I hold his gaze a moment longer, then let it go. Whatever this is, I’ll figure it out later.
Within minutes, we fall into an easy rhythm. The tension melts as we chop, season, and cook. Drew’s got a good sense of humor and even better timing. His stories from the construction site have me in stitches—half the stuff those guys get up to is insane.
By the time we sit down, we’ve got plates of fish tacos and a couple of beers cracked open. It’s comfortable. Easy. Almost normal again.
Until the doorbell rings.
He freezes mid-bite. The look that crosses his face isn’t subtle, it’s pure dread. What is going on?
“You want me to get it?” I wipe my hands and turn off the faucet.
“Nah.” He drops the dish towel and moves quickly, too quickly. “I’ll get it.”
I frown but let him go. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe?—
“Get the fuck out.”
The voice—angry, raw—cuts through the air like a gunshot.
Without hesitation, I’m moving before thought, rounding the corner and barreling toward the front door. My heart slams against my ribs.
I skid to a stop.
Drew’s standing in the doorway, squared off against a man I’ve only met once. Pete. Olivia’s ex-husband. They’re practically mirror images, same height, same defiant posture, both furious.
“Hey.” I carefully step in before this goes sideways.
It takes Pete a second to process what he’s seeing, who I am, and when it clicks, he stiffens, shoulders locking, fists flexing, jaw tightening until it looks painful.
His eyes, sharp, blue, and furious, slice right through me like daggers as he pushes past Drew and storms into the house. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Before I can answer, Drew sneers, voice bitter and hard. “He’s welcome. I want him here.”
That catches Pete off guard. He frowns, clearly not expecting to be challenged. Whatever’s happening between them, it runs deep.
“Leave,” Drew orders, jaw clenched.
“Hey—” Hand up, I try to defuse the situation and step closer, close enough that if either of them moves, I can intervene. “Pete.” I nod at him, keeping my tone even, controlled. “Drew. Everything okay?”
“It’ll be fine onceheleaves.” Drew stabs a finger toward the door, voice tight but trembling underneath.
“Drew, I came here to talk.” Pete’s tone is softer now, almost pleading.
And that’s the thing—underneath the anger, the man actually sounds sincere. His voice is rough, strained, but not false.
Although, Drew doesn’t buy it. His fists curl at his sides, knuckles white, shoulders tight. He’s holding himself together by a thread. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“Pete, you should go.” I inch forward, keeping my body angled between them. I’m trying to sound calm, unthreatening, but my pulse is hammering.
Olivia mentioned there was tension between them, but this…this is darker. A secret? A betrayal? Whatever this is, it’s not small.
Pete’s stance widens, his chin lifting. He plants his hands on his hips, the motion deliberate, territorial.
“Who the hell are you to tell me to leave? This is my family. My wife. My son.” His words hit like a challenge, and every muscle within me turns rigid.
Before I can respond, Drew explodes. “She’snotyour wife anymore.” His voice cracks with rage. “You should know that, especially considering you had no problem forgetting what being married meant.”
The room quiets. Dead still. Pete flinches.
