I SLEPT WITH MY BESTFRIEND'S BROTHER

The plastic stick clattered against the bathroom tile, the sound echoing like a gunshot off the cold porcelain. ​I didn't move. I couldn't move. ​My breath caught in my throat, hot and tight, as I stared down at the white window lying face-up by my bare feet. I prayed. I bargained with whatever twisted deity was watching. Please. Let it be a shadow. Let it be an error. ​Slowly, my heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs, I bent down and snatched it up. I wiped the screen against the fabric of my sweater, as if a layer of lint could somehow rewrite reality, and held it directly under the harsh fluorescent light above the mirror. ​Two pink lines. ​Distinct. Unforgiving. Crimson red against the plastic. ​"No..." The word tore out of my throat, barely more than a ragged whisper that died against the bathroom mirror. ​My knees gave out. I slid down the wall until my backside hit the icy floor, my hands trembling violently as I clutched the test against my chest. I stared at my reflection in the lower glass of the vanity. My eyes were wide, dark, and hollow with pure panic. My skin was drained of all color. ​Pregnant. ​The word didn't just sit in my head; it crushed me. It pressed down on my chest until every lungful of air felt like inhaling broken glass. ​BZZZZ. ​The sudden vibration of my phone on the marble counter shattered the silence. I flinched, almost dropping the test a second time. I turned my head slowly, fear making every muscle in my neck stiff. ​The screen illuminated the dark bathroom. ​JADE ❤️ ​A sickening wave of nausea surged in the pit of my stomach, sharp and visceral. My best friend. My sister in everything but blood. The girl who had held my hair back when I was sick at sixteen, who had shared every secret, every heartbreak, every dream with me for fifteen years. ​Right now, she was three miles away, probably looking at her reflection in a wedding dress, waiting for her maid of honor. ​And I was sitting on my bathroom floor, holding the evidence of the ultimate betrayal. ​The phone buzzed again, long and insistent, before finally cutting off. I didn't answer. I couldn't. How could I put her voice in my ear when the truth was sitting in my hand? ​Ten seconds later, the screen lit up with a text: ​Jade: Where ARE you?! Mom is literally losing her mind over the rehearsal dinner seating chart and the florist just brought the wrong roses. I need you! Get your ass over here! ​I buried my face in my knees, a dry sob wrenching through my chest. ​I need you. ​She needed me. She trusted me. She was marrying the man of her dreams in less than six months, and she had handed me the reins to her entire life because she believed I was her rock. She believed I was incapable of hurting her. ​She didn't know about the dark patio three weeks ago. She didn't know about the smell of rain mixed with top-shelf scotch, or the way her brother’s heavy ringed hands had bracketed my waist, lifting me off my feet until my back hit the brick wall behind the venue. ​Three weeks ago. ​It was supposed to be her engagement party. A night of champagne toasts, tearful speeches, and endless laughter. But the noise had become unbearable, the walls closing in on me as I watched Jade spin around the dance floor with her fiancé. I had slipped out the side exit to the secluded patio, desperate for cold air and a moment of quiet. ​I hadn't heard him approach. Mason Sullivan moved like a shadow—he always had. ​When I turned around, he was already there, leaning against the stone pillar, a glass of dark liquor resting casually in his fingers. He looked larger than I remembered, broader in the shoulders, the light from the interior lamps carving sharp, dangerous angles into his jawline. ​Two years in Singapore hadn't erased him. If anything, it had hardened him. ​"Hiding, Nora?" his deep voice had purred, low and rough, sending an immediate electric jolt straight down my spine. ​"I don't hide," I had lied, my pulse spiking instantly. "I just needed air." ​"You're lying," he said smoothly, taking a slow step toward me. The distance between us closed, the heat radiating off him cutting through the cool night wind. "You've been hiding from me since I walked through the front door." ​"You shouldn't be here, Mason," I whispered, every instinct screaming at me to run, yet my heels remained rooted to the concrete. "You were supposed to stay in Asia until next month." ​"I couldn't stay," he growled, dropping his glass onto a nearby patio table with a quiet clink. He took another step, trapping me between his chest and the stone wall. "I tried, Nora. God help me, I tried for two years. But the second she announced the wedding date... I knew I had to come back." ​"Don't," I breathed, though my hands betrayed me, rising to rest against his lapels. I could feel the thunderous beat of his heart through the heavy fabric of his suit. "We swore. Three years ago on your porch, we said this was off-limits. You're her brother. I'm her best friend." ​"f**k the rules," Mason growled, his hand snaking up to grip my jawline, his fingers warm and firm against my skin. His thumb dragged across my lower lip, parting it. