“It’s not like that.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
“Ella—“
“No.” She cuts me off with a raised hand. “You don’t get to make this choice for me.” Her voice shakes with fury. “You think I care what they think?” She continues. “You think their approval is what I need to choose you?”
“It matters,” I say, trying to stay steady. “They matter.”
“And you don’t?”
God. That hits harder than all the punches we didn’t throw this morning.
She steps closer, chest rising and falling fast. “I stood between you and three grown men today. I defended you. I took their anger head-on. I chose you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“But I did it anyway!” She presses a hand to her chest. “Because you’re worth it. Because I want us. Because I’m willing to fight for this, for you.” Her voice breaks. “Why aren’t you?”
I close my eyes. “Ella…”
“No,” she whispers fiercely. “Tell me. Why aren’t you fighting for me?”
The truth sits heavy and bitter at the back of my throat. “Because I don’t want to ruin your life.”
She recoils like I slapped her. “My life?” she repeats, stunned.
“You’re twenty-six. Young, beautiful, brilliant. You have everything in front of you. And I’m…”
I laugh once, humorless. “I’m a decade older. Divorced. A single dad with a complicated past and a mess of an ex who won’t leave us alone. Your brothers weren’t wrong. I don’t have anything to offer you.”
She stares at me like her heart just cracked open. “That’s not true,” she whispers.
“That’s exactly true.”
“No,” she says again, stronger, stepping forward. “That’s your cowardice talking. That’s fear.”
I look away. She grabs my chin, forces me to meet her eyes. “You want to push me away because you’re scared? Fine. Say that. But don’t you dare pretend it’s for my sake.”
“Shiloh—“
“No.” Her voice is tight, trembling. “You are a coward if you think walking away is easier than trying. If you think letting me go is ‘doing the right thing.’”
My jaw clenches. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.” She steps back, shaking her head. “I’m ready to fight my whole family for you, but you won’t even fight yourself.”
Her words land hard enough to bruise. Then she inhales sharply, eyes glistening, but she doesn’t let the tears fall. She won’t give me that.
“You think you’re protecting me,” she says quietly. “But really, you’re just letting fear ruin something good.”
She turns away.
“Ella—“
But she’s already walking—fast, angry, hurt. She reaches the door, jerks it open, then stops, just for a heartbeat, shoulders stiff. Without looking back, she says, voice razor-thin: “I thought you were strong. Turns out I was wrong.”
And then she’s gone. Running to the main house, and I don’t chase her. I don’t move. I don’t have the energy to. Her absence floods the cabin instantly, like the air itself is thinner without her.
