appears with trays: grilled cheese sandwiches, bowls of soup, fruit, tiny pastries, a bottle of wine, even chocolate.
By the time the last server leaves, the bed is practically covered.
Sarah laughs for the first time all evening, grabbing a strawberry and tossing it at me. “This is excessive, Mia. You’re going to get me in trouble with the zipper on my dress tomorrow.”
I snort, catching the strawberry and popping it in my mouth. “If you can’t overeat the night before your wedding, when can you?”
She giggles and pours us both a glass of wine, clinking her glass against mine. For a little while, we just eat and talk—about nothing, about everything, about the old days. It almost feels like we’re kids again, hiding out in some hotel room, sneaking snacks and whispering secrets.
She grins, then scoops up a handful of fries. “Seriously, Mia, do you remember that time we locked ourselves in your dad’s office and tried to bake a cake in the microwave?”
I groan. “And set the fire alarm off. He was so mad.”
“We almost burned down the whole house,” Sarah says, then sighs, her smile fading a little. “Things were so much easier then.”
“Yeah,” I say, softer, picking at a corner of grilled cheese. “Everything felt simple. I wish I could go back sometimes.”
After a while, Sarah leans back against the headboard and gives me a sideways look. “Okay, so…can I ask you something without you biting my head off?”
I swallow, wary. “Go for it.”
She sips her wine. “Am I crazy, or did it seem like my uncles were all…interested in you? Not just the usual overprotective uncle stuff, either. Like—interested interested.” She makes a face, half-laughing, half-serious.
I nearly choke on my drink. I open my mouth, searching for the right words, the truth bubbling up and burning on my tongue.
Sarah takes another sip of wine, then sets the glass down and looks at me, her voice a little unsteady. “You know, Jason told me you disappeared last night with the three of them.” She hiccups, rolling her eyes.
My stomach drops, but I say nothing, just fiddling with my napkin. Of course Jason’s been talking shit about me. That’s how he works.
Sarah gives a little snort. “I told him he got it wrong. I said you wouldn’t do anything shady behind my back. You’re my best friend.”
I meet her eyes, guilt and relief mixing in my chest. “Thanks for believing in me. Even when I make it really hard.”
She shrugs, snuggling deeper into the pillows. “I know you, Mia. I don’t care what Jason says.”
For a moment, I want to spill everything, tell her exactly what happened. I open my mouth. “Sarah, I—”
There’s another knock at the door.
Sarah looks at me, eyebrows raised. “You expecting someone else?”
My heart skips, nerves jangling. “No idea,” I say, my confession cut short as we both turn toward the door.
I open the door to find Jason standing in the hallway, his usual smirk already curling on his lips. “Well, well, Mia, you sure like company at all hours, don’t you—”
He peers past me and his eyes widen in surprise when he spots Sarah sprawled on the bed, wineglass in hand. He clearly didn’t expect to find her here. His face twists with annoyance.
“What are you doing here?” he demands.
Sarah frowns, unfazed. “What are you doing in Mia’s room, Jason?”
Jason falters for a split second, caught off guard. He glances from Sarah to me, searching for a way out. For a moment, he just stares, mouth opening and closing. Then, in typical Jason fashion, he recovers, plastering on a fake smile.
“I was just looking for you, Sarah. It’s late, and you need to get some rest. The wedding is tomorrow, remember?” He shoots me a look, then tries to sound authoritative. “Come on, let’s go.”
Sarah sets her glass down with a thud and crosses her arms. “If I want to have a drink with my best friend, I will. It’s my wedding too.”
Jason tries to protest, but Sarah stands up and walks over, pushing him gently but firmly out of the doorway. “Goodnight, Jason.”
Before he can argue, she slams the door in his face. The sound echoes in the room, leaving a ringing silence behind.
Sarah lets out a shaky breath, then looks at me and grins. “He really hates not getting his way.”
I can’t help but laugh, a real laugh for the first time in days. “Yeah, but you’re a lot tougher than he thinks.”
Sarah and I dissolve into helpless giggles, the sound echoing in the little room.
She slides down until she’s sitting with her back against the door, clutching her stomach, breathless from laughter.
On the other side, Jason pounds and shouts, his voice muffled and indignant, but for once we don’t care.
For a few perfect moments, it’s just us—two friends on the same side again, pushing back at the world.
Eventually, Sarah crawls into bed next to me, stealing half the covers, her hair tangled, her eyes glassy but happy. We whisper for a while, sharing old stories and secrets, until her breathing slows and she falls asleep.
I lie awake beside her, staring at the ceiling, listening to the snow tick against the window. I keep hoping she’ll wake up in the morning and decide not to go through with it. I hope for a miracle.
But when sunlight finally creeps across the floor, Sarah is already awake, eyes bright with nervous energy. She stands and stretches, all business again.
“Well,” she says, forcing a brave smile, “I guess it’s time to get ready for the wedding. Get your party dress on, girlfriend, and then come help me.”
Something tightens in my chest. I want to argue, to beg her to reconsider, but I know it’s useless now. Instead, I just nod, and smile, and let her pull me to my feet.
It hurts that nothing has changed. Still, as we gather our things and move into the morning together, I’m grateful for one small mercy: at least Sarah is talking to me again.
Even if it’s only because she needs her maid of honor, and even if her nerves are the only thing keeping us close for now.