"No," the three voices echoed simultaneously, extinguishing our fleeting glimmers of hope with synchronized frowns.

Summer’s eyes pleaded, desperate to crack the impassive expressions before her. "Please, you have to let us throw the party! Just this once!" Her voice was threaded with earnestness, fragile yet persistent.

I couldn’t resist the urge to deploy my secret weapon—I pushed out my bottom lip and widened my eyes in a practiced pout, locking eyes with Xavier. That look had softened him countless times when we were kids; maybe it still held some magic.

Inside, I smirked at my own hopeful cunning.

"Come on, Xav," I coaxed. "We’re turning eighteen soon. Isn’t that worth celebrating?"

The stoic mask he wore momentarily cracked, his eyes flickering with reluctant tenderness. It was faint, but it meant he was thinking about it.

He sighed with the kind of exaggerated patience that said he’d lost this round. That sound captured Aiden’s and Tristan’s attention immediately.

"You’re actually considering it?" Tristan barked, throwing his hands in the air with theatrical disbelief.

"What’s it to you?" I shot back, crossing my arms defiantly.

He shot me a sharp glare but remained silent.

"Fine. Have the party," Xavier finally relented, his voice steady yet tinged with warning. "But," he added, and the room fell silent as we hung on his words, "we’re all going to be there."

Summer and I exchanged a glance, bursting into grins as wide and bright as any teenager’s. We bounced excitedly on our feet, the earlier tension dissolving into childish glee as we squealed our thanks, ignoring the amused smirks of the two silent observers.

We dashed upstairs without a second thought, my room becoming our sanctuary as soon as the door clicked shut behind us.

Summer wasted no time, leaping onto my bed with the grace of a cat, while I settled down beside her, a slow smile tugging at my lips. "I’m so excited," I murmured, the words barely escaping through my grin.

We lay there, eyes tracing the cracked ceiling paint in companionable silence. My mind raced with thoughts of the party—who’d show, how Jason would react if he realized my brothers would be under the same roof. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him yet. He could get possessive, flaunting our relationship in ways that grated on me—calling me 'baby' suddenly around others, a nickname he reserved only for private moments, now weaponized to mark territory.

Summer’s voice broke through, soft and curious. "When are you telling them?"

I shifted my gaze toward her, the question hanging heavy between us. "About Jason?" she clarified, reading the confusion on my face.

"Yeah. When do you think is the right time?" I answered, eyes drifting back to the ceiling, wishing for a simple answer—one that never came.

"Please say never," I thought, though I knew that wasn’t her style.

Summer grinned, that infuriatingly sincere smile of hers. "Now. At dinner."

My eyes shot open in disbelief. Sitting upright against my headboard, I stared at her, caught somewhere between panic and resignation. She was already braiding her vibrant red hair over her shoulder, looking as calm and certain as ever.

"I can’t tell them tonight," I protested softly. "It’s too soon. The poor guy would probably die on his eighteenth birthday. Imagine," I gestured theatrically with my hands, pulling them apart slowly like framing a headline, "cause of death: murdered by ex-girlfriend’s mafia brothers after revealing their secret relationship." I gasped in mock horror.

Summer laughed, joining in the invisible sign with her hands. "You forgot to add ‘and their best friend’ to the list," she teased, eyes twinkling.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. She always had that way of making things seem lighter, even when the weight felt unbearable.

"Aves, the longer you keep it from them, the worse their reaction’s going to be," she said, her voice softening. "You’ve been carrying that secret for a year now, haven’t you?" Her tone shifted, more serious, as she settled back onto the bed.

I nodded slowly, the truth settling in my chest like a stone.

"Okay, I’ll do it," I said finally, meeting her hopeful gaze. "But only if you tell them about Asher." Her face pinched into a frown, but she agreed grudgingly.

The rest of the evening slipped by in an easy rhythm—nail polish colors debated, plans for the party sketched out with excitement, and strategies for breaking the news rehearsed with nervous laughter.

"You ready?" Summer asked as she tied her hair up in a ponytail, strands escaping to frame her animated face. At this rate, she’d be bald by next year.

"Not even close," I sighed, taking a deep breath and opening the door.

We stepped cautiously into the hallway, descending the stairs past the nearly empty foyer where moonlight glanced off the polished floor. The living room buzzed faintly with muffled voices, and I felt the familiar weight of the family’s presence like a shadow stretched across the walls.

The kitchen was warmer, filled with the low hum of conversation, and through the archway, the dining room waited—its black table a stark contrast to the gleaming chandelier above. Everyone was gathered there. Xavier commanded one end of the table with his imposing presence, Aiden seated at the opposite side like a sentinel.

We slipped into our seats quietly, the chatter swallowing us up as if we were ghosts. I found myself wedged between Summer and Zach, facing Tristan, Hunter, Parker, and Ashton.

For a moment, the room felt like a picture-perfect family gathering—full of laughter, teasing, and shared stories.

Summer leaned in and whispered, "Do it now." A shiver ran down my spine, and I swallowed a bite of spaghetti, trying to steady my nerves. The noise was a blessing—no one could overhear our quiet exchange, I hoped.

"I’m not ready," I whispered back, shaking my head. "I can’t just blurt it out. It’s too soon for them to know about Jason."

"We’ll say it together," she insisted.

"Wait, so we’re just gonna blurt it out?" I asked, surprised. Summer never jumped into serious moments without some kind of prelude.

"Ye—" she began but was cut off.

"What are you two whispering about?" Tristan’s curious voice cut through the din, and all eyes turned toward us.

My heart hammered as I felt a sharp jab on my knee. "Ow!" I hissed, glancing at Summer, who shot me a no-escape, tell-them-now look.

Trying to steady my voice, I cleared my throat. "We have to tell you something."

Xavier’s expression darkened instantly, concern etching his face before suspicion settled in. I knew anger was just a breath away.

"Well, spit it out," Hunter urged, his voice calm but expectant.

Summer took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We have boyfriends," I started, the words tasting foreign on my tongue. We exchanged nervous glances, bracing ourselves for impact.

The dining room filled with stunned silence for a heartbeat, then Ashton blurted out, "Are you two together?! I knew you weren’t just best friends! I just want to say, it’s totally cool, as long as you don’t make out in front of me."

Our mouths dropped open in unison, disbelief plastered across our faces.

"What are you talking about?" Summer frowned, bewildered.

"You change in front of each other, go to the bathroom together—even sleep in the same bed," Ashton rambled, voice rising, then dropped to a sheepish whisper, "But, hey, that’s fine." He tilted his head like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Summer and I exchanged a hurried glance before both shouting, "We’re not together!"

The guys erupted into laughter, Ashton reddening as he looked down at his plate.

"Alright, alright," he mumbled, cheeks flushing pink. "Go on, then."

Taking a deep breath, Summer resumed, "So, like we said, we have boyfriends. And we wanted you all to know."

Eyes flicked around the table, searching faces, waiting for reactions. The room was thick with anticipation, the silence pressing in like the calm before a storm.

For the first time in a long while, secrets felt ready to be spoken aloud, carving space for honesty—even in the shadows of our bloodline.