Chapter 5
five
. . .
Wick
I sucked in a deep breath, the spring air filling my lungs and clearing the fog from my mind. This was my favorite time of day, when the city was still waking up, and the only sound was the thump of my sneakers against the concrete.
Running had always been my escape, my way of processing the chaos of my thoughts and emotions. And God knows, I had plenty to process after last night.
But even as my muscles burned and my lungs screamed for air, I couldn’t shake the image of Meghan in Marco’s lap. The way he’d looked at her. The casual intimacy of his touch.
It made me want to put my fist through a wall.
I shook my head, disgusted with myself. Meghan was Emmett’s sister and one of my best friends, even if things had been a little weird between us. Romantic relationships never lasted, and I wouldn’t risk my friendship with either of them.
I’d been fighting my feelings for Meghan for years. Ever since she’d walked into that bar on her twenty-first birthday—all long legs and dazzling smile. She’d handed me my ass in beer pong, then danced like a lunatic with all her friends while I stood guard, protecting her from leering assholes with wandering hands.
It had been the first time since Beth that I felt something for a woman, and I immediately buried that shit deep. I refused to fuck things up with one of the few people on the planet I would take a bullet for.
Images flashed through my mind, taking me back more than a year ago—the day everything snapped into place—Meghan’s sleep-tousled hair, her silk robe clinging to her curves. The smirk on Marco’s face as he sauntered out of her bedroom like the cat who got the cream.
Fucking Marco.
“ What are you doing here?”
Meghan stood there holding the door open. She looked sleep-fogged and freshly fucked, but her expression was borderline panicked. Her silk robe barely covered her slender frame and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Forgot my own name.
All I could focus on was the way the morning light danced across her skin.
The faint flush on her cheeks.
The fullness of her lips, slightly parted in surprise.
My blood ran cold when a man strolled into the foyer—unbuttoned shirt revealing his toned chest—and confirmed that Meghan hadn’t spent the night alone.
I forced myself to look Meghan in the eyes, searching for answers I wasn’t sure I wanted to find. In that instant, the full force of my feelings for her hit me like a freight train.
How had I been so blind? Meghan wasn’t just my best friend’s little sister anymore. She was a woman—a breathtaking, complicated, captivating woman—and somewhere along the line, without me even realizing it, she’d captured my heart.
Standing there, croissants in hand, the puzzle pieces of our history clicked into place with sickening clarity. Every lingering glance, every inside joke, every late-night phone call when one of us needed a shoulder to cry on—it all carried deeper meaning now. A hidden truth I’d been too stubborn or too scared to acknowledge.
Molten jealousy seared through my veins at the mere thought of another man’s hands on her body. Another man’s lips trailing across her skin. Another man basking in the afterglow of her touch.
And not just any man—Marco fucking Rossi. The cocky bastard who’d just sauntered out of her bedroom like he owned the place.
I couldn’t even bring myself to hate him. Because in that brief interaction—that testosterone-fueled pissing contest masquerading as polite conversation—I’d seen something in Marco’s eyes.
Recognition.
A flicker of understanding. He saw right through my flimsy facade of brotherly concern and sensed the true nature of my feelings before I’d even processed them myself.
It was unnerving, being so transparently exposed to a virtual stranger. I wondered what Meghan saw in him, other than his obvious charm and rakish good looks.
And, fuck, does he look good.
The thought came out of left field. I swept it under my mental rug, along with all the other truths that were best left buried .
My jaw clenched at the memory, a fresh surge of jealousy rising in my chest. Meghan was a grown woman, free to sleep with whoever she damn well pleased. But seeing her with Marco stirred up something primal, something I’d been trying to ignore for too long.
The image of them together, tangled in her sheets, had burned itself into my brain. I thought about it more than I dared admit, and I couldn’t shake the weird thrill it sent through me.
I pushed myself harder. Tried to outrun the shame, the confusion, the want. But it stayed with me, step after step, a shadow I couldn’t shake.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I picked up my pace, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts as I pushed myself harder. Faster.
