The screen door slams behind Mason, and I watch through the window as his ridiculous sedan disappears down the drive.
My hands are still shaking, but the tremor feels different now—adrenaline rather than fear, victory rather than defeat.
Oscar exhales slowly from the couch. Konnor hasn't moved from his position by the window, his dark eyes tracking the dust cloud Mason's car kicks up until it vanishes around the bend.
The silence that follows vibrates with everything we haven't said—about last night, about Mason, about what happens next.
Then I hear an engine, distant but approaching. Not the smooth purr of Mason returning for round two, but something rougher. The particular rumble of a truck I'd recognize anywhere.
My heart does something complicated behind my ribs.
"Jake," Oscar says, unnecessarily, because we all know.
The front door opens, and Jake fills the frame—taking in the scene with those steel-gray eyes that miss nothing. He looks exhausted in a way that makes him more beautiful, not less.
His gaze sweeps over each of us before landing on me, and I watch him register what he's walked into—the residual charge in the air, the way Oscar and Konnor have positioned themselves around me like sentinels.
"Whose car passed me on the road?" His voice carries the careful neutrality of a man who already suspects he's missed something significant.
"Mason Railley." Konnor's tone is clinical, detached. "Kelly's ex-fiancé. The one who orchestrated her removal from her own company."
Jake's jaw tightens. He approaches and stops directly in front of me. His hand comes up—hesitates—then settles on my shoulder. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." The words come out steadier than I feel. "He came to grovel. Victoria Lynch pulled out of a major merger and will only proceed if I'm reinstated as CEO. Mason thought he could manipulate me into saving his career."
"And?"
"And I told him to go to hell." A smile tugs at my mouth despite everything. "In slightly more professional terms."
Oscar snorts from his position by the door. "She told him the baby isn't his. You should have seen his face—like someone had informed him his portfolio just crashed."
Jake nods slowly, processing. His thumb traces a small circle on my shoulder, grounding and warm.
"He also told her to terminate the pregnancy," Konnor adds, his voice sharp with disgust.
"He said what?" Jake's entire body goes rigid, the softness vanishing from his expression.
"His exact words were 'clean slate,'" Oscar supplies helpfully.
"Did he touch you?" Jake's voice has dropped to something dangerous. "Did he put his hands on you at any point?"
"No. He didn't get the chance." I gesture toward Oscar and Konnor. "I had backup."
Jake's gaze flicks to his friends, and something passes between them—gratitude, acknowledgment, the silent communication of men who've known each other long enough to speak without words.
"What were you doing in town?" I ask, needing to shift the focus away from Mason and his poison. "You left before dawn yesterday. We were worried."
The question lands differently than I intended. Jake's expression shutters, his hand dropping from my shoulder.
"Needed to clear my head." He moves past me, his posture suddenly guarded. "After what happened between us in the truck, and then finding out you tried to run... I needed space to think."
The admission stings more than it should. The four of us fill the living room with complicated silence.
"And?" Oscar watches Jake with raised eyebrows. "What conclusions did your thinking produce?"
"That I made a mistake." Jake's words land like stones in still water. "Not being with you, Kelly—that wasn't the mistake. The mistake was leaving before we could talk about what it meant. Before we could figure out how this works with all four of us."
"Three," I correct automatically, then feel my face heat. "I mean—I'm not part of—"
"You're part of this." Konnor's voice is firm. "Whatever this is, you're part of it. Stop pretending otherwise."
The directness of it steals my breath.
Jake runs a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. "I also needed to make some calls. About Lily."
His daughter. The teenager in the photograph I found in his truck, the one with his exact eyes.
"Everything okay?" Oscar's teasing tone softens into genuine concern.
"She's been having trouble at school. Her mother called, said Lily's been acting out, skipping classes, staying out past curfew." Jake's jaw works. "I've been trying to reach her for two days. She finally answered this morning, talked for about thirty seconds before hanging up on me."
"Teenagers." Oscar shakes his head. "My niece went through something similar last year. Turns out she was just pissed that her parents got divorced and nobody asked her opinion about custody arrangements."
"That's probably part of it." Jake moves to the couch and drops onto it heavily, suddenly looking exhausted. "She asked if I was ever coming home. I didn't know how to tell her that Seattle hasn't felt like home in years."
The vulnerability in his admission makes my chest tight.
I think about my own father—the distance between us measured not in miles but in disappointments—and I understand something about Jake that I couldn't have grasped a week ago.
We're both running from families who couldn't see us. The difference is that Jake still has someone worth running back to.
"So your ex-fiancé showed up demanding you save his career while simultaneously telling you to abort your baby," Oscar summarizes, breaking the heavy silence with his characteristic irreverence. "And his negotiation tactic was insulting everyone in the room. Harvard Business School, was it?"
"Wharton, actually."
"That explains the complete absence of emotional intelligence." Oscar grins, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. "Did he really think that would work? 'Hello, woman I publicly humiliated, please save my job and also murder your fetus for the sake of corporate optics'?"
"I think he expected me to be grateful for the opportunity." I settle onto the couch beside Jake, the cushions dipping under my weight. "He's always underestimated me."
"The audacity of showing up here," Konnor observes dryly.
The laughter that bubbles up from my chest surprises me. It's absurd—all of it. Mason's appearance, his demands, the way these three men closed ranks around me without hesitation.
A week ago, I was a stranger who crashed into their vacation. Now they're defending me like I belong here.
Maybe I do.
The thought is terrifying and comforting in equal measure.
"I need to lie down." The exhaustion hits suddenly, the sleepless night and emotional whiplash catching up to me. "Process everything. Figure out what I'm going to do about Victoria's offer."
"Take your time." Oscar's voice has softened. "We're not going anywhere."
I stand, my legs unsteady, and Jake catches my wrist before I can move toward the bedroom.
"We should talk," he says quietly. "About what happened. About what's happening with Oscar and Konnor. About all of it."
"We will." I cover his hand with mine, feeling the rough calluses against my palm. "Just... not right now. I need a minute to remember how to breathe."
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