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel it. Tell me to walk away, right now, and I'll go back inside. I'll take the first flight back to Singapore and you'll never have to look at me again." ​He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath my ear, his breath hot against my throat. ​"Tell me, Nora. Say the word." ​I had opened my mouth. I had intended to say it. I had rehearsed that single word for three agonizing years. Go. ​Instead, the ghost of a whisper escaped me: "I can't." ​Something inside him shattered at those words. The restraint he had kept clamped down for years evaporated in a heartbeat. His mouth slammed down on mine—possessive, desperate, bruised with an intensity that knocked the wind straight out of my lungs. He lifted me effortlessly, pinning me against the wall, his hands tangled deep in my hair as if he were a drowning man and I was his only source of oxygen. ​And I let him. I held onto his shoulders, opening up to him, drowning in the exact ruin I had spent my entire life trying to avoid. ​BZZZZ. ​The sudden violent rattle of my phone on the tile snapped me back to the present with the force of a physical blow. ​I gasped, pulling myself out of the memory, my body shaking with residual heat and blinding guilt. I pushed myself up from the cold floor, using the counter to steady my trembling legs. I caught sight of myself in the mirror again—red-eyed, pale, marked by a secret that was growing larger with every passing second. ​I reached for the phone, expecting another furious text from Jade demanding to know where her maid of honor was. ​Instead, the notification banner showed a number I didn't recognize. ​Unknown Number: It looks so good on you, Nora. The panic. You really thought you could play with the Sullivans and walk away untouched? ​My blood froze instantly. The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet. ​Someone was watching. ​Before my brain could even process the threat, a second notification slid down over the first. This time, the contact name made my heart stop completely. ​Mason: Don't reply to Jade. Mason: Look out your window. Now. ​My phone slipped slightly in my sweat-slicked palm. I stumbled out of the bathroom, my feet dragging across the hardwood floor of my bedroom toward the large bay window that overlooked the rain-slicked avenue below. ​I pulled back the edge of the heavy linen curtain, peeking down into the dim twilight of the street. ​Parked directly beneath the dying orange glow of a flickering streetlamp was a massive, midnight-black SUV. The engine was idling, thin white exhaust curling up into the damp air, but the headlights were completely blacked out. ​Leaning casually against the driver's side door, his long legs crossed at the ankle and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark tailored coat, was Mason. ​He wasn't looking at his phone. He was looking directly up at my third-floor window, his head tilted slightly, his dark eyes cutting through the glass and rain straight into mine. Even from three stories up, the absolute control radiating off him was suffocating. ​My phone vibrated violently against my ear. He was calling. ​I brought the phone up, my thumb swiping the screen with a trembling motion. I didn't say a word. I couldn't find my voice if I tried. ​"Nora," his voice came through the speaker—deep, raspy, and dangerously quiet, completely devoid of the polite tone he used in front of his family. "Grab your coat." ​"Mason..." I squeaked out, my voice breaking. "Jade is waiting for me. I—I have to go to the venue." ​"You're not going anywhere near my sister right now," he said, his tone leaving zero room for argument. I watched from the window as he pulled one hand from his pocket, turning his wrist to check his watch. "You have ninety seconds to get down to this car, Nora. If you're not in this seat by then, I'm coming up those stairs, kicking your door off its hinges, and carrying you out myself." ​"You wouldn't dare," I whispered, though my chest seized with the terrifying knowledge that he absolutely would. ​"Try me," Mason growled, his eyes locking back onto mine through the glass. "Ninety seconds, sweetheart. Clock's ticking." ​The line went dead.