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. Asher stood by the mixing board radiating that particular brand of controlled fury that made my stomach clench. Finn leaned against the piano, but his trademark easy smile had gone AWOL.
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."
"Yeah, where'd you disappear so fast?" Finn's tone was light, but I caught the hurt underneath it.
Liam didn't say anything at first, just looked at me with those piercing green eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Did I do something wrong?"
The question hit me like a punch.
"I had other work to catch up on," I said weakly.
"Other work," Asher repeated, voice flat.
Before I could respond, the studio door opened with a sharp click. Adelyn swept in with that bright but forced smile I'd grown to dread.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said, eyes immediately finding mine, "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. "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. "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."
Something flickered across Adelyn's expression — surprise, annoyance — but she recovered fast.
"Of course. I'll take care of it." She turned and left, heels clicking like a countdown timer.
I watched her go, something twisting in my stomach. Liam had protected me. Dismissed her with that quiet authority that made people obey.
But had he done the same for Adelyn once? Made her feel special — right up until he didn't?
"She's been glued to you lately," Finn muttered. "Like a shadow you can't shake."
And something in me snapped.
"You see that?" I gestured toward the door. "That's why I've been avoiding you. That right there."
Asher's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Adelyn." I laughed, but it came out bitter. "She's not just being nosy. She's building a case. There are rumors all over the office — whispers that stop when I walk by, comments about my 'late nights' and 'executive demands.'" I looked directly at Liam. "I told you. Weeks ago. I told you she was a problem, that she knew about us, that she was watching me like a hawk."
Liam's expression shifted. "Jasmine —"
"You all promised to handle it," I cut him off, voice rising. "You said you'd take care of it. That I didn't need to worry." I spread my hands. "And what changed? Nothing. It's only gotten worse. She cornered me in the break room. She humiliated me in front of half the Marketing department. She's talking to people about me — I heard her on the phone saying my full name to someone."
The silence was suffocating.
"So yes," I continued, forcing my voice steady. "I decided to handle it myself. The only way I knew how. By being so boring, so invisible, so professionally distant that she'd have nothing to report. No ammunition to use." I looked between them. "Because you weren't going to protect me. So I had to protect myself."
Finn's face had gone pale. Asher's jaw was tight enough to crack.
But it was Liam who stepped forward, and the guilt in his eyes nearly undid me.
"You're right," he said quietly. "We failed you."
"Liam —"
"No." He shook his head. "You came to us with a problem, and we dismissed it. Told you we'd handle it and then... didn't. That's on us. On me."
"We should have dealt with her weeks ago," Asher said, voice rough. "I'll handle it. Personally."
"That's not —" I exhaled. "That's not the point. The point is I can't rely on anyone else to fix things for me. I never could. I've been taking care of myself and everyone around me my entire life. Old habits don't die just because three men tell me not to worry."
"Then let us earn your trust," Finn said. No humor this time. Just raw honesty. "We fucked up. Let us fix it."
Part of me wanted to reach for them — all three of them — and let the walls crumble. That was the problem with being someone who looked for light everywhere. Even when I was trying to hide, I kept wanting to be found.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted. "I don't know how to be professional during the day and then... whatever we are at night. I don't know how to trust that this won't blow up in my face."
"You don't have to figure it out alone," Liam said. "That's what we're trying to tell you."
"Come to dinner tonight," Asher said. "Liam's place. Nothing complicated. Just us."
"I don't know if that's a good idea."
"It's a terrible idea," Finn agreed with a slight smile. "Most of our best ones are."
"Please," Liam added, and the simple word carried more weight than any argument could have. "Let us take care of you. Just for one evening."
I looked between them, seeing the guilt and the hope written on their faces. The realization that they actually cared — that my withdrawal had hurt them — made something crack open in my chest.
"Okay," I whispered finally. "Okay."
The word felt like surrender. But underneath the fear, something else — relief. Like I'd been holding my breath for days and finally remembered how to exhale.
Asher's shoulders dropped. Finn's smile returned. Liam's eyes softened with something that looked like gratitude.
"Seven o'clock," Liam said. "I'll send a car."
"I can drive myself —"
"Seven o'clock," he repeated firmly.
As they filed out, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts, I realized I was deeper than I'd ever intended to be. Their refusal to let me disappear, their admission of failure, their determination to earn my trust — it was overwhelming and terrifying and exactly what I hadn't known I needed.
What the hell was I getting myself into?