Page 105 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“You won’t lose us,” Asher says. He steps forward, entering Ethan’s personal space for the first time. “But if she leaves? If she goes to Nebula? You will lose yourself. I have run the simulation, Ethan. You will not survive her absence.”
“The probability she accepts Vance’s offer is high,” Asher says. “She has already engaged with all three vectors. She craves the connection.”
“And the alternative?” Ethan asks, his voice tight.
“She goes to Nebula,” Asher states flatly. “She signs the contract. And eventually, she enters a standard monogamous courtship with someone else. Perhaps Vance himself. He has a history of mixing business with pleasure.”
Ethan flinches. The vein in his temple throbs violently. “Vance,” he spits the name like a curse. “He doesn’t know her. He sees a strategist. He doesn’t see her.”
“Exactly,” I cut in. “He’ll own her work, Ethan. And eventually, he’ll own her nights. Do you want to watch that? Do you want to see her on the arm of a man who doesn’t know she takes her coffee with oat milk?”
Ethan looks at his desk. He looks at the files scattered on the floor. I see the struggle in his eyes—the rigid moral code warring with the primal, possessive need that has been driving him crazy for weeks.
Finally, the jealousy wins. It burns through the hesitation like a fever.
“No,” he growls. “No one else touches her.”
“Then choose,” I press him, knowing this is the only way. “Let her go to Vance, or let us in. Those are the options.”
Ethan looks at me, then at Asher. The vein in his temple throbs so hard I worry it might burst.
“You’re asking me to tear myself open,” he says, his voice shaking with a rage that feels dangerously close to grief. “To watch you touch her? To know she’s with you? It’s torture, Owen.”
“I know,” I say softly. “But the alternative…”
Ethan turns to look at the empty doorway. At the ghost of her presence.
“The alternative is zero,” Asher supplies. “Total system loss.”
Ethan closes his eyes. He stands there for a long moment, the silence stretching thin, vibrating with the force of his internal war. He looks like a man standing on a ledge, deciding whether to jump or burn.
“I tried,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I tried to let her go. I sat in this office for three days and tried to convince myself she was just an employee.”
He opens his eyes. They are wet. “But she isn’t. She’s… she’s the air.”
He looks at me, then at Asher. He looks defeated, stripped of his armor.
“I can’t survive without the air,” he admits. “And neither can you.”
“No,” I say hoarsely. “I can’t.”
“Then we have no choice,” Ethan says. “We share her.”
He says the words like they taste like broken glass.
“Not because it’s efficient,” he adds, his voice rough. “But because I can’t breathe without her. And I won’t let you breathe without her either.”
The silence stretches, heavy and absolute. The decision has been made, but the reality of it hangs over us like a storm cloud.
“We have to tell her,” I say, the urgency hitting me like a caffeine spike. “Right now. Before she officially signs that PDF and sends it to Vance.”
“She already signed it,” Asher announces.
We both turn to look at him. Asher is staring at his phone, his face bathed in the blue light of the screen.
“What?” Ethan asks, the color draining from his face.
“I am monitoring the corporate accounts,” Asher says, looking up. “A wire transfer of fifty thousand dollars just cleared into the holding account. The sender is listed as Nebula Corporation.”
