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I pivot on my heel, the last vestiges of my tirade still hot on my tongue. My chest heaves with the exertion of my anger, and I can feel the flush on my cheeks beginning to cool in the air-conditioned decadence of Kat's suite. The men before me, bound and sheepish beneath the makeshift get along shirt, look like a bizarre art installation gone wrong.
"Think of this as...team-building," I quip, unable to resist the last jab. "Or maybe time-out for overgrown toddlers."
Ethan snickers from beside me, his arms crossed as he surveys our handiwork. Our cousins are less amused, their faces etched with concern for Kat and thinly veiled disgust at her suitors' antics.
"Annabelle," Emrys begins, his voice muffled by the sheet, "this isn't?—"
"Save it," I cut him off, silencing whatever excuse is about to spill from his lips. "You've got some serious soul-searching to do, all of you. And until you figure out how to untangle this mess you've made, you're stuck with each other. Literally. Reflect on that. Reflect on her," I say, stepping back. My piece said. My sister's honor fiercely defended. "Oh…and fuck you!"
I leave them there, a tableau of regret and dawning understanding, and stride out of the room. The click of the door behind me feels final, a period at the end of a long, complicated sentence. But as I walk away, a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Because deep down, past the anger and protectiveness, I know Kat's got herself an unlikely trio of men who are about to trip over themselves to make things right.
"Let's hope they figure it out before someone needs to use the bathroom," I chuckle to Ethan, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. A chorus of laughter rings out as we all load up on the elevator, more than pleased with ourselves.
Love, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor. And so do I.
Chapter 37
The three of us are still crammed beneath this ridiculous time out shirt, our limbs entwined like a human pretzel. It's like a sweat lodge for fools–fools who've been fighting over the kind of woman that comes around once in a blue moon, if you're lucky. Now we’re bound in what constitutes a cotton straightjacket, bound by fabric and stubborn pride.
Sweat trickles down my back, and I can't help but think about how Kat must be feeling right now. My chest tightens at the thought of her, the way it always does, but this time it hurts. Like I'm trying to rope a wild mustang with my bare hands.
"Guys," I begin, swallowing the lump in my throat, "I reckon we've been acting like a trio of bullheaded steers. We gotta do right by Kat."
There's a collective sigh, a sound that carries the weight of our shared guilt. We've acted like kids playing king of the castle, but damn, Kat's better than that.
"I never wanted things to get this way," Wyatt admits, his words laced with regret. "Kat's more than some trophy. She's- She's everything."
Emrys grunts in agreement, struggling to shift his weight without causing more discomfort. "What are we going to do?" He asks, genuine concern lacing his words.
"First things first, let's get out of this oversized toddler penalty wear." With fingers trained from years of handling lassos and leather, I work at the knots binding us. Each twist and tug bringing a little more freedom. The twine resists, but like anything else, with patience and a bit of cowboy know-how, it gives way.
"Since when did you become Houdini?" Wyatt asks, a hint of amusement breaking through the tension.
"Since always," I grunt, finally loosening the last loop. The others might not know a square knot from a granny knot, but give me some rope and I'll show you magic. "Cowboys have their ways, you know."
"Clearly, we underestimated the cowboy," Emrys teases lightly, relief evident in his tone.
"Got it," With one last tug, the binds fall away, and we're free, physically at least. The emotional knots? Well…that’ll come.
Freedom never felt so good, or so daunting. As we sit on the floor, catching our breath, I look at Wyatt and Emrys, both looking as miserable as I feel. "From now on," I declare. "No more games. We work together, protect each other, and let Kat decide how this wild ride ends."
Wyatt nods, his green eyes filled with determination. "You're right, Wilder. She means too much to all of us for us to keep acting like idiots."
"Agreed," Emrys chimes in, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "But how do we do that? How do we make it up to her?"
I rub at my temples, thinking hard. "We need to show her that we're serious about making this work. That we'll do whatever it takes to make her happy."
"Right," Wyatt says, his voice firm. "We'll apologize, of course, but actions speak louder than words. We're going to be there for her, support her, and prove that we can be the partners she deserves."
Emrys nods, a determined glint in his eyes. "We need to work together, not against each other. It's the only way this has any chance of working."
"Exactly," I say, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.
Together, we stand up, our resolve solidifying as we prepare to face the woman who has captured all our hearts. No more competition, no more games. Just three men committed to giving their all to the woman they lo-
Well…really like.
The shirt hits the ground like a flag of surrender, and I look around at my makeshift brothers-in-arms, our chests heaving from more than just the physical struggle. There's a moment, as silent as the calm between storms, where we all lock eyes—a silent agreement passing between us.
