I hold her stare. Luce is attractive, but more than that, she's smart. Always attentive. Loyal.
She clears her throat. “What you're doing is putting her in direct line of danger and if you're not careful,” she pauses, her face softening. “You'll lose her forever.”
Then she's gone and it's just me and Atlas.
Atlas kicks my shin, leaning forward on his forearms. “And how the fuck is this helpful?”
My jaw clenches. Okay fuck. So maybe I went off the rails a bit there, but I didn't kiss her. I didn't fucking answer shit. I just left my fiancée behind because she annoys the shit out of me.
I crack my neck. “Camille. I don't know how long I can do this fucking shit with her.”
Atlas searches my face. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I just said,” I snap, annoyed with him for the hundredth time since being here.
“You know why she has to remain,” Atlas says, voice harder. “You know why you can't let that shit happen again.”
I drag my hand over my cheek, fatigue setting in. “I know, but I just don't care as much as I should.”
Atlas doesn't say another word as we exit the car. He knows when to push and when to back the fuck off, and right now, I'm done talking.
My boots crunch against gravel as I veer away from the main house, heading straight for the pool house. The structure glows warm against the darkening sky, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the heated pool's steam rising into frigid air. It's my sanctuary here—two bedrooms, a lounge, and enough distance from everyone else that I can breathe.
I shove through the door, already peeling off my jacket.
And freeze.
Ivy sits on my bed, knees drawn to her chest, still wearing that ridiculous fur-lined coat. Her face is buried in her arms, shoulders curved inward like she's trying to make herself disappear.
The door clicks shut behind me.
She lifts her head, and fuck—her eyes are red-rimmed. Not crying, not exactly, but close enough that something violent twists in my chest.
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out harsher than I mean.
“I don't know.” She laughs, but it's brittle. Broken. “I don't know what I'm doing anywhere.”
I toss my jacket over the back of the couch, moving closer. The room feels too small suddenly, too warm. “Ivy—”
“Don't.” She holds up a hand. “Don't do that thing where you try to fix it. You can't fix this.”
I stop at the foot of the bed, jaw working. “Then tell me what this is.”
“This?” She gestures between us, the movement jerky. “This is a disaster waiting to happen. This is me being stupid enough to think—” She breaks off, shaking her head. “We can't do this, Asher.”
There it is. The words I knew were coming but still hit like a fist to the gut.
“Bullshit.”
“It's not bullshit!” She scrambles off the bed, putting distance between us. Her coat falls open, revealing the black thermal underneath that clings to every curve. “You don't get it. You don't understand what you're asking me to risk.”
I close the distance she created, because I'm done with space between us. Done with her running. “Then explain it to me.”
“I can't!” Her voice cracks. “That's the point. I can't tell you, and you can't fix it, and we can't—” She presses her palms to her eyes. “God, why did you have to do that today?”
My hands itch to touch her, to pull her against me and make her forget every reason she's listing. “Because I'm tired of pretending I don't want you.”
“Want.” She drops her hands, and the look she gives me makes me shiver. “That's all this is to you? Want?”
