Chapter 40 #2
But Fitz wasn’t finished. He shifted fully onto his knees in the sand, knocking his beer over without even noticing, and kept his gaze locked on Jack like he was saying something sacred.
“Jack, I couldn’t imagine marrying or fucking anyone but Charlie for the rest of time,” he said, his voice rough now, peeling down to the bone.
“And I know that puts us in a spot. I know I’m breaking our code, breaking our pact, and your trust. But at this point—” He paused, breathing hard, the moonlight catching the raw edges of his face.
“I am so irreversibly in love with your sister that I have to choose her. And I will always choose her—for the rest of my life.”
Silence crashed down, thick and final, as if the ocean itself had sucked all the air away.
Jazz blinked, mouth open.
Jack stared at Fitz like he didn’t recognize him for a second.
And me?—
I sat there, heart in my throat, every molecule in my body screaming it’s happening, it’s happening, it’s happening.
J ack didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t even blink for a long moment.
Just stared at Fitz like he was seeing the pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t even realized he was solving.
The only sound was the soft, constant hush of the waves behind us and the faint crackle of the fire pit, burning low.
Then—
Jack got to his feet. He paced a tight, aimless circle in the sand, kicking at a piece of driftwood, dragging a hand through his hair. Jazz shifted, glancing nervously between the two of them.
Fitz stayed perfectly still, hands loose at his sides, like he wouldn’t defend himself or fight back—he would just take whatever Jack needed to give him.
Finally Jack stopped, his back half-turned, staring out at the black stretch of ocean. “You’re serious,” he said quietly. Not a question. A statement .
“Yes,” Fitz said, just as quiet. “Dead serious.”
Jack laughed once—a sharp, disbelieving sound—and turned back around. “My sister, Fitz?” he said, voice raw at the edges. “You had the whole fucking world, and you want to blow it up for my little sister?”
Fitz’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t flinch. “I’m not blowing anything up,” he said. “I will build the world for her. With her.”
Another beat of silence.
Jazz squeezed my hand under the blanket, her eyes huge.
Jack looked at me then—really looked—and something broke loose in his face. Not anger. Not betrayal. Something softer. Something older.
“You love him?” Jack asked, voice rough.
It took me a second to find my voice, to push the words through the knot in my throat. “Yes,” I whispered. “I always have.”
Jack swore under his breath, scrubbed both hands down his face like he was trying to wake up from a crazy dream. Then—finally—he dropped his hands, blew out a breath, and gave a small, crooked smile.
“You better not fuck it up,” he said, pointing at Fitz. “Because if you hurt her, I’ll bury you in the dunes and no jury in Bellwater Cove will convict me.”
Fitz’s mouth curved into something small and fierce and real. “Understood,” he said simply.
And Jack—God bless him—grinned, wide and wicked. “Welcome to the family, dickhead.”
The dam broke then—Jazz squealing and hugging me, Fitz dragging me against his chest with a groan of relief—and even Jack laughed as he cracked open another beer and raised it in a toast to the stars .
And just like that—the last wall fell. The last secret broke open. And we were free.
W e finally staggered back to the Lemondrop Lane house close to two in the morning, drunk on beer and weed and relief.
Jazz kicked off her sandals somewhere by the front door and announced she was “too blessed to be stressed” before beelining upstairs. Jack paused in the upstairs hallway, still processing the entire night, still looking at Fitz like he couldn’t decide whether to hug him or punch him.
Then his face twisted into mock horror as Fitz casually slung an arm around my waist and nudged me toward my bedroom. “Wait—wait—hold up,” Jack said, pointing dramatically, his words slurring just slightly. “You’re about to fuck my sister.”
Fitz just grinned like the smug bastard he was. “I sure hope so, brother,” he said, voice low and easy. “But don’t worry—I’ll love her too.”
Jazz snorted behind Jack, tugging his hand, but Jack just shook his head in disbelief like he was witnessing the end of civilization.
“Keep the noise level down,” Jack muttered, defeated, disappearing into his own room.
Fitz squeezed my hip once, wicked and warm, then nudged the bedroom door closed with his foot behind us. We barely made it two steps before we collapsed onto the bed in a heap of exhausted, drunk laughter.
“Oh my God,” I wheezed into the pillow. “His face.”
Fitz laughed so hard he had to bury his face in the crook of my neck. “I thought he was going to demand a duel,” he said, voice muffled against my skin. “Or at least make me sign a waiver.”
We twisted together, tangled under the sheets, clothes still halfway on, Fitz’s jeans unbuttoned, my sweatshirt shoved up my stomach.
He pushed my hair back and kissed the tip of my nose, sobering slightly. “I can’t believe it’s all out now. No more hiding. No more lying. The biggest secret of my life just crumbled like a sandcastle at high tide.”
