“There’s a reason I don’t talk to them anymore,” I mutter, folding my arms. “Let’s leave it at that.”
But of course, he doesn’t. He keeps that spotlight on me like I volunteered for it, like he’s owed my worst memories just because he held me through one nightmare.
It’s not fair.
And it’s not how this works.
What would he do if I threw the same questions back at him? If I asked abouther—his wife, his ghost, the reason his eyes go cold when he thinks I’m not looking?
I doubt he’d be half as generous with the truth.
Which is exactly why, when he’s out with Talia tonight, I’m going digging. Deep.
He wants my secrets? Fine.
But now it’s his turn.
“So? What do you think—fucked up enough for you?” I shoot, words sharp and practiced like a blade I’ve used too often. “Don’t waste your pity on me. I’m past the whole ‘poor me, he touched me’ narrative. It’s done. Buried. End of story.”
My voice cracks on the edge of something I refuse to acknowledge, so I push harder.
“And now that Adam’s out of the picture too? There’s nothing left to rehash. So, let’s not, yeah? Just… don’t bring it up again.”
I’m the one in control now. Drawing my own lines in the sand. And if he thinks he’s going to play shrink—poke around in my bruises and call it healing—he’s got the wrong girl.
He’s not a therapist.
He’s not my saviour.
He’s just trying to size up the damage before deciding if I’m still worth the chase. Testing the cracks before he tries to tug on my heartstrings again.
And I can save him the trouble.
It’s not worth it.
I’mnot worth it.
“I don’t pity you.”
I freeze mid-chew, fork suspended halfway to my mouth. His voice is flat—too steady—and when I glance up, he’s watching me like he’s already ten moves ahead.
Then his gaze drags down my body.
Slow.
Measuring.
When his eyes meet mine again, I feel flayed open—like he’s dissecting me with every blink.
“I’m just trying to figure out how many more assholes I need to kill,” he adds, calm as anything.
Is he serious?
He looks serious.
No twitch of a smile. No trace of humour. Just that same impossible stillness he carries when he’s deciding whether to pull the trigger.
A chill coils down my spine.
