The look guts me.
It’s not judgment exactly, but confusion, surprise, and hurt all rolled into one.
Like a thousand questions just detonated behind his eyes all at once, all of them saying:his boy?
Embarrassment hits me first, crawling up my neck until my ears burn from it.
Then comes something deeper: shame.
I want to explain, to sayHe’s lying. He’s not Eli’s dad, he’s not his, please don’t look at me like that.
But the words tangle somewhere between my lungs and my tongue, and nothing comes out.
Jared sees it, of course he does.
He always has.
He feeds on moments like this, on the way I shrink when his voice cuts through the air when insulting me, on the way I freeze under the spotlight he drags me into.
It’s a power play he’s perfected, a predator’s patience, the kind that waits for the smallest weakness before sinking its teeth in.
“Oh, what, didn’t tell your new boyfriends the truth, Noelle?” he sneers, his words thick with venom. “Didn’t tell them you’ve been keeping my kid away from me?”
The accusation lands like a slap.
My body reacts before my brain can catch up—shoulders curling in, arms wrapping around my body like I can hold myself together with sheer force.
I take a step back, then another, the carpet rough beneath my heels. Every inch I put between us feels like survival, but it’s never enough.
He’s still in my head, twisting the truth into something filthy.
Shame seeps in like cold water rising fast. I can feel Dean’s stare burning into the side of my face, the confusion, the disbelief, maybe even betrayal. I can’t look at him.
I can’t look at any of them.
My throat aches with the effort to keep from crying, from screaming, from falling apart in front of the men who were never supposed to see this side of my life.
Then I hit something solid behind me.
For a split second, I flinch, bracing for Jared’s hand again, an old instinct ingrained in me.
But instead, I feel a steady, grounding pressure on my shoulders. Warm and gentle.
“Hey,” a low voice says near my ear.
I tilt my head up and meet Callum’s eyes.
He’s standing right behind me, his jaw tight.
His hands stay firm on my shoulders, anchoring me, silently telling me he’s there and that I’m not alone this time.
Across the hall, Grant moves until his body is blocking most of the doorway.
“Leave. Or we’ll call the cops,” he bites out.
Jared hesitates.
For the first time, his swagger falters, his eyes flicking between him and Dean.
