Chapter 25
Sierra
Istand outside for what feels like hours, waiting for Reid to come back.
He went after Talon, and I almost followed them, but in the end, I stay where I was.
Talon would probably hate seeing me right now, and Reid wouldn’t be much better—especially if I told him what actually happened between Talon and me… and Luke.
It’s all a mess, and I feel sick with it, like everything is my fault.
Because it is.
I don’t even know what they were fighting about, but everyone looked shocked, which means it’s not something that happens.
Key said he’s never seen Luke like that before, though he had noticed he’s been more on edge the past couple of days.
I noticed it too, but I brushed it off. I don’t even know what I thought it was. Something harmless. Not this.
The common factor here is me. I’m the one who’s thrown a wrench into the works. Everything was fine until I came along. What did I do? I slept with all three of them—three men who are, or were, friends with each other. What did I think was going to happen?
To be fair, it wasn’t malicious. It’s not like I planned it, not consciously.
I didn’t sit there and map it out like some kind of disaster waiting to happen.
But I should have known. I should have seen where this could lead.
Luke might be the kind of guy who can separate sex from everything else, but Talon isn’t.
With him, it meant something. I felt that.
If he found out about Luke, that could have been enough to push him over the edge.
Though Luke seemed like the one driving most of the fight.
Maybe it was retaliation. Maybe it was something else entirely.
I don’t know. All I know is that none of this would have happened if I’d just kept things under control.
“What have you done, Sierra?” I murmur, just as footsteps approach behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Amanda pushes open the door and pauses there, framed in the doorway, sunlight outlining her petite figure. She smiles and steps toward me.
“Looks like you could use a friendly face right now. Want to go for a short walk—get some fresh air and sunshine?”
“I don’t think so. Thanks.”
“Oh, come on, Sierra,” she says, still smiling, but there’s a hint of firmness beneath it now. “You’ve had a rough morning and you’re spiraling a bit. That’s normal. But sitting here stewing in it isn’t going to help. Fresh air might.”
“Yeah… okay. I guess you’re right.”
She links her arm through mine, and we head down one of the tracks. It winds through a patch of juniper bushes, dark berries against the bright green leaves, then slopes upward toward a small stand of old pines.
We walk in silence for a few minutes before we come to a small clearing with a view across the valley to distant mountains.
I have no idea which ones. Luke or Reid might know.
Talon definitely would. Amanda sits down on an old log that’s been chainsawed into a rough bench facing the view, and I sit beside her.
We stare out across the landscape. A large black bird—crow, maybe, or a raven—glides lazily past. The sun is warm against my skin.
Eventually, Amanda clears her throat. I glance over to find her watching me, a thoughtful, slightly quizzical expression on her face.
“Okay,” she says finally. “You want to tell me what’s really going on in that head of yours, or are you planning to sit there and quietly torture yourself all day?”
I let out a breath that almost turns into a laugh, but not quite. “I think I’ve already made a solid start on the second option.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” She gives a small snort. “You’ve got that whole ‘I’ve ruined everything’ vibe going on.”
I look away, focusing on the distant mountains. “Because I have.”
Amanda’s arm tightens slightly around mine, not pulling me back, just holding me there. “Have you?” she asks, calm but direct. “Or are you just assuming that because it feels dramatic enough to be true?”
I frown. “They were fighting, Amanda. Actually fighting. That doesn’t just happen out of nowhere.”
“No,” she agrees. “It doesn’t. But it also doesn’t happen because of one person alone. You didn’t make them do anything.”
“I might as well have,” I mutter. “If I hadn’t… if I’d just kept things under control—”
“Under control?” She lets out a short breath, not quite a laugh. “They’re grown men, Sierra. Not toddlers you’re supposed to supervise. Whatever they did, they chose to do.”
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t set it in motion.”
“Maybe you did,” she says, and there’s a little more edge in her voice now. “But that still doesn’t make you the sole cause of everything that followed. You’re giving yourself a lot of credit there.”
I run a hand through my hair. “You don’t get it.”
Amanda turns to face me fully. “Then help me get it.”
I shake my head, frustration bubbling up. “I came here to do a job. That was it. Get what I needed, keep things professional, leave. Instead, I—” I cut myself off, swallowing hard. “I crossed every line there was to cross.”
“And?”
“And now look at what’s happened.”
Amanda studies me for a moment, her expression softening just slightly, though the firmness doesn’t leave her voice. “What’s happened is that a few people made some messy choices and now they have to deal with the consequences. That’s life. It’s not the end of the world.”
“It might be for them,” I say quietly.
“And you think removing yourself from the equation is going to magically fix everything?” she asks.
