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“No,” Colin said, “we’re done.”
The friction rose between them, inching toward disaster. It filled the space between the three of us like someone had closed the lid on a pressure cooker and cranked the flame beneath as high as it would go. The room was stifling and boiling, and I wanted to flee, because deep down in my bones, I sensed what was coming.
“You need to decide what’s more important to you,” Colin declared. “Seven years of friendship and the business we built together—or fucking my little sister. Because guess what, Preston? You don’t get to do both.”
He was asking Preston to choose between us, and . . .
Oh, no. No!
I was going to lose.
In fact, by declaring I loved him, I’d probably made the choice even easier. I’d gotten too attached and freaked him out. He could use this as his exit and let my brother come off looking like the bad guy.
“Please don’t do this,” I whispered, begging Colin.
Preston’s hands had hung at his sides, and now they balled into fists like he wanted to curl his fingers around this ridiculous ultimatum and rip it apart. “You’re going to throw everything away just because I’m with Sydney?” His eyes were furious. “Who’s the selfish one now?”
Colin wasn’t fazed. “Does that mean you’re picking her?”
The question derailed Preston. He sucked in a sharp breath, like he was preparing to do or say something big, but instead . . . he simply froze. As if he could avoid having to make the decision as long as he didn’t move.
I knew it was impossible, that there were no winners here, but his hesitation was a knife in my stomach. I’d confessed I loved him, and yet he struggled with whether he should even choose me.
Shit, I couldn’t just stand here and wait for the axe to fall.
I lurched forward, grabbed the silicone lid, and snapped it back in place on the Pyrex dish.
“He’s not picking anyone right now,” I announced to everyone, including myself. “I just remembered I’ve got somewhere else to be.” I grasped the container and pulled it into my arms, no longer caring if the pancake stacks and bacon pieces became a jumbled mess on the bottom. “I need you to drive me home, Preston.”
“What?” He peered at me with dismay. Like I was trying to trap him when all I wanted to do was escape.
I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.
It would be too hard to watch the decision I was certain he’d make—the one where I’d lose—while it formed in his eyes. So, I turned and strode as fast as my feet would carry me toward the door.
I wasn’t sure he’d follow me, but after a heartbeat, I heard his heavy, swift footsteps.
“We’re not done talking about this,” he lobbed at my brother as he went, “but you’re being a real dick right now.”
“Yeah? You’ve been a dick for years,” he fired back, chasing us out and slamming the door behind us.
I hated everything in that moment. How I’d stupidly admitted I loved Preston, how he hadn’t said it back, and most of all—how I’d come between him and my brother. This war brewing between them was my fault, and I only saw one terrible way to prevent it.
I didn’t want to give him up. I’d only just gotten him.
It was so fucking unfair, I couldn’t find any words, and if I opened my mouth, I worried I might scream. It was why I said nothing as I marched to the passenger side of his car and waited for him to unlock it.
He didn’t move for a long time.
His angry glare was pinned on the apartment door like he was considering going back inside to try to talk to my brother again. Was he thinking about how none of this had gone the way we wanted it to?
I stood under the hot sun with my Pyrex container pressed to my chest and my arms wrapped around it, feeling nothing but cold dread inside my body.
Had he already made his decision?
Was this it for us?
Time was running out. Every second that crept by pushed us closer to the inevitable. To the end I desperately didn’t want. I needed to make these final moments with him count, to make them last . . . but I didn’t know how.
