Page 32 of Shared Obsession

I draw a shaky breath, feeling the urge to be honest, to be real with her. “Dean and I… we were together for a couple of years before my dad ever found out. It was our secret world—late-night drives, sneaking into each other’s rooms, just trying to hold on to something good when everything else felt like chaos.” I smile wryly. “I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. Not my friends, not Alex, no one. Especially not my dad.”

My voice cracks a little as I go on, the memory raw. “My dad was strict. Not just tough-love, but angry, controlling. The kind of man who thought love had rules, and that boys couldn’t break them. When he finally found out… it wasn’t by choice. We were seventeen, and Dean stayed over. I thought we were safe for just one night. But my dad came home early and caught us kissing. He lost his shit. Screamed at Dean to get out, then turned on me. He beat the hell out of me, yelling that I was an embarrassment, a failure, all because I loved someone he didn’t want me to love.”

I pause, swallowing hard, feeling the old shame and anger flood back. “My mom was already gone—left when I was four, off chasing her next high. I never really had anyone in my corner. After that night, I couldn’t stay. I packed my bag, disappeared. Slept in my car, curled up in parking lots, sometimes crashed at the gym or on a friend’s couch. But I didn’t want anyone to know why I’d left. Dean was already living with Alex by then, so when I finally let them pull me in, it was like finding my own family. Alex never cared about Dean and me—never made me feel broken or wrong. He let me be exactly who I was, and that’s when things finally started to feel good again.”

I glance at Ayla, letting my guard down. “I’m still not wired to love just one person. I’ve had girlfriends, Dean’s had girlfriends, but what I feel for him has never faded. Even now, with you here, it’s not about choosing. It just means there’s more in my heart.”

She’s silent for a long moment, then, voice barely above a whisper: “So you never tried to work things out with your dad?”

I shake my head. “I reached out a few years ago. He shut me down. I never tried again. His loss. I have my family now.” I say it with a sadness that passes quickly, replaced by a new sense of belonging.

She looks up at me, her gaze searching, vulnerable. “So it really doesn’t bother you?” she asks quietly. “Dean with me? Or me with Alex?”

I shake my head, giving her a gentle, honest smile. “No. Does it bother you, thinking about Dean and me?”

Her lips curve, thoughtful. She considers it, chewing on her bottom lip—a little nervous, a little excited. “Honestly? No,” she admits with a soft laugh. “It’s actually… really interesting. The idea of all of us being connected, wanting each other, sharing this. I thought it would be weird, but it feels right. Like maybe this is what life is supposed to feel like.”

She glances away, a shy smile blooming on her lips. “I can’t exactly explain it, but I don’t want to fight it anymore. I just want to see where it goes.”

For a moment, we just stand there, surrounded by the hush of the woods, the sunlight warm on our faces. I reach for her hand, squeezing gently, and she squeezes back, hope and something like happiness flickering between us.

The second those words leave her lips, something in me snaps—all restraint gone. I surge forward, capturing her mouth with mine, pouring every ounce of want, relief, and pent-up feeling into the kiss. It’s rough at first, all teeth and hunger, but there’s love threaded through it too—a desperate need to show her what she means to me. She melts against me, her hands tangling in my hair as I pull her flush against my chest, breathing her in, letting her scent fill my head. I break away for a heartbeat, just enough to murmur, “Then don’t,” my voice low and certain, before claiming her mouth again, this time slower, deeper, savoring the taste of her like I’ll never get enough.

We lose ourselves in each other, the world falling away until there’s nothing left but the two of us—kissing, gasping, laughing against each other’s mouths. I slide my hands down, gripping her thighs and lifting her easily, her legs wrapping tight around my waist. She fits perfectly, her body molding to mine in a way that feels inevitable, like we were made for this moment. The connection is overwhelming—heat and comfort, hunger and safety, all tangled together. I hold her close, her breath warm against my cheek, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

The sharp sound of Dean’s voice shatters the moment. “Zayn! Now!” he yells, panic and urgency bleeding through every syllable. My heart jolts, adrenaline flooding me as I tear my mouth from Ayla’s, breath still ragged. For a split second, I see the shock and worry flicker across her face—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, her arms still wrapped around my neck. I press one last, fierce kiss to her forehead before setting her down gently. “Come on,” I urge, voice rough, grabbing her hand with shaking fingers. We take off together, feet pounding the dirt path, the weight of whatever’s waiting in the cabin tightening in my chest. Everything between us is unfinished, raw, but right now, all that matters is what’s waiting inside—and the dread I feel growing with every step.

