16. MARCY
MARCY
It’s been three weeks.
Three weeks of crossing lines I never thought I’d cross. Three weeks of giving in—again and again—to the three men I swore I wouldn’t get tangled up with.
None of us talks about what it means. Maybe we’re all too afraid to give it a name and risk losing it. But every stolen moment, every heated glance, every hushed conversation in an empty hallway reminds me how alive I feel with them.
With CJ, it’s usually a spark that ignites on sight—his gaze locking on mine, dark with unspoken need. I’ll be in the middle of a task or shutting down the bar for the night, and suddenly he’s there.
One time, I was dozing off at a desk, paperwork scattered around me, and he silently closed the door behind him. In the next breath, he had me pinned against the wall, muttering, “I hate how much I want this” between desperate kisses.
But in the early morning light, when I wake tangled in his arms, it’s different. He’s quiet, holding me close as if he loosened his grip, I might vanish.
He’s my biggest cheerleader, the one who silently shakes his head as if to warn me I’m making some mistake while working at the bar. The one who makes sure the new recruits don’t come anywhere near me, keeping all the men around me in line.
Well, all except Hawk and Ryder.
Hawk is all playful banter and devastating smiles.
Late one night after closing, we ended up on the pool table, the neon lights casting wild shadows on his face as he murmured, “Show me that little trick” in a teasing, low voice.
I remember how I laughed, how he drank in my laughter like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, how his hands slid up my thighs until I lost any sense of teasing.
Sometimes, he drags me outside beneath the stars, pressing me against his bike just to make me laugh and moan in the same breath.
With Ryder, there’s an intensity that simmers right below the surface, ready to spill over the second we’re alone.
One afternoon, he found me hauling supplies in the storage room, and neither of us spoke a word.
It was just a shared look, a heat in his eyes that dared me to say no—except I never wanted to say no to him.
He took me against the shelves, and afterward, he pulled me into his lap, threading his fingers through my hair until my breathing settled.
And me? I drift from one of them to the next in this strange, uncharted world, feeling more alive than I ever did living under my father’s suffocating shadow.
Sometimes I catch myself questioning what I’m doing.
How I can be with three men who are so different.
How they can tolerate sharing me without jealousy splitting the seams.
Maybe it’s a disaster waiting to implode. We don’t exactly talk about this stuff with each other.
The bar feels louder than usual today, or maybe it’s just my thoughts. CJ had offered to let me stay longer—something about needing my help with the holiday menu—but I’d told him I needed the afternoon off. Not because I had errands or a pressing emergency.
Because I need air. Space. Time to think.
By the time I leave the bar, the sun’s already sliding into that late-afternoon glow. My head’s pounding with too many thoughts. I promised Bianca I’d meet her to look at apartments, and I’m trying to stay focused on that. But God, my mind can’t let go of them—CJ, Ryder, Hawk.
Is it crazy that I want to keep all three? Is that even possible?
I shake my head, hopping into Bianca’s car as she screeches up to the curb. She’s blasting some pop anthem, bopping her head like we’re on a road trip instead of a rushed afternoon of apartment hunting.
“You okay?” she asks, eyeing me the second I buckle in.
“Totally fine,” I lie, forcing a smile. “Just… a lot on my mind.”
Bianca snorts. “Understatement, babe. You’ve got three men on your mind, plus a father from hell. Let’s see if new digs can help, huh?”
I nod, swallowing the lump of doubt in my throat. “Yeah. Let’s hope so.”
Bianca babbles on about the apartments we’re seeing while I nod distractedly. She leads the charge as we arrive at the street where the first place is supposed to be.
“So this one’s a one-bedroom, tiny bathroom, no closet space, but killer light,” Bianca says, already unlocking the door like she owns the place.
It creaks open. Inside, it’s... fine. Small couch, weird carpet, ancient stove that probably hasn’t worked since the early 2000s. But the sun does stream in like it’s trying to make up for everything else.
I nod distractedly, trying to seem engaged, but my mind isn’t here.
It’s back at the bar… with them. CJ’s gruff hands and the way he stares at me like he can’t stand me, but won’t let go.
Hawk’s teasing smirk, the kind that always leads to trouble.
Ryder’s slow-burning intensity, like he’s memorizing every part of me.
What does this mean? Can I really be with all three of them at once? And if I can… how long before one of them breaks?
“You’re not even looking,” Bianca sighs.