I nodded, stroking his jaw. “And it feels amazing. Who needs a castle when you have a cottage on Lemondrop Lane?”
He shifted, his thigh slipping between mine, his semi-hard cock pressing lightly against my hip. I could feel him—warm, pulsing, barely restrained. For a second we just laid there, breathing each other in, all that drunken affection simmering right under the surface.
Then he smirked. “You know, Jack didn’t forbid us to fuck. He just asked us to keep it down.”
I grinned, slipping my hand between us and palming him through his jeans.
“Mmm, maybe we should test our stealth skills,” I whispered.
Fitz growled low in his throat and rolled me underneath him in one smooth, heavy movement. His hands were everywhere—skimming under my sweatshirt, sliding down my thighs, kneading the flesh like he already owned it.
“You’re the best trouble,” he muttered against my mouth, kissing me slow and deep. “God, I fucking love you.”
I pulled his shirt over his head, breathing hard as I traced every inch of golden skin stretched over muscle, feeling the heat of him soak into me .
“You’re the best trouble,” I whispered back. “Falling for your best friend’s little sister. Scandalous.”
He kissed me again, harder now, his body grinding down against mine. “I’d scandalize you every fucking day if it means I get to keep you.”
I fumbled with the button on his jeans, laughing breathlessly into his mouth. “Keep me quiet, Whitmore,” I challenged, arching up into him, “if you can.”
His eyes darkened to slate as he slid my underwear down my legs, baring me completely, spreading my thighs wide with his hands.
Without breaking eye contact, he pushed two fingers inside me, curling slow and deep. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. “God, you’re so fucking wet already,” he groaned, his voice shredded with need.
I rocked against his hand shamelessly, biting my lip to keep from moaning too loud. His fingers worked me in slow, relentless strokes, dragging against that spot that made my toes curl, while his mouth kissed down my jaw, my neck, the tops of my breasts.
He pulled back just enough to look down at me—flushed and needy and squirming under him.
And then he shifted, sitting up against the pillows, his back braced against the headboard, legs open wide in invitation.
He dragged me up with him, his hands hot and steady on my waist, guiding me into his lap until I was straddling him, face-to-face, skin to skin.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in the mess of his hair as he slid his tip through my folds, slow and teasing, not pushing in yet—just letting the head dip into the heat, making both of us shudder.
He kissed me then, deep and slow, tasting of beer and salt and something I could never get enough of.
I rocked down against him, gasping when I felt the thick stretch of him parting me, filling me in one long, endless thrust until he was buried fully inside me, our bodies locked so tight it felt like we could fuse.
Fitz groaned low in his chest, forehead dropping to mine.
“I know we’re tired, baby,” he whispered, voice rough and reverent.
“And we’re gonna take our sweet time in the morning.
I’m gonna wake you up slow, kiss you everywhere you ache.
But for now—” He grinned against my mouth, devilish and wild. “Fuck Jack. Hold on.”
I barely had time to grab the headboard before he bucked his hips up into me, hard and deep, setting a brutal rhythm that had the whole fucking bed shaking, the headboard knocking loudly against the wall with every thrust.
The sound was reckless—a middle finger to the rules we’d spent our whole lives pretending to follow.
I bit into the side of his neck, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to keep from crying out, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling him groan helplessly under me.
His hands found my hips, squeezing tight, guiding my movements, but he didn’t let me take over. He fucked up into me, relentless, every thrust punching a whimper out of me I couldn’t quite swallow.
And then his hand slipped between us, fingers finding my clit with practiced precision, rubbing tight, perfect circles that made me fall apart even faster, the pleasure building sharp and hot under my skin.
“Come with me,” he rasped against my mouth, kissing me like he needed it to breathe. “Come, Charlie. I wanna feel you.”
I clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair, thighs shaking around his hips as the tension tingled its way through my core. The orgasm ripped through me, wrenching a moan from deep in my chest as I spasmed around him, dragging him right over the edge with me.
Fitz cursed, hips jerking wildly, holding me flush against him as he spilled inside me, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, both of us shuddering through it, clutching each other like we could slow time if we just held on hard enough.
The headboard knocked one last time, slower now, softer, like it was marking the moment for us.
We stayed like that for a long time—sticky and trembling, lips brushing, breath mingling—before he finally shifted, cradling me close to his chest. “Mine,” he murmured against my hair, so quiet I almost missed it.
But I heard it. And every part of me answered back.
Somewhere down the hall, we heard Jack’s muffled voice through the wall. “Not quiet, assholes,” he called. “But I’ll allow it, because she’s happy.”
Fitz kissed my temple, laughing under his breath. “Best fucking blessing I’ll ever get.” And I just smiled, hiding my face in his neck, finally, finally home.