For years, I had done a great job distracting myself with endless flings. All in a futile attempt to outrun the inevitable. No matter how many distractions I sought out or how much time passed, I always came right back to her.
I slowed to a stop, my chest heaving as I braced my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath. The city was starting to come to life—joggers and dog walkers passing by with friendly nods, the distant hum of traffic growing louder as the morning rush began.
But even as the world carried on around me, I stayed frozen in place, paralyzed by indecision. No matter how I tried to rationalize it, there was no easy answer. Denying my feelings, watching her move on with someone else...the thought alone was enough to create a dull, hollow pain in my chest. I knew where Meghan stood—or, at least, I had six months ago. Now, I wasn’t so sure .
I looked out over the river as I tried to clear the doubts clouding my mind. After lingering for a beat, I turned away and finished my run back to my condo. Work would be a welcome distraction. There was always another deal to chase, another fire to put out. Anything to keep my mind from straying into forbidden territory.
I showered quickly, the hot water sluicing away the sweat but doing little to ease the tension in my muscles. As I dressed in my usual uniform of a crisp button-down and slacks, I caught my reflection in the mirror.
The face staring back at me was a mask of control, every line perfectly in place. But beneath the surface, I could see the cracks forming. The strain around my eyes, the tightness in my jaw. How much longer could I keep pretending?
I tore my gaze away. This wasn’t who I was. I was the guy who always had his shit together. The one people relied on to keep a level head in a crisis.
Squaring my shoulders, I grabbed my laptop bag and headed for the door. I told myself I’d push through this. I always did. But I couldn’t quiet the nagging voice that said this time, willpower alone wouldn’t be enough to keep my world from spinning out of control.
Meghan
I stepped off the elevator onto the twenty-ninth floor of the Price Industries building. The receptionist greeted me with a bright smile, but I barely registered it. I was on a mission.
Wick’s abrupt departure from Callie and Emmett’s house the night before had left me unsettled. The tension between us had been palpable. I was done with the bullshit. Something had to give.
I strode down the familiar hallway to Wick’s office. His assistant, Jenna, glanced up from her computer as I approached.
“Meghan! What a surprise. Wick didn’t mention you were stopping by today.”
I forced a shrug, pasting on my most convincing smile. “Just thought I’d pop in and say hello. Is he free?”
She glanced at the calendar on her screen and frowned. “He’s actually in a meeting right now, but it should be wrapping up soon. You’re welcome to wait in his office if you’d like.”
“That would be great, thanks.”
I slipped into Wick’s office, and I was immediately enveloped by the comforting scent of his cologne. The space was sleek and modern, all clean lines and muted tones, but there were touches of warmth—a framed photo of his mom and sister, a fully stocked bar cart, and a well-worn leather armchair. On the side table next to the chair sat a dog-eared copy of his latest smutty romance novel. I smirked, grabbing the book and flipping through it until I spied some ink on a page. A passage was underlined, and Wick’s hasty handwriting was scribbled in the margin.
MEG WOULD LOVE THIS.
I settled into the chair and read the chapter. He was right. I did love it. A telltale burning behind my nose warned me of threatening tears. He knows me so well. Before they could spill, the door swung open, and Wick strode in, his brow knitted as he studied the papers in his hand.
“Hey there, stranger.”
Startled, he glanced up, his eyes widening as they landed on me. For a moment, I swore I saw a flicker of something raw and unguarded, but it vanished instantly, replaced by his usual composure.
“Hey, Meg. What are you doing here?” He sounded calm, but his usually impeccable suit was rumpled, and his dark hair was mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it.
I put the book down and smoothed my hands over my skirt. “Just thought I’d stop by and check on you. You left in such a hurry last night, and I...I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Wick’s eyes hardened, and he strode towards his desk. He finally replied after shuffling some papers around and taking a seat. “Everything’s fine. I just had some work to catch up on.”
I bit my lip, taking in the shadows beneath his eyes and the tightness around his mouth. He looked exhausted.
