Eli nods. "Top five. Minimum."
Colby fans himself. "I suddenly need ice."
I glare at all of them. "This isn’t funny. It’s awkward and confusing."
"I… don’t want any of this," I whisper. "Not the flowers. Not the dramatics. Not whatever game he thinks he’s playing."
Bryce’s jaw flexes once. Controlled. Contained. But deeply felt.
The chaos trio backs up like they know better than to stand between a woman and the man she is very clearly trying not to fall for.
"Then he doesn’t get access to you anymore. Not here. Not at work. Not in your life."
Something in me wavers, fear and relief colliding.
"Bryce… it’s complicated."
He holds my gaze. Unblinking. Steady.
"No. It’s not. He cheated. You left. You healed. He doesn’t get to walk back in because he remembered what he lost.
I don’t know what to say because part of me wants to argue, and another part of me wants to lean into him and let that sentence break every wall I’ve built.
Then…
My phone vibrates. Once. Twice. A third time. Persistent. Targeted. Wrong.
Caller ID lights the screen in bold letters:
Mark.
The boys react instantly.
Eli: “Nope.” Dex: “Absolutely not.” Colby: “What an asshole.”
But Bryce...he doesn’t move. He doesn’t joke. He doesn’t blink.
He just steps close enough that only I can hear him and says, slow and certain:
“Don’t answer that.”
I don’t.
I hit decline.
My hand shakes, just barely, but enough that Bryce notices.
I force a breath. “I’m fine.”
He gives me a look that says he absolutely does not believe me.
I want to walk away, pretend everything is normal, pretend that bouquet and that call and that history doesn’t rattle something old and bruised inside me.
So I straighten my shoulders and say, “I have a meeting. I need to go.”
Bryce doesn’t stop me.
He just watches.
