Chapter 32 Sergio #2
"I didn't do anything." Her voice cracks. "I just stood there while you declared war on the Morrison family in front of half the Pacific Northwest."
"War was already declared. They started it. We're finishing it."
"Sergio." She grips my wrists, holding on like I'm the only solid thing in a spinning world. "What if it backfires? What if they come after you? Your business, Nacho's job, Pedro's clinic..."
"Then we handle it." I brush my thumbs across her cheekbones. "Together."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
The door rattles. Carlos's voice from outside: "You two decent in there?"
"Unfortunately." I don't release Jessica. "Come in."
The lock clicks. Carlos enters first, followed by Nacho and Pedro. The conference room suddenly feels much smaller with all five of us crowded inside.
"Rosa's handling the follow-up questions." Carlos leans against the wall, arms crossed. "She's got them eating out of her hand. Three stations have already requested interviews with the other women."
"Good." Nacho moves to the window and peers through the blinds. "The crowd's dispersing. No sign of Morrison or his parents."
"They're here somewhere." I finally release Jessica and step back. "Watching."
"Let them watch." Pedro echoes Carlos's earlier sentiment. "Let them see what happens when they pick a fight with the wrong family."
Jessica sinks into one of the conference chairs, legs apparently giving out beneath her. The green dress pools around her knees. Her face is pale.
"I can't believe you did that." She stares at me. "In front of everyone. On camera."
"Believe it."
"You basically told the entire world that I belong to you."
"You do." Sergio pulls out the chair beside me and sits. "If you want to. That's still your choice."
"Is it?" My laugh comes out shaky. "Because it feels like the choice was made the moment you stepped up to that microphone."
Carlos drops into the chair across from me. "The choice was made three weeks ago when you drove away from your wedding and came to us."
I blink at him. Look at Nacho by the window. At Pedro leaning against the door.
"All of you?" My voice is small. "This is really happening?"
Nacho turns from the window. "All four of us. If that's what you want."
Carlos grins. "No pressure. Well, some pressure. But the good kind."
"Carlos," Pedro snaps.
"What? I'm lightening the mood."
"Someone needs to..."
"Stop." Jessica holds up her hand. "Both of you. Just... stop."
Silence falls.
She takes a breath. Lets it out slowly.
"I've spent weeks falling in love with all of you." Her voice steadies as she speaks. "Fighting it. Telling myself it was too fast, too complicated, too insane. Four brothers. My ex's best friends. A pack bond that shouldn't even be possible."
She meets each of our eyes.
"But it is possible. It's happening. And I'm done pretending I don't want it."
My heart slams against my ribs.
"Jessica." I reach for her hand.
"I want to stay." Her fingers close around mine. "Not because I have nowhere else to go. Not because I'm scared of Callum. Because this is where I belong. With you. All of you."
Carlos makes a sound that might be a whoop of joy. Pedro's stern expression cracks softer. Nacho crosses the room in three strides and drops to his knees beside her chair.
"You're sure?" His dark eyes search her face.
"I'm sure." She touches his jaw with her free hand. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
He turns his head and presses his mouth to her palm.
The gesture is small. Intimate. It makes something tight in my chest finally loosen.
"Okay." I stand, pulling her up with me. "We should go. Before the reporters figure out where we went."
"Where are we going?"
"Home." I wrap my arm around her waist again. "Where you belong."
We file out of the conference room. Through the municipal building. Out the back entrance, where Nacho parked his cruiser hours ago.
The parking lot is mostly empty. A few stragglers from the press conference lingering near their vehicles. A homeless man collecting cans from the recycling bins.
And one black Mercedes with tinted windows, idling in the far corner.
I stop walking.
"Sergio?" Jessica follows my gaze. "What is it?"
"Stay here." I release her waist and start toward the Mercedes. "All of you. Stay with her."
"Sergio." Nacho's voice is sharp. "Let me handle this."
"No." I don't slow down. "This one's mine."
The Mercedes doesn't move as I approach. The windows stay up. The engine keeps running.
I stop three feet from the driver's door and wait.
A long moment passes. Two.
Then the window rolls down.
Callum stares at me from behind the wheel.
He looks like hell. Unshaven. Dark circles under his eyes. His usually perfect hair is greasy and unkempt. The suit he's wearing is wrinkled, like he slept in it.
"Sergio." His voice is hoarse. "We need to talk."
"No. We don't."
"This has gotten out of hand. The press conference, the allegations, the reporters digging into my past..." He runs a hand through his hair. "We've been friends for years. You know me. You know I'm not the monster they're making me out to be."
I look at this man I've known since kindergarten. This man who stood beside me at my parents' funeral. This man who spent two years systematically destroying the woman I love.
"I know exactly what you are." My voice is flat. Cold. "You're a man who confuses control with affection. Who mistakes possession for love. Who breaks people down until they can't remember who they were before you."
"That's not fair."
"Fair is irrelevant." I lean closer to the window. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to drive back to Portland. You're going to tell your parents to call off their lawyers. You're going to disappear from Jessica's life and never contact her again."
"Or what?"
"Or Rosa Castellano publishes everything." I lock eyes with him. "Every sealed record. Every settlement. Every woman who's ready to talk. Your reputation dies. So does daddy's firm."
Callum goes white.
"After everything we've been through—"
"You put hands on her." I step back from the Mercedes, blood pounding in my ears. "Called her 'nothing' in front of half the town."
"Sergio—"
"Drive."
I turn my back and stride toward the cruiser, hands flexing. Twenty years of friendship, gone. Don't feel a damn thing about it.
Jessica's waiting by the passenger door, curves pressed against the car like she's trying to disappear into the metal. Her face is pale, hazel eyes too wide.
The protective surge hits me so hard I almost stagger.
"Is he—" She starts.
I reach her in three steps and cup her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. Soft. She's so damn soft everywhere, and I want to wrap myself around her until nothing else can touch her.
"He's gone." My voice comes out rougher than I mean.
Her breath hitches. Then she melts forward, forehead against my chest, one hand fisting my uniform shirt. The weight of her settles something violent in my gut.
Carlos pulls the back door open. "We moving or what?"
I guide Jessica into the backseat, hand splayed across the small of her back. Can't stop touching her. She slides across the seat and I follow, crowding her against the far door.
Nacho fires the engine.
"I love you." She says it so quietly I almost miss it. "All of you."
My chest cracks open. I pull her sideways across my lap, needing her closer. Her curves fit against me like they were built for it. "Say it again."
"I love you."
I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in. Alive. Safe. Mine.
The cruiser rolls forward, leaving everything behind.