“Wick, please. Don’t shut me out. I know things have been complicated between us lately. But you’re still my best friend. Talk to me.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. For a while, he was silent, the only sound the distant hum of the air conditioning. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, strained. “I just...I don’t know how to do this, Meg. Last night, watching you drape yourself all over Marco like some kind of—” He cut himself off, pressing his lips together in a thin line .
I bristled, my own temper flaring to life. “Some kind of what, Wick? Go ahead, say it.”
He dragged a hand down his face, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t like seeing you with him, okay?”
I scoffed, mirroring his posture and crossing my arms. “And who are you to decide that? You’re not my keeper.”
“He’s not good for you, Meghan. He’s a player. He’ll only end up hurting you.”
“You have no idea what my relationship with Marco is like, Wick. No fucking clue.”
He stood abruptly, his chair rolling back and slamming against the wall. He rounded the desk, closing the distance between us until we were toe-to-toe. His chest heaved with barely contained emotion. “Then enlighten me. Because from where I’m standing, you’re just another notch on his bedpost.”
The words hit me like a slap. I reeled back, blinking against the sudden rush of tears. “Fuck you, Wick.”
Regret immediately flashed in his eyes. “Meg, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“You don’t get to do that.” My voice shook with fury. How dare he judge me, after everything we’d been through? After pushing me away, time and time again. “You don’t get to act like some jealous boyfriend when you made it perfectly clear that you don’t want me.”
Wick flinched. “Meghan, that’s not?—”
“Save it. I don’t need your approval, and I sure as hell don’t need your protection. I’m a grown woman, and I can make my own damn choices.”
“You may not think so, Meghan, but I know you better than anyone. I’ve been there for you through everything—every breakup, every family drama, every moment of self-doubt. I was the one who held you while you cried, who listened to your dreams and fears. Me.” He jabbed a finger into his chest. “Not him.”
My hands balled into fists at my sides. “I’ve spent years waiting, Wick. Years hoping that maybe you’d wake up one day and realize that I was right there in front of you. But you never did. And then, when we finally crossed that line, when I actually thought things were changing between us, you pushed me away. Again.”
“Meghan.” His voice was low and urgent, his eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry. I care about you, okay? More than I probably should. I don’t know what this is. But I do know that I can’t give you what you want. What you deserve.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the wave of disappointment that crashed over me. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel something for you, Wick,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “It’s tearing me apart.”
He cupped my face and gazed down at me with a pained expression. “I’m sorry, Meg. I never meant to hurt you.”
I jerked away, wrapping my arms around myself. “But you did. And I can’t keep doing this, Wick. I can’t keep putting my life on hold, waiting for you to figure out what you want.”
“I don’t want to lose our friendship, Meg. And we both know I’m no good at anything more than that.”
“That’s such a bullshit excuse. I seem to remember you being in a long-term committed relationship for eight years.”
“Yeah, and look how that turned out.”
“Well I’m not Beth! ”
“Fuck, I know you’re not Beth .” His voice dripped with venom when he spoke her name. “But that doesn’t guarantee anything . And I can’t lose you.”
“Fine.” I nodded, a single tear slipping down my cheek. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”
I turned to go. As I reached for the door handle, Wick’s voice stopped me. “Meghan, wait. Please.”
For a moment, I let myself hope. Let myself believe that he’d changed his mind. But when I turned to face him, his expression was blank, his eyes shuttered. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
I swallowed, forcing back a sob. “Me too, Wick. Me too.”
With that, I wrenched open the door and fled, my heels echoing like gunshots in the empty hallway. I didn’t stop until I reached the elevator, my chest heaving with the effort of holding back my tears.
My phone buzzed in my purse and I pulled it out after jamming my finger a few times on the call button.
WICK
I’m sorry.
That was when the tears began to flow in earnest. Luckily, the elevator arrived, and I hurried in. As the doors slid shut, I glimpsed my reflection in the mirrored walls. I saw a girl who’d just had her heart shattered into a million jagged pieces. But beneath the pain, there was something else. A flicker of steel.
I was done waiting for Wick to choose me. Done putting my life on hold for a man who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see what was right in front of him. It was time to move on, to find my own happiness. Even if it meant leaving behind the one person I’d always thought I couldn’t live without.