Chapter 19
By late afternoon, I realized I’d fucked up spectacularly. My brilliant strategy of emotional unavailability had apparently crossed the line from “professional distance” to “complete asshole behavior.”
The realization hit me like a brick to the face when I stepped into Studio 4B and immediately noticed the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
Liam sat forward on the leather couch, notebook in hand, his usual golden retriever energy replaced by something more rigid and pissed off. Asher stood by the mixing board radiating that particular brand of controlled fury that made my stomach clench into origami shapes.
Finn leaned against the piano, but his trademark easy smile had gone AWOL, replaced by a seriousness that looked foreign on his features.
Well, shit.
“Hey,” I said, my greeting landing somewhere between polite and pathetic. “I left the demos earlier. Hope everything was good.”
The silence that followed stretched longer than a CVS receipt.
Asher’s frown could’ve carved glass. “You didn’t exactly stick around, Jasmine.”
“Yeah, where’d you disappear so fast?” Finn’s tone was light, but I caught the hurt underneath it, which was somehow worse than outright anger.
Liam didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me with those piercing green eyes that always made me feel like he was reading my browser history.
His gaze was sharp enough to perform surgery, making me feel exposed in a way that had nothing to do with clothing and everything to do with the walls I’d been building.
“I had other work to catch up on,” I said weakly, knowing it sounded about as convincing as a politician’s campaign promises.
“Other work,” Asher repeated, voice flat as roadkill. “More important than discussing the tracks you spent all night perfecting?”
Before I could formulate a response that didn’t make me sound like a complete disaster, the studio door opened with a sharp click. Adelyn swept in with that bright but forced smile I’d grown to dread like root canals and tax audits.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, eyes immediately finding mine like heat-seeking missiles, “but I’ll need Jasmine’s update for tomorrow’s schedule before six. There are some timing conflicts that need immediate attention.”
Liam stood smoothly, his movement controlled but carrying unmistakable authority.
“Adelyn, can you give us a minute? This is a production review.”
“Oh, of course, sir,” Adelyn replied, but her eyes flicked between me and the three brothers, cataloging every detail with that sharp intelligence I’d learned to fear. Her smile looked about as genuine as a knockoff Rolex. “I’ll just wait outside then.”
“Actually,” Liam’s voice carried a finality that could stop traffic, “why don’t you handle the scheduling conflicts yourself? I’m sure someone with your experience can manage timeline adjustments.”
For a moment, something flickered across Adelyn’s expression—surprise, maybe even annoyance—but she recovered faster than a cat landing on its feet.
“Of course. I’ll take care of it.” She turned and left, heels clicking against the hardwood like a countdown timer, the sound echoing even after the door closed.
“She’s been glued to you lately,” Finn muttered, pushing off from the piano. “Like a shadow you can’t shake.”
I glanced down at my hands, fidgeting with my bag strap like it held the secrets of the universe. “She’s always around. Part of her job, I guess.”
“Is it?” Asher asked pointedly. “Because last I checked, her job description didn’t include stalking you like a discount private investigator.”
“She’s not stalking me,” I protested, but even I could hear how unconvincing it sounded.
Liam stepped closer, his presence immediately commanding my attention like a gravitational pull.
“Something’s happening beneath the surface, Jasmine. We can all feel it. The question is whether you’re going to trust us enough to tell us what it is.”
“Or if you’re going to keep pulling away and pretending we don’t exist,” Asher added bluntly, his frustration finally breaking through his controlled exterior like water through a dam.
“I’m not pretending you don’t exist,” I said, voice rising slightly. “I’m trying to be professional. I’m trying to—”
“To what?” Finn interrupted gently. “To disappear? Because that’s what it feels like. Like you’re systematically erasing yourself from our lives.”
“We’ve been watching you disappear in real time,” Liam said, voice softer now but no less intense. “And we’re not going to stand by and let it happen.”
The weight of their combined attention, their genuine concern, was overwhelming. I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes and blinked them back furiously because crying at work was not on my agenda for today.
“I don’t want to make things harder,” I whispered. “For any of us. Things are complicated enough already.”
“Harder how?” Asher demanded. “By being honest about what’s happening between us? By acknowledging that this thing we have is real?”
“By risking everything we’ve all worked for,” I shot back. “By giving people like Adelyn ammunition to use against us.”
Liam’s expression softened, and he reached out as if to touch my face, then stopped himself, hand falling back to his side.
“We’re not going to let you isolate yourself to protect us, Jasmine. That’s not how this works.”
“Then how does it work?” I asked desperately. “Because I don’t know how to navigate this. I don’t know how to be professional and distant during the day and then… whatever this is at night.”
“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Finn said, moving closer until the three of them formed a loose circle around me. “That’s what we’re trying to tell you.”
“Come to dinner tonight,” Asher said suddenly. “At Liam’s place. Nothing formal, nothing complicated. Just us talking like we used to before you decided we were too dangerous to be around.”
“I never said you were dangerous,” I protested.
“You didn’t have to,” Liam replied. “Your actions said it loud and clear.”
I looked between the three of them, seeing the hurt I’d caused written in their expressions despite their attempts to hide it. The realization that my self-preservation had wounded them made my chest tight with guilt and other emotions I wasn’t ready to name.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said quietly.
“It’s a terrible idea,” Finn agreed with a slight smile. “Most of our best ideas are. But we’re asking anyway.”
“Please,” Liam added, and the simple word carried more weight than any elaborate argument could have. “Just… come. Let us cook for you, let us take care of you for one evening. Let us be more than whatever professional relationship you’re trying to force us into.”
The studio fell quiet except for the soft hum of equipment and the distant sounds of the building settling around us. I could feel their expectation, their hope, their determination not to let me slip away completely.
“Okay,” I whispered finally. “Okay.”
The relief that flooded their faces was immediate and overwhelming. Asher’s shoulders dropped like he’d been carrying concrete. Finn’s smile returned like sunrise after a storm. Liam’s eyes softened with something that looked like gratitude mixed with relief.
“Seven o’clock,” Liam said. “I’ll send a car.”
“I can drive myself—”
“Seven o’clock,” he repeated firmly. “The car will be there.”
As they began to file out of the studio, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and pounding heart, I realized I was deeper than I’d ever intended to be.
Their combined presence, their subtle gestures of care and protection, their refusal to let me disappear—it was overwhelming and terrifying and exactly what I hadn’t known I needed.
What the hell was I getting myself into?
