Page 5 of Vows of Ruin

Max shakes his head, grinning, and gently guides me toward the house. Just like that we’re going to figure out how to love… differently. Together.

Inside, the air is cooler, but my skin is warm from tequila, nerves, and the weight of what we’re about to do. I catch movement at the top of the stairs, Reaper. He’s coming down slowly, every step more hesitant than the last. He sees us and freezes like a guilty dog that got caught in the trash. His jaw tightens. He looks like he wants to bolt, disappear before I can say anything. Not today.

“You,” I say, pointing at him with zero hesitation. “Sit.”

I point at a spot on the couch and Reaper, six-foot-seven, former Marine Reaper, nods like a scolded schoolboy and walks into the living room. He drops onto the couch beside Max, who’s already settled, casual and calm, like this is just any other evening. I stay standing, facing them both.

My hands are trembling slightly. I rub them together, grounding myself. “Okay,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Max… I love you.”

He smiles. That soft, warm one I know so well. The one that says. I know, Sparrow.

I turn to Reaper. “And Reaper…” my voice catches, just for a second. His eyes are locked onto mine like I’m oxygen and he hasn’t taken a breath since I walked in. “I think I love you, too.”

The room goes still. Max doesn’t flinch. Reaper blinks once, slow and careful, like he’s afraid this is a dream. “So,” I say, taking a deep breath, “How do we make this work?”

They look at each other, one of the silent conversations that only people who’ve bled together can have.

Reaper is still staring at me like he’s trying to memorize every freckle on my face. My heart races, but it’s not fear. It’s adrenaline. Possibility. Hope. And just like that, the three of us are standing at the edge of something dangerous, untraditional, and messy as hell. It might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever encountered.

Chapter Three

Reaper

The living room is dim except for the low light spilling from the kitchen. I descend the stairs slowly, every muscle tense like I’m waiting for a verdict I already know will split me open. Wrenley stands in front of the couch, arms crossed, but her face, fuck, her face is soft. Hopeful.

“You,” she says, pointing straight at me. “Sit.”

Already doing it, Little Warrior.

I nod, keeping my mouth shut. Max doesn’t say a word either, his fingers laced loosely in his lap, watching her like she’s already the center of gravity.

She takes a breath. “Okay. Max, I love you. And Reaper, I think I love you too. So how do we make this work?”

Silence. The entire house is holding its breath. Then Max shifts, casual but calm. “We talk. That’s rule number one, constant communication. No hiding shit.”

I nod, feeling the truth of that settle into my chest. “Agreed. No lying. Not to each other, not to ourselves, and definitely not her.”

Wrenley lifts an eyebrow. “You guys realize this is going to be messy, right?”

Max leans back, lips twitching. “That’s life with you, baby. Beautiful chaos.”

“We’ll follow your lead, Little Warrior.”

Wrenley giggles a little. “Alright, ground rules." She says sitting on the coffe table in front of us. "No comparing. You each get a relationship with me, separate and equal.”

“Wait,” she says, her voice teasing, eyes glittering with leftover tequila courage. “Just to be clear… You both want a relationship with me, not each other. Right?”

Max barks out a laugh. “God, yes, just you.”

“I love him,” I say, nodding toward Max, “But only as a brother. And not the kind I’m interested in fucking.”

“That’s comforting,” Max says dryly.

Wrenley snorts. “Just making sure. Okay, what else?”

“No egos,” I offer.

“No guilt,” Max says. “This only works if we all want it to.”