His "Female Bro" Cost Him Everything

The airport terminal buzzed around me. I dialed Harrison’s number again. Voicemail. Brenda picked up the microphone for her third and final boarding call.

Right on cue, my screen lit up with his text. "Emergency. Let's reschedule the flight." Air stalled in my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut.

I’d lost count of how many times he’d flaked on me. A numb swipe unlocked my phone. Sydney’s social media update flashed on my screen. "Still my favorite guy.

Told him I was craving a spicy seafood boil, and he showed up right at my door!~" In the photo, Harrison sat barechested, entirely focused on peeling a shrimp for her.

I let out a cold scoff. I opened the booking app and hit 'Cancel' on his itinerary.

Then, I grabbed my carryon and boarded the flight to Switzerland. … Chapter 1 My boots hit the Swiss tarmac. My phone practically vibrated out of my palm.

A barrage of texts from Harrison. I shoved the phone into my pocket, but it immediately started ringing. I stared at his name flashing on the screen.

My thumb swiped the green icon. "Maeve, why the hell aren't you answering my texts?" Harrison's accusatory tone grated against my ear. "Don't tell me you actually got on the flight." "Sorry, missed it." My voice sounded flat, hollowed out. "I was already boarding." A beat of silence crackled over the line. "Babe," he started, his voice shifting into that placating, testing pitch. "Are you in Switzerland now?

Just wait for me at the hotel. I just got to the airport." I pressed my lips together. "Babe, my bad," he coaxed. "I should've texted sooner. But something came up.

You understand, right?

I'll make it up to you when I get there." A scoff ripped past my lips. "Something came up." A convenient excuse to play knightinshiningarmor for his "bro." My chest tightened, a familiar phantom ache from a year of this exact cycle.

Every single time we had plans, Sydney manufactured a crisis. Last April. I shivered under three blankets, burning up with a 102degree fever. I begged him to bring me medicine.

Instead, Sydney called, hysterically threatening to jump off her balcony over a family fight. Harrison bolted.

He arrived at her place, only to find out she was playing a twisted April Fool’s prank. June. My Master’s graduation. The day I’d worked years for.

The night before, Sydney claimed a devastating heartbreak. She dragged Harrison to a bar and made him take shots until dawn.

They slept off the hangover in her apartment until the next evening. He missed me crossing the stage. The memories didn't bring tears anymore.

Just a heavy, suffocating exhaustion in my ribs. I’d screamed. I’d shattered glasses. I’d packed my bags and threatened to leave a dozen times. Harrison’s reaction never changed.

He’d cross his arms, stare at me coldly, and tell me to stop acting crazy. So now, I stopped. I had originally booked this trip to celebrate our anniversary.

Now, it was a breakup trip. "Okay," I murmured, my voice flat. I ended the call.

I flagged down a taxi and headed straight to the resort, dragging my luggage into the empty suite alone.

The shrill ringtone of my phone dragged me out of a deep sleep the next morning.

I fumbled for it on the nightstand and pressed it to my ear. "Maeve, I told you to pick me up at arrivals! Where the hell are you?" Harrison barked.

I rubbed the heel of my hand against my gritty eyes. "I'm sleeping," I rasped. "Call an Uber." I hit the red button and tossed the phone onto the carpet. My eyes drifted shut.

Ten minutes later, a muffled shriek pierced the wall. Then a thud. My jaw clenched. I threw off the duvet, the remnants of my sleep utterly ruined.

I marched out into the hallway, ready to chew out whoever was in the adjacent room. I raised my knuckles and rapped sharply against the wood. The door wasn't latched.

It swung wide open. Chapter 2 My eyes locked onto the bed. Harrison had Sydney pinned beneath him.

Their limbs were tangled, chests heaving as they wrestled and shrieked with laughter.

The second he spotted me in the doorway, Harrison scrambled off the mattress. "Sydney just quit her job," he blurted out, smoothing down his shirt. "She needed to clear her head." He took a step toward me. "Since we were already taking a trip, I figured the more the merrier.

So she tagged along." A hollow smile touched my lips. "So you're sharing a room?" Harrison's jaw tightened defensively. "She's basically one of the guys!

Stop overthinking it." Sydney didn't miss a beat. She slung a casual arm around Harrison's shoulders, grinning. "We're just bros, wifey.

You don't mind, right?" I stared at her, my face a deadpan mask.

She tilted her head. "Wait, are you actually mad we're splitting a room?" She waved a dismissive hand. "I swear, I don't get you girls and your toxic drama.

I literally see him as a brother!" Harrison barked a laugh, feigning outrage. His fingers dug into Sydney’s sides, tickling her waist.

She squealed, and they collapsed back onto the bed in a giggling heap. I stood perfectly still, watching the spectacle. "I don't mind." My voice was a flat, quiet line.

Harrison froze. His hands dropped from Sydney's waist. He stared at me, visibly stunned that I wasn't screaming or throwing luggage. His mouth opened to speak.

I didn't give him the chance. I stepped back, grabbed the handle, and pulled my door closed. The click of the latch cut off their noise.

