Her gaze travels down my body—slow, deliberate.
“Well,” she murmurs, voice like a purr, “looks like you’ve been busy. I always did love the way you looked after a day in the shop.”
I fold my arms across my chest, not saying a word.
She steps closer, her heels clicking softly on the wood floor. “It’s almost unfair, you know. Looking like that.” Her fingers brush the waistband of my jeans, right where a line of sawdust still lingers. “You smell like old times.”
I don’t move. Not yet.
“You know,” she continues, her voice low, “you used to come home just like this. Covered in sawdust. Hands rough, but never too tired to…” She lets the sentence hang as her hand lifts to trace along my chest, just above my heart. “You were always mine back then.”
Her hand slides downward, but I catch her wrist before it can land.
“Don’t,” I say flatly. “The only thing between us now is Hannah.”
She blinks, startled by the steel in my voice.
I drop her hand gently and take a step back, keeping my tone even. “I let you in today for Hannah’s sake. That’s it.”
Her mouth opens like she’s going to argue, but she stops herself. For a moment, she just looks at me—really looks—and maybe she finally understands that whatever door she thought might still be open has long since closed.
She brushes past me like she owns the place, her perfume trailing behind her, sweet and familiar. She sinks onto the couch like a queen reclaiming her throne, leans back, and crosses one long leg over the other. It’s a practiced move. One she’s used a hundred times before to get what she wanted.
It used to work. God, did it work.
“I forgot how good this couch feels,” she says, running her fingers along the armrest. “Do you remember whathappened on this couch the day it was delivered? Mmm. The memories we made right here.”
I don’t answer. I’m too busy watching the way she drapes herself there, like nothing's changed.
“I do," she murmurs, tilting her head. "That look in your eyes. You used to look at me like you couldn’t get enough.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice low. “I also used to think fast food was fine dining. We all grow out of things.”
Her smile twitches, just slightly. “So this is how it’s going to be now? You pretending like you're no longer attracted to me? Like we don't have fire between us?”
I cross my arms and lean against the wall, sawdust still clinging to my skin. “We had something.Hadbeing the operative word. But it burned out fast. And all that smoke? It just hid what I didn’t want to see.”
“Oh?” she says, still calm, still cool. “And what was that?”
“How shallow it was. How shallow I was. You were beautiful, Meghan—still are. But that was all I saw. All I let myself care about. And that was my mistake.”
She narrows her eyes. “So now you’re above me?”
“No,” I say simply. “Now I see you clearly.”
For a beat, the only sound in the room is the hum of the fridge. Meghan uncrosses her legs, shifts forward.
“You really think she’s better for you?” she asks. “Elle?” Her voice drips with disdain when she says her name. “She doesn’t even know the version of you I knew. The real you.”
“You’re right,” I say. “She doesn’t. Because that version of me? The one who thought lust was love? The one who mistook being wanted for being respected? He’s gone.”
“Be very careful, Jackson,” she says, her tone like ice cracking under pressure. “That little girl in there is my daughter. Don’t forget—the only reason you have her is because I gave you custody. But I can take her back in the blink of an eye.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask, my voice calm, almost casual.
“I’m simply pointing out the reality of your situation,” she says, standing now, slow and deliberate. “If you insist on seeing that woman, Iwilltake Hannah from you.”
I pause for half a second, then turn toward the stairs. “Hannah! Come here, sweetheart!”
