“You’re going to handle it without me,” I whisper.
He doesn’t deny it.
That’s the answer.
My throat tightens until I can barely speak. “You got what you wanted.”
His head snaps up. “Don’t.”
“Don’t say it?” I spit, anger finally giving me something to stand on. “Don’t make it ugly? Because it already is. You pulled me into your mess with warnings and looks and showing up everywhere like you couldn’t help yourself, and the second it gets real you turn into a ghost.”
His nostrils flare. He steps closer again, and for one wild second I think he’s going to grab me, kiss me, tell me he’s sorry, tell me I’m wrong.
He doesn’t.
“I didn’t pull you into shit,” he says, voice rough. “Hell did. Pearly Gates did. Bethany did. And I tried to keep you from getting eaten.”
I shake my head, tears burning hot now. “Then you fucked me. I let you. You acted like it meant something. You threw your wedding ring.”
“Exactly, Brit,” he says. “Listen to how guilty that makes us sound. That’s exactly why we can’t do this.”
“Why does it feel like I’m the one paying for it?”
Oaks’s eyes drop to my mouth. His hands flex at his sides. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter.
“Because you’re the soft target,” he says. “And I’m the one everyone already expects to be a monster. I’m the one they want.”
The words hit deep, because there’s truth in them I don’t want to carry.
I take a step back. “Go,” I whisper.
His gaze snaps up. “Brittany…”
“Go,” I repeat, louder this time, and my voice shakes but it holds. “If you’re going to back off, then back off. Don’t stand in this kitchen and look at me like you’re saving me while you’re leaving.”
Something hard crosses his face. He nods once, like a man accepting a sentence.
“Lottie will keep you close,” he says. “If anything feels off, you call her. Not Elijah. Not your daddy. Not anybody else. You call her.”
He pauses at the door.
Then, without looking back, he says, “And don’t tell anyone you fucked me.”
The words turn my blood cold.
Then he’s gone.
The door shuts, and the house feels empty in a way it didn’t five minutes ago. I stand there in the middle of Lottie’s kitchen, shaking, and I realize something that makes my stomach roll.
Bethany disappearing didn’t free me. It tied me to Oaks tighter than any rumor ever could.
Because now everyone needs an ending. And Hell, Kentucky doesn’t like mysteries. It likes blame.
I press my palm to my chest like I can hold my heart in place, and I make myself a promise through the ache and the anger and the humiliating fact that I still want him even after he walked out.
If Oaks is going to choose the club, then I’ll choose me.
Even if it breaks me.