Chapter Seventeen

Dean

Alex and I are frozen, staring at his phone where Ayla’s contact is lighting up the screen. The shrill ring fills the kitchen, slicing through the uneasy silence. Zayn and Ayla walk in, laughter dying on their lips when they see our faces. Zayn’s eyes dart to the phone, reading the tension instantly. “What’s going on?” His voice is sharper than I’ve ever heard it, the kind of tone that makes you realize something is seriously wrong.

Before I can answer, Zayn lunges for the phone, but I shout, “Don’t answer it!” The air is so thick you could choke on it. It can’t be tracked. I made sure of that before we left New York, but I just feel like that's a bad decision. He stops dead, hands raised, eyes wide. The phone keeps ringing, relentless, each buzz ratcheting up the dread in the room. Finally, it goes silent—just for a second—then starts up again, insistent and menacing. No one moves.

When the ringing finally stops for good, there’s a brief, hollow quiet before the sharp ping of a voicemail breaks the tension. Alex grabs the phone, knuckles white, and hits play. This time, Charles’s voice is softer—almost gentle, but there’s an undercurrent of strain. “Ayla, sweetheart, if you’re listening… I just want to know that you’re safe. I miss you. I’m worried about you, and I hope you’ll call me. If the people you’re with are listening, please bring her home. She’s my daughter. I know things have been hard for all of us, but if you bring her back, I can make what happened with Derek disappear. No police, no trouble. Just bring her home, please.”

I watch Ayla’s face drain of all color, her body rigid with fear. Zayn’s fists clench at his sides, jaw ticking as he fights the urge to punch something. My anger flares hot and fast. “We sure as hell aren’t doing that,” I say, my voice low but fierce. “If Charles wants her back, he’ll have to get through me—and I promise, I’ll leave him bleeding before I ever let him touch her again.”

Alex’s answer is ice-cold and final. “Not a fucking chance.”

Ayla’s breathing turns wild, shallow, and uneven, her eyes swimming with tears as she looks pleadingly at all three of us. “You can’t let them take me,” she chokes out, her voice breaking, desperate and raw. “Please. Please, don’t let them take me.” The words cut through every wall I’ve ever built, slicing right to the core of who I am. For a split second, none of us move. Then I’m across the room, pulling her into my arms, holding her tight enough to anchor us both. Alex and Zayn close in too—Alex’s hand steady on her back, Zayn’s fingers gentle on her shoulder. I can feel their presence, the shared promise vibrating in the air between us.

Inside, a dangerous kind of certainty hardens. If they want Ayla, they’ll have to kill me first. Kill all of us. There’s no universe where I let her go without a fight. My anger sharpens, molten and absolute—I’d burn the world down before I let her be taken from us. "Never," I breathe fiercely, pressing a kiss to her hair. "No one will ever take you. Not while we’re alive. They’ll have to go through every last one of us." I mean every single word. My heart hammers with fury. We stand together, a wall around her—ready to face whatever comes, side by side.

“Thank you,” Ayla whispers, her voice so soft it barely carries. She looks at each of us—me, Zayn, Alex—her eyes pleading for reassurance. I want to promise her the world, want to be her anchor, but as she pulls away, her fingers slip from mine and graze Zayn’s hand instead. My chest tightens with a flash of jealousy, a pang so sharp I almost wince. I want to be the one she reaches for, the one she turns to first. But I school my face to calm, not letting it show—I know she needs all of us right now, not just me. She needs safety, not possession.

He squeezes back, offering a quiet, “You’re safe here. We’re not letting anything happen to you. Not now, not ever.” I swallow the disappointment, reminding myself that this isn’t about me, or my ego. It’s about her. As much as I want to be her first choice, I know what matters is that she feels safe—no matter whose hand she holds. And if that means stepping back, I’ll do it. Because caring for her, in this moment, means letting her lean on whoever she needs.

We drift into the living room, weighed down with exhaustion and dread. Ayla curls up with Zayn on the couch, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. Alex takes the other end, his palm resting on her calf, thumb tracing slow circles. I slump into the recliner, watching them—my girl, my friends, my family—all tangled up in each other, and feel a strange peace settle over the chaos.

No one talks at first. The only sound is the TV, movie trailers flickering across the screen. Finally, Alex breaks the silence. “As long as the road is flooded, we’re safe. Tonight, we breathe. Tomorrow, we make a plan.”

Zayn nods, jaw tight. “I’ll stay up, keep watch. You three get some rest. We need our strength.”

Ayla snuggles deeper into Zayn’s side. “I just… don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”

I meet her gaze and give her a gentle smile. “You’re not alone. You’ve got all of us. They’ll have to go through every last one of us to get to you.”