“Giselle—”
“Heavy… you don’t owe me anything,” she said, her voice tight and brittle. “You and Prischa have history. That’s real… and I get that.”
Turning to her, he extended his arm across the seat to touch her, but she rejected him. Swiveling her head in his direction, tears swelled in her eyes. He held his hand up.
“History don’t matter, princess. You do.”
She flinched at the intensity in his voice, but somehow, she didn’t believe him. Not after what she saw and heard tonight. Or maybe it was an excuse for her to run from this too.
“You were upset,” she whispered. “More upset than you want to admit.”
Heavy’s jaw worked, and he looked away. That was her answer.
“Can you just take us home?”
He frowned. “Home? I had something I wanted to show you.”
“They’ll be sleep on the drive, and I need some space right now to breathe.”
The fact that she wouldn’t allow him to touch her made his chest seize. He wasn’t good with feelings, but it felt like he was losing something, and he didn’t like that. She was pulling away.
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly.
“Heavy, please just take us home,” she requested, voice cracking as she turned away from him and looked out her window.
Staring at her, heart pounding, a sinking weight that he didn’t have words for hung from his neck. Suddenly, it was like she was an outsider again. The girl from the wrong world. An intruder. When they pulled up to her house, she got out and unloaded a sleeping Harlee while he did the same with Heir. Giselle let them into the house and carried her daughter into her bedroom where she placed her in her bed and took her shoes off. Heavy removed Heir’s shoes and pulled the covers over him as well. She left the room before he could even say anything and padded down the hall to the front entry to let him out.
“I get it. You’re entitled to how you feel, but I’m not staying away from them.”
“I don’t expect you to.” She looked at the ground with her hand against the doorknob. “Goodnight.” Her tone was even, glacial.
All he could do was walk away, knowing he had caused this, and he had no one to blame but himself. Giselle closed and locked the door behind him, then turned and pressed her backagainst it. She let go of a shaky breath and decided to shower before heading to bed for the night. She had to work in the morning and wanted to rinse this day off.
“Well, you two know how to keep things interesting around here, don’t ya?” Horace kidded, helping Petal wash dishes at the sink.
It was something he’d done the entire time they had been married. Viggo always thought they had some stimulating conversations busting suds because they both seemed to be in a good mood when they skipped off after the kitchen was clean. He glanced at Prischa across the island in the kitchen and shoved the last forkful of apple pie into his mouth before walking the dish over to the sink.
“It could have gone worse.” Prischa finally broke the silence.
“How?” Viggo lifted a brow.
“I don’t know. Fire? A tornado?” She huffed with a weak laugh.
Viggo wasn’t amused. He saw the look behind his cousin’s eyes.
“Heavy’s pissed.”
“He’ll get over it,” Horace assured them from the sink.
“Will you?” Viggo checked with Prischa.
“I can’t control how he reacts to anything. It was just one night… Viggo. And you left in the middle of the night without a word.”
“Something came up?—”
“You could have said something!” Prischa snapped. “Instead, you left me hanging like I was just some random ass bitch.”
Viggo blinked, stunned. He hadn’t expected that reaction from her. In all honesty, he did have some business to handle,but he planned to get back with her. He rounded the counter and stopped a space away from her.
