His jaw tightens. “What about me?”
My throat works, but no sound comes out. Because what about him? What about the way he looks at me when he thinks I don’t notice? What about the way his presence steadies me, even when I don’t want it to? What about the way my body still remembers every inch of his from six years ago?
I shake my head, breaking whatever spell we’re caught in. “It doesn’t matter.”
But Damon’s eyes say otherwise. It matters. It always has.
“I can find somebody else to take care of my kids,” I add.
Damon shakes his head. “It won’t work. They don’t know Jason like I do. Like Zane does.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll manage just fine,” I say. “I just don’t want to cause more problems than there already is. We still have some insurance money left. I’ll quit my job, and we’ll just move to another state for a while.”
His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “You think leaving will fix this?”
I let out a shaky breath. “I think staying makes it worse.”
His hand brushes the edge of my suitcase, fingers curling against the fabric. “For who?”
I hate that I don’t have an answer. I hate that part of me—the part I’ve buried for years—wants to sayfor me.Because I don’t know how to be in this house with him, with them, and not want something I can’t have.
“Everything’s falling apart,” I mumble.
Damon exhales sharply, his fingers flexing again against my suitcase before he steps back, like he needs distance before he says something he can’t take back.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says.
“How?” I shake my head. “Because right now, it feels like the only thing I’m doing is making things worse.”
“You think you’re the problem?” His voice is incredulous, laced with something that sounds almost like anger. “Mia, the problem is that we?—”
He stops himself, shaking his head.
“We what?” I ask.
His throat works, like he’s fighting something he doesn’t want to say. Then, finally, he looks me dead in the eyes. “We care about you. More than we should.”
Zane and Asher step into the room, identical frowns on their faces.
My fingers grip the handle of my suitcase, knuckles white, but I don’t move. I can’t. Not with three sets of eyes on me, waiting for an answer I don’t have.
“We heard you arguing,” Zane says, frowning. “What’s going on?”
I stay silent, willing my hands to stop shaking.
“Why are you packing up?” Asher’s voice is low, cautious.
“If this is about the girls, Asher can take them out for a while,” Zane offers. “I know they’re going stir-crazy in here.”
His words are meant to be helpful, but they land wrong, twisting inside me. I let out a brittle laugh.
“Asher’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with us.” My voice cracks, humiliatingly raw. I clear my throat, pushing past it. “And you... you said you understood what I wanted.”
Zane flinches like I’ve struck him. “Mia…”
Damon turns to Asher. “She’s upset.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Asher mutters, rubbing a hand down his face.
