Page 110 of Beautiful When He Breaks

Ryan and Matteo both turn.

The classroom is empty except for the two of them near the front row of desks. Ryan is sitting on the edge of one, posture loose, ankles crossed, gym bag on the floor beside him. Matteo stands in front of him, one hand braced on the desk near Ryan’s thigh, not touching him, but close enough that the air between them looks alive.

Ryan looks like he’s been caught stealing tequila and is deciding whether to deny or double down. “Jules?”

“Are you okay?” I ask him, because my body is still ahead of my logic and refuses to let the question die unspoken.

Ryan straightens so fast the desk creaks under him. His expression flashes through surprise, irritation, and embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, pushing off the desk and grabbing his bag. “I’m good. We were just talking.”

Matteo’s eyes move from Ryan to me with cool interest. That pisses me off, mostly because I’ve had enough of powerful men looking at me like I’m a fact pattern.

I step farther into the room before I can stop myself. “Didn’t sound like just talking.”

“Oh my God,” Ryan mutters under his breath and crosses to me in three quick strides. He catches my arm and starts steering me back toward the hallway. “We’re leaving now before you make this weirder.”

I resist just enough to keep my eyes on Matteo. “Stay away from him.”

Matteo’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Is that right?”

Ryan tightens his grip on my arm. “Julian,” he says, and now his voice has lost the bratty edge completely. “I’m fine.”

I look at him then—his face is flushed, but not with fear, with embarrassment. His eyes are sharp and clear and pissed, yes, but not at Matteo in the way I thought.

The shame hits fast, followed immediately by stubbornness because my body is still flooded with adrenaline and doesn’t know how to stand down cleanly.

“You got pulled into a classroom by an older man who owns part of the school and he told you that you owe him. Forgive me if I’m not feeling fucking relaxed.”

Ryan’s irritation drops away by a degree, replaced by understanding so sudden it almost makes me look away. He gets it. Of course he gets it. Everyone in the house has been walking carefully around the bruised edges of me since Blakely, and Ryan, for all his chaos, isn’t careless when it matters.

“I know,” he says. “But it’s not like that.”

“I understand why you are protective,” Matteo says. “I also understand why this looked wrong to you. What happened to you should not have happened, and you’re right to distrust powerful men behind closed doors.”

Ryan shifts beside me, jaw tightening. “Matteo.”

Matteo glances at him briefly, and whatever passes between them is too fast for me to read fully, but not too fast to understand there is history here. Real history, not some sudden grab in a hallway. Something with rules neither of them has explained and tension neither of them is successfully hiding.

Then Matteo looks back at me. “But I am not Blakely.”

My stomach twists hard.

“You’re an owner, and he’s a student-athlete.”

Matteo’s eyes darken. “I know what I am.”

“Then act like it,” I grit out.

Ryan’s grip tightens once, this time in warning. “Jules, I said I’m okay, and I mean it. I appreciate the guard dog routine, especially because your timing is fucking insane today, but I’m okay.”

I exhale slowly. “You’re sure?”

Ryan’s face softens for half a second. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

I look past him to Matteo one last time. “If he ever isn’t okay, there are a lot of us.”

Ryan says, “Jesus Christ,” at the same time Luca mutters, “Subtle,” behind me.