Page 101 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
Chapter forty-one
LIAM
It’s a rare quiet afternoon.
The sun’s out, warm but filtered by a gauze of clouds, not enough to make me sweat in my long sleeves. Just enough to gild the tops of buildings in gold and throw soft shadows across the sidewalks.
I’m walking downtown, iced coffee sweating in my hand, letting the city hum around me. A delivery truck rumbles past, and the scent of roasted garlic wafting from the food truck parked at the corner.
A dog tugs its leash toward a tree, its owner distracted on the phone. Somewhere down the block, a street musician strums something lazy and bluesy on his guitar, his open case peppered with coins and a crumpled five-dollar bill.
The rhythm matches my steps.
I duck into a used bookstore—because of course I do. The little bell over the door jingles softly as I enter. It smells like dust, old paper, and a hint of vanilla. A box fan whirs lazily in the corner, doing its best to stir the heavy air.
I spend twenty minutes flipping through a stack of battered paperbacks, half of them sun-faded, all of them slightly warped from age or carelessness. I’ll probably buy three, maybe four. Read none of them. Still, it’s a ritual I like.
One title catches my eye—What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Werewolf. I snort out loud and snap a picture to send to Maya.
Liam:Look what I found.
Maya replies almost instantly.
Maya:Please buy it. For science.
Followed by half a dozen laughing faces.
I smile, roll my eyes, and head back outside. The bell chimes behind me again. I’ve got about twenty minutes before I need to head home.
I’m halfway through debating whether to stop at that bakery Maya likes—the one with the lemon shortbread she’s been craving all week—when I hear someone call out my name.
“Liam.”
The sound cuts through the street noise like a needle through cloth. I turn instinctively, and my stomach drops before my brain catches up to comprehend who’s staring down the sidewalk at me.
Nick.
He’s standing just outside a coffee shop across the street, half in shadow beneath the overhang, arms crossed tight over his chest like he’s physically holding himself back and trying not to explode. His jaw’s clenched, sunglasses pushed up onto his head, and there’s a familiar storm brewing in his eyes.
We haven’t spoken since the wedding. I’m pretty sure Jake and Ethan haven’t spoken to him since that night either.
I stop walking. My grip tightens on the plastic cup of my iced coffee, condensation sliding down my knuckles.
“Nick.”
He steps off the curb and toward me. Not close enough to draw a scene, but close enough to block my path.
“I was wondering when I’d run into one of you,” he says, voice low and sharp-edged. “Ethan, Jake, and you. Been real quiet lately, haven’t you?”
I don’t answer. The air between us thickens, prickles with old tension. I can understand why he’d be annoyed with us.
Not only for the fight at the wedding, but because we’ve been friends for years and the three of us have all stepped back from him at once without a real explanation.
Of course, we’ve done that because we want to protect Maya. She’s our priority now, and Nick has done nothing but hurt her since their breakup.
He takes another step forward and tilts his head. “What the hell is going on between you guys and Maya?”
There it is. The question I knew was coming, the one none of us have been ready to answer.