I hesitate, because I don’t actually know the answer. But it feels right. It feels like the only thing I can do.
“It’ll stop me making it worse,” I say at last.
Amanda watches me for a long second, then exhales slowly. “Or,” she says, a little more bluntly now, “it’ll just be you running away because you feel guilty and don’t want to sit in the fallout.”
The words land harder than I expect.
I flinch, even though I try not to show it. “That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” she cuts in, not unkind, but not backing down either. “Look, I’m not saying this isn’t messy. It is. But you’re acting like you’ve destroyed lives here, and that’s just not true. You’re not that powerful.”
I stare at her, stung. “That’s not what I—”
“No,” she says, gentler now, “what you are is human. You made choices, and so did they. That’s it. It doesn’t make you some kind of villain.”
I swallow, but the tightness in my chest doesn’t ease. If anything, it digs in deeper.
Because I don’t believe her.
“I still shouldn’t have done it,” I say quietly.
Amanda’s shoulders drop a fraction, like she can see she’s not getting through. “Maybe not,” she concedes. “But ‘shouldn’t have’ and ‘everything is ruined forever’ are not the same thing.”
I don’t answer.
There’s nothing I can say that doesn’t feel like I’m making excuses.
We sit there for another moment, the silence stretching between us, heavier now than before.
Eventually, Amanda gives a small shake of her head and stands up. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s head back.”
I nod, getting to my feet and falling into step with her again, but the conversation keeps echoing in my head.
She thinks I’m overreacting.
Maybe I am.
But it doesn’t change how it feels.
And it doesn’t change what I need to do.
Later that afternoon, I’m in my room, out on the balcony with my laptop on my knee. I’m trying to write, but the words won’t come. I sigh, wondering whether to give up for the day, when there’s a knock at my door.
When I open it, Key is there, smiling. He’s carrying a tray with a bowl of what looks like leek and potato soup and a few slices of bread.
“Thought you might be hungry,” he says, offering it to me. “You didn’t get breakfast this morning, what with everything going on, and I didn’t see you at lunch either.”
I’m not hungry. Not even close. But I take the tray anyway, forcing a small smile, and let him follow me inside. “Thanks.”
“So,” he says, dropping into one of the armchairs, “you must be feeling pretty guilty right now, huh?”
I nod automatically, then freeze. “How—”
“Luke figured you might be,” Key says before I can finish. “He called. Said he’s okay. Said it’s not your fault.”
I stare at him. “He… called you?”
Key nods, and something twists in my chest. Even now, after everything, Luke is thinking about me. Trying to make sure I’m okay. That doesn’t make this better. If anything, it makes it worse.
“I’m such a bitch,” I mutter under my breath. “Did he tell you…”
Key shakes his head. “Didn’t need to. I can guess. Classic love triangle situation, right?”
I let out a tired breath. “Something like that.”
“Yeah. I could see Luke liked you as soon as you got here. Thought if anything kicked off, it’d be him and Reid, though—not him and Tal.”
“Reid?”
“Yeah. You didn’t notice the way he looked at you that first morning? You and Luke laughing over breakfast? I thought Reid was about two seconds from hauling him across the table.”
Oh. I hadn’t realized it was that obvious. Now I’m wondering who else saw it.
“There’s nothing going on between Reid and me,” I say.
“Sure,” Key replies, in a tone that says he doesn’t believe me.
“Look, I don’t blame you. Honestly, if I thought for a second any of them were into guys, I’d have gone for it too.
If everyone knew what they were getting into, you didn’t do anything wrong.
They don’t get to lose their minds over it. Men. Testosterone. Whole mess.”
“Maybe,” I say quietly. “But I wasn’t supposed to do anything with them. I’m a guest. They run this place. There are rules.”
“It’s a stupid rule.”
“Maybe. But if I’d followed it, none of this would have happened.”
And that’s the part that sticks.
Key stays with me a while longer, talking, trying to lighten things, eating most of the bread himself. I try to respond, try to act like I’m okay, but I’m not. Nothing he says changes that, because none of it takes away what I’ve done.
The guilt doesn’t fade. It builds, slow and heavy, pressing in until it feels like I can’t breathe properly. This was never supposed to happen. I came here for a reason—to get what I needed—and I have it now. The footage. The story. Everything I came for.
And all I’ve done since is make things worse. For them. For me. For all of us.
I can’t stay here. Not after this. Not when staying means dragging this out even further. Not when leaving might be the only way to stop making things worse.
I draw in a slow breath, steadying myself. All good things come to an end—even the ones you didn’t expect to mean anything.
It’s time for me to go.