I grabbed my goggles and headed straight for the slopes. The ski lift jerked into motion. Almost instantly, a familiar, highpitched giggle echoed from the chair behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder. Sydney was shaking with laughter, practically melting into Harrison's chest.

The guy sitting next to me on the lift followed my gaze. "They make a cute couple," Leon remarked smoothly. I nodded in agreement. Even total strangers assumed they were a couple.

I used to throw fits over this kind of stuff. I used to argue with him until I was exhausted.

Harrison would just stare down at me, his eyes laced with absolute disgust. "Just because you don't have guy friends, Maeve, doesn't give you the right to demonize my friendship with Sydney!

No wonder Trevor spread those slutshaming rumors about you! You're the one with the filthy mind!" The memory hit me like a physical blow. Back in college, Trevor had asked me out.

I had rejected him. His ego shattered, so he retaliated with a vicious, schoolwide slutshaming campaign against me. The fallout suffocated me.

I spiraled into a deep depression and had to take a leave of absence. It was the darkest, most agonizing wound of my life.

And the man who claimed to love me weaponized it to win an argument. The sickest part? His gaslighting worked. For a long time, I actually believed my trauma made me toxic.

I brainwashed myself into accepting their "pure friendship." But the illusion eventually shattered. Once I saw the blatant disrespect, the truth locked into place.

I wasn't the broken one. Slowly, I began piecing my own fractured mind back together. Thin, icy mist whipped across my cheeks.

I snapped my gaze forward, erasing them from my periphery. I clicked my boots into the bindings and pushed off the edge. The wind roared in my ears.

I carved down the mountain, letting the adrenaline flush the toxicity from my veins. For a few blissful hours, they didn't exist. My thighs eventually burned with exhaustion.

I slowed my momentum, coasting toward the lodge to rest. I hadn't even unclipped my bindings when a bloodcurdling shriek ripped through the air. Sydney. I turned.

A massive, outofcontrol blur barreled straight at me. Zero time to brace. She slammed into me at full speed. The edge of her snowboard rammed into my ankle. Crack.

Bone ground against bone. Pain shot up my calf. The shockwave stole the oxygen straight from my lungs. My vision fractured into sharp, blinding white stars.

Chapter 3 Snow crunched under heavy boots. Harrison dropped to his knees, his hands frantically hovering over Sydney before he gently hauled her upright.

His eyes then snapped to me, still sprawled in the slush. The panic in his eyes quickly turned to fury. "Maeve, she was screaming!

Why the hell didn't you move?" His voice boomed over the howling wind. "This is a black diamond trail!

If you don't know how to ski, get your ass back to the bunny slopes!" My gloved hands clamped around my ankle. Iron flooded my mouth—I was biting my lower lip so hard it bled.

Hot, stinging moisture pooled in my eyes, blurring the glaring white snow. I had been carving these mountains for six years.

Sydney was the one who had never strapped into bindings before today. The words bottlenecked in my throat, choked back by the sickening throb in my leg.

I shoved my hands into the powder to push myself up, but my leg instantly gave out. A pathetic, ragged gasp escaped me.

I could only sit there, paralyzed in the freezing powder, watching Harrison scoop Sydney into his arms. He didn't look back once. My ribcage contracted.

A sharp, physical ache that had nothing to do with my crushed ankle.

I dug my fingers into the ice, bracing for another agonizing attempt to stand. "Maeve?" A deep, familiar timber vibrated through the crisp air. "What are you doing here?" My spine stiffened.

A messy mix of humiliation and relief hit me. I forced a tight smile. "Hey. Small world…" The attempt shifted my weight. A whitehot spike of agony shot up my calf.

A violent hiss tore through my teeth. Asher’s brows slammed together. In a blink, he was crouched in front of me, his large, gloved hands deftly unlatching my bindings.

I opened my mouth to protest. One hard, uncompromising look from him silenced me. Without a word of warning, thick arms slid under my knees and my back. The world tilted.

A startled yelp slipped out as he hoisted me flush against his chest. My arms shot out, instinctively locking around his neck for balance.

He smelled like pine and expensive clean laundry. I blinked, my face inches from his jawline. For a fraction of a second, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

A ghost of a smirk. Inside the warming hut, Asher lowered me onto a leather bench. He dropped to one knee, stripping off his heavy gloves.

His fingers, surprisingly warm, wrapped delicately around my swollen joint.

He slowly and carefully rotated my ankle. "Don't think it's broken," he murmured, his gaze tracing the bruising. "But looking at you…" My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms.

I locked my jaw, refusing to make a sound. Asher tilted his chin up, his dark eyes locking onto mine. He opened his hand.

A small, foilwrapped candy rested in his palm. "If it hurts, scream. Stop swallowing it down." His thumb brushed the back of my hand. "Sugar.

It helps with the shock." I hesitated, then peeled the foil back and popped it into my mouth. A comforting sweetness spread across my tongue.

He gently rolled down the hem of my snow pants, covering the injury. "You fly out here by yourself?" he asked casually, not looking up. Silence hung heavy in the air between us.

He didn't push. He smoothly pivoted the conversation, asking for the name of my resort. Turns out, we were booked at the exact same lodge.