I blink. “Sorry. Thinking.”
“That’s new,” she teases, nudging me with her elbow. “C’mon. Next one’s two blocks away, and it doesn’t smell like stale regret.”
We tour two more places—one with a sad little balcony that faces a brick wall, and another with a tub that might actually be cursed. But still, I’m thinking about the same thing.
CJ. Hawk. Ryder. All of them. All mine. For now.
“I can’t believe you’re already moving out,” Bianca says as we leave the last apartment. Her voice is light, but I hear the sadness under it. “Gonna miss you hogging the bathroom.”
I smile, linking arms with her. “I need to do this. I need my own place. My own life.”
She mock gasps. “And I suppose you’ll be inviting one of your handsome hunks over? Or wait… do I need to clear the entire block?”
I laugh, and then, before I can stop myself, I say, “Actually… Ryder and I already…”
Bianca stops dead in her tracks. “Wait, what? Where?”
I raise a brow. “You really want the details?”
She holds up both hands like she’s waving off a horror film. “Nope! Never mind. I don’t want to know where exactly in the apartment you did the nasty. But seriously…” She smirks. “You really went and pulled a hat trick with these men, didn’t you?”
I shrug, heart thudding just a little. “I guess I did.”
But what happens now? I have no damn clue.
Bianca loops her arm through mine again as we head back to her car. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have said no to your dad, let alone gotten tangled up with three biker bad boys.”
I chuckle, even though my chest feels tight. “Yeah, well. Getting cut off, nearly crashing my car, and being slut-shamed in a biker bar will do that to a girl.”
We both laugh, but the truth buzzes beneath my skin. I’m changing. Faster than I thought I could.
We slide into the car and shut the doors. Bianca turns the ignition, and the radio hums to life, playing something mellow and old-school on low volume. I stare out the window as we drive, watching the city roll by—gray buildings, neon signs, bundled-up people going about their lives.
The fifth place we see is different.
It’s small—just a single unit tucked between a boarded-up bakery and a psychic who may or may not be a hoarder.
But the bones are good. The windows are wide, the floors are real wood (even if half of them creak like a haunted house), and there’s a porch with chipped white paint that gives it a kind of...
sad charm. Like it wants to be loved again.
“I mean, it’s not much,” the landlord, an older guy named Ralph with more beard than chin, says as he jingles the keys in his hand. “But it’s got character.”
Translation: it’s a dump with potential.
But the rent’s doable, the neighborhood’s quietish, and for once, I feel like I could breathe here.
“I’ll take it,” I say before I can overthink it. “I can do the fixing up.”
Ralph beams like I just saved him from another year of listing it. “Great! I’ll just need to run the usual background stuff, make sure everything checks out.”
“Of course,” I say, trying to sound casual, even though my stomach tightens.
A few minutes later, I’m sitting on the porch steps, Bianca beside me, sipping a bottled lemonade Ralph had pulled out from somewhere. Probably his truck cooler that doubles as a tool chest.
Bianca stretches her legs out. “You sure about this?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s not perfect, but I think I need something that’s mine. Even if it’s peeling and smells like it’s been empty since the ’90s.”
“You mean, it doesn’t scream future senator’s daughter?” she teases, nudging my shoulder.
I roll my eyes. “No, but maybe that’s the point.”
She grows quiet, and so do I. For a moment, it’s just the rustling of leaves and the faint hum of traffic from a block away. The kind of silence that dares you to say the things you’ve been swallowing.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “I’ve never done anything without someone holding my hand—or yanking it. This feels like if I mess this up, there’s no one to blame but me.”
Bianca looks over, her smile soft. “Yeah. But that also means if you don’t mess it up… it’s all yours.”
I nod, biting my lip. Hope and fear swirl in equal parts in my chest. She’s right. This is the very first thing in my life that I get to do by myself.
And then Ralph returns.
But this time, he’s frowning.
“Hey, uh… Marcy, right?” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen… I just got some stuff back and, uh… I’m afraid I can’t rent this place to you.”
I blink. “Wait, what?”
Bianca sits up straighter. “Why not?”
Ralph stammers. “Just, you know, some flags. On paper. You understand.”
“No, I really don’t,” I say, trying to keep the rising panic out of my voice. “You said everything looked good a few minutes ago.”
He avoids my eyes, mumbling something about complications, lease risk, reputation—none of it making any real sense. Just vague noises wrapped in guilt.