He exhales hard, shaking his head, eyes dropping again. “At the time, it wasn’t that clear. I thought you were guilty. I thought—”
“I loved you,” I interrupt, my voice shaking now. “You were my world. I would’ve done anything for you and your club.Anything.And you honestly thought I’d betray you like that?” I swallow hard. “I wanted your baby. We were actively trying.”
He shrugs miserably. “Jealousy does crazy things to your mind.” Then he looks up. “Loved?” he murmurs. “You said loved.”
Something splinters in my chest. “We’re over,” I say, forcing the words out even though they scrape my throat raw.
“But your eyes tell another story,” he says softly, stepping closer. He lifts a hand, brushing his thumb along my jaw, then cups my cheek like we haven’t spent the last few months apart. “I’m not giving up on us.”
I step back, and his hand drops back to his side.
“You already did,” I say quietly.
CHAPTER SIX
KADE
I stand there like a fucking statue as she turns away from me, my chest tight, my lungs refusing to work properly. I’ve stared down guns. I’ve walked into rooms knowing men wanted me dead. None of that compares to watching the woman I love walk away because of me.Again.
I scrub a hand over my face and blow out a shaky breath. My fingers come away damp. I don’t remember crying, but apparently my body doesn’t give a shit what my pride thinks anymore.
She keeps her head lowered, her hands on her hips, like she’s trying to regain some composure.
“Eden,” I say, her name rough in my throat, “I didn’t give up. I fucked up. There’s a difference.”
“It didn’t feel like that to me.”
I lean my hands on the counter, fixing her with a stare even though she still hasn’t looked back up. The room smells likecoffee and toast and something painfully domestic. Something I used to have without even realising how rare it was.Fuck, I miss it.
“I thought if I carried it,” I say quietly, “if I held all the shit myself, you’d be safe. That’s how it’s always worked for me. You don’t involve the people you love.”
She lets out a short, humourless laugh. “You didn’t have to tell me everything, Kade. But you pretended you were running things clean, so I relaxed. All the women did. Yet all along, you were deeper than your dad ever took things.”
I close my eyes. She’s right.Again.
“I wake up every day knowing I failed you,” I admit. “Knowing I wasn’t there when you needed me. Knowing I touched you when I shouldn’t have. Jesus Christ, Eden, that thought . . .” My voice breaks despite my best effort to keep it steady. “That one’s gonna haunt me for the rest of my fucking life.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy and unforgiving.
When I open my eyes, she’s finally looking at me. Her face is drawn, tired, but there’s something else there too. Deep hurt.Maybe she’ll never forgive me.
“I didn’t need you to fix what happened,” she says softly. “I needed you toseeme. To acknowledge what happened and to accept it. To help me navigate through it so I wasn’t so alone.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I know that now.”
The words sit between us like a gravestone.
I straighten slowly, forcing myself to breathe, to stand like the man she used to believe in. “I’m not asking you to forgive me,” I say. “And I’m not asking you to come back. I don’t get to ask for either of those things.” Her jaw tightens. “But I’m not walking away again,” I continue. “Not from you. Not from our kid. Even if all I ever get is to stand on the outside looking in.”
Her hand moves instinctively to her stomach, protective. My chest aches at the sight because it’s proof she doesn’t trust me to protect our child, to let me near.
“I’ll give you space,” I add. “I’ll do this on your terms, whatever you need. I just . . .” I shake my head, searching for the words. “I just need you to know I’m here and that I’m not disappearing again.”
She studies me for a long moment. “I don’t trust you,” she says finally. “But,” she adds, barely audible, “I don’t hate you either.”
It’s a sliver of hope, and I cling to it.
I nod once. “I’ll take that.”