He didn't ask; he just told me he was taking me back. I had barely limped into my suite and dropped onto the mattress when my phone buzzed.

I stared at my swollen, purple ankle, a bitter wave of selfmockery washing over me. I was halfcrippled, yet he hadn't sent a single text to check if I was alive.

Harrison. "You back at the hotel?" "Yeah," I replied, my voice completely dead. A throat cleared on the other end. "Babe. Look, I snapped earlier. My bad.

Don't let it ruin the trip." My pulse slowed.

A tiny, pathetic part of me thought he was actually checking on my injury. "So, um…" His voice dipped, losing its confident swagger. "Can you transfer me five grand?" I stopped breathing. "Got into a massive blowout with my dad.

He literally froze all my cards." The background noise sounded like a highend restaurant.

Clinking glass, soft jazz. "Sydney and I just finished dinner, and my Amex just declined." A bitter laugh escaped me.

I really didn't know the man I had dated for years at all. "Then tell Sydney to pull out her wallet." Harrison exhaled sharply.

I could practically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose, suppressing his temper. "Babe, don't start the toxic act again, okay? Whenever I go out with the bros, I cover the tab.

Besides, Sydney is a girl. How could I make her pay?" Chapter 4 Harrison was a trustfund kid, but he guarded his wallet like I was a gold digger.

With me, every single date was split strictly 50/50.

When he hung out with Sydney, he claimed she was just "one of the guys." Yet the second they sat down at a restaurant together, he suddenly morphed into a perfect, chivalrous gentleman paying the tab.

I saw right through their "just bros" bullshit. It was nothing but a pathetic cover for their emotional affair. I gave him a flat "Not happening" and hung up.

Without hesitating, I pulled up his profile and blocked his number across every single platform. A quiet knock broke the silence. I hobbled to the door and pulled it open.

Asher stood in the hallway. He held up a brown paper takeout bag, a sly, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Hungry?" Right on cue, my stomach let out a loud, traitorous growl.

A hot flush crept up the tips of my ears. I stepped aside to let him in. Minutes later, we were sitting crosslegged on the floor, falling into an easy rhythm like old friends.

We traded casual updates, smoothly dodging the massive elephant in the room. Neither of us brought up the past. I was the one who had ghosted him, severing all our ties years ago.

But looking at his relaxed posture, he seemed totally unfazed by it. My mind drifted, my gaze accidentally tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "Maeve?

Earth to Maeve." Asher waved a large hand in front of my face. I flinched. The takeout container slipped from my grip. Warm sauce splashed directly onto the center of his chest.

A gasp ripped from my throat. My hands shot out instinctively. I grabbed a napkin and pressed it against his shirt, frantically dabbing at the mess.

The heat radiating from his skin seared right through the damp fabric. My knuckles brushed against his solid abs beneath the cotton. My breath hitched in my throat.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. I felt the vibration travel straight through my fingertips. "Still as clumsy as ever," he murmured.

His dark eyes dropped to where my hand was planted against his chest. "Mind if I use your bathroom?

Need to wash this off." I gave a jerky nod, pulling my hand back like I’d been burned.

While the faucet ran in the bathroom, I picked up the hotel landline and dialed housekeeping to swap out the stained bedsheets. I left the front door cracked open for the staff.

Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor. I glanced up, expecting a maid cart. Instead, Harrison shoved the door wide open, marching in with Sydney glued to his side.

My brows snapped together. "What the hell are you doing here?" Harrison’s face was twisted in an ugly scowl. "Why did you block me?" he demanded. "I asked for a simple loan, and you throw a massive tantrum?

It’s not like I can’t pay you back! Or is this just another one of your pathetic mind games?

Playing hard to get because you're jealous of Sydney?" My voice was dead flat. "I'm not jealous.

Because if there was actually anything between you two, I wouldn't have even stood a chance." Sydney had used those exact words to mock me months ago.

Spitting them back now tasted like pure, metallic irony. Sydney crossed her arms, staring down her nose at me. "Look, Maeve.

I know my existence is a massive threat to you." She rolled her eyes heavily. "Fine. After this trip, I'll cut contact with Harrison. Happy now?

Imagine losing your rideordie over a relationship. Hilarious." She sneered. "Have fun dating a highmaintenance drama queen.

One argument and she gives you the silent treatment!" Sydney stormed out, slamming the heavy door so hard the hinges rattled.

Harrison instantly pivoted, his body shifting to chase after her. "Harrison." My voice cracked like a whip. He stopped. I stared straight into his eyes. Empty.

Done. "We're over." Harrison froze.

He spun back around, letting out a harsh, exasperated breath. "Are you seriously pulling this drama right now?" He threw his hands up in the air. "Sydney and I are strictly platonic!

Stop projecting your own filthy mindset onto us!" He took a step closer.

His lip curled into a vicious, ugly sneer. "You always cry about those slutshaming rumors Trevor spread about you. Honestly? I bet every single word of it was true.

You were just pissed you got exposed, so you played the victim." A ringing sound filled my ears, and a cold sweat slicked the back of my neck. Chapter 5