Chapter One
Berkley
Present Day
My phone buzzes violently against my pillow, vibrating like it’s personally offended that I’m still in my full-throttle, post-embarrassment coma. I groan into the fabric as if it betrayed me, burying half my face in a fortress of comfort fluff and emotional debris.
Buzz. Buzz.
I peel one eye open, squinting at the screen like I’ve just been dragged out of a century-long enchantment.
Reign.
Of course it’s Reign.
Because who else would dare call me this early—okay, fine, it’s noon, but morally it’s early—when I am very clearly dedicated to wallowing in humiliation until the end of time?
Two nights ago, I made a complete and catastrophic idiot of myself in front of the four people I love more than anyone in this disastrously complicated world.
Not only did I embarrass myself—I executed a full-speed sprint into the woods like the lead in a low-budget teen drama who just realized she’s in love with all three of her love interests at the exact same moment.
Spoiler alert: she is.
So yes. I panicked. I ran as if the forest had extended a personal invitation and my spirit animal was a frantic woodland creature fleeing tax season. And after that public meltdown, I did what any mature, emotionally grounded young woman would do…
I ghosted them.
Brutally.
I ignored every call. Pretended every text didn’t exist. I even dodged Ronan when he stopped by yesterday and asked my dad if I was “alive and breathing,” while I was literally standing ten feet away. I dove into the living room so fast I think I created a new Olympic sport.
They were patient. Gentle. Way too understanding.
And me? I was a coward in adorable pajama pants.
Avoiding them like they were collectively infected with an emotional plague—as if feelings were contagious and I didn’t already have a fully developed, multi-symptom case of I am in love with all of my male best friends.
I groan before I even hit accept, sounding like a dying Victorian ghost lamenting the burdens of adulthood. “Uggghhh, don’t make me exist.”
Reign bursts into laughter—precisely the reason she’s been included in my three-day boycott of all human contact. “You really ran. Like, full-on cartoon sprint. I’m talking a dust cloud behind you. Wile E. Coyote himself would salute you.”
“Great,” I mumble, flopping onto my back like a fallen heroine. “So, I made a complete fool of myself? Should I assume a new identity? Move to the mountains? Start a llama farm and never speak to another human again?”
She snorts. “God, you’re dramatic. No, you didn’t make a fool of yourself. Though the llama plan has real potential.”
I drape my arm over my eyes, voice muffled. “Did they say anything? Like... after I bolted like my ass was literally on fire?”
Silence. The kind that lasts one beat too long.
“Reign?”
“They talked,” she says at last, and I can hear the mischief curling through her words. “And I talked. I told them I’m good with it. With you. With them. Together.”
My arm flies off my face. “Wait. You told them what?”
“I gave them the green light, babe. Whatever it ends up looking like is yours to decide. They could fight over you like gladiators in a muddy pit, but based on what I’m seeing... they don’t want to.”
My brain short-circuits. “They don’t—what does that even mean?”
“It means they all want you, Berk,” she says with pure, infuriating certainty. “And none of them seem bothered by the idea of sharing. As long as they get to have you.”
I shoot upright in bed, staring at the wall like it might deliver clarity. “Reign. Be so incredibly serious with me right now. You’re telling me all three—Rowen, Ronan, and Emerson—want to date me. Together. Like some kind of... delicious boy buffet.”
She dissolves into laughter, actually choking. “A boy buffet? Jesus Christ. Yes. Exactly that. And they’re all holding a plate. Which is gross, considering two of them are my brothers and the third practically is.” She makes a dramatic gagging noise.
My heart flutters in a way that feels illegal. “This is insane. What would people even think? What would our parents think?”
Reign goes quiet. Not an uneasy silence—a thoughtful silence. Lately she does that more often, choosing her words like each one costs something to say.
“I think,” she begins slowly, “we only get one shot at life. And maybe it’s weird.
Maybe it’s not traditional. But screw traditional.
If you’re lucky enough to find real love—even if it looks different than what everyone expects—you don’t run from it.
You run toward it. And let’s be honest..
. they’d protect you with their last breath. ”
The quiet between us stretches again, deeper this time. There’s something in her voice—fragile, tight—that slides straight under my ribs. It’s not just what she said. It’s the weight behind what she didn’t.
I sit up a little straighter, nerves prickling. “Reign... are you okay?”
She exhales, soft, almost breaking. “I’m fine. Just thinking about Mom. I miss her.”
Another deflection. Another truth wrapped in silence.
But I don’t push her. She’ll come to me when she’s ready. She always has.
“I love you, you know,” I say softly.
“I know. And I love you too. Which is exactly why you’re going to stop being a terrified little chicken, call the guys, and set something up.”
I release a shaky breath—more nerves than oxygen. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll do it.”
“You’ve got this, babe.”
When the call ends, I stare at my phone like it’s a hostile creature waiting to sink its teeth into me. Because now... I actually have to follow through.
Call them.
All three.
And figure out what comes next.