“You okay?” Jake asked.
I blinked at him, too slow. “No.”
His mouth tightened, but really, what else did he think I’d say? I was so far from okay, I wasn’t even sure I could find it on GPS.
From somewhere down the hall, muffled voices carried—along with a sharp spike in their tones. Jake’s head turned, listening.
I could feel it too, even without understanding the words. The house had a way of carrying sound, like it was built to amplify important conversations and drown out the ones you didn’t want overheard.
My mother was probably furious.
Archie… Archie had sounded like ice. The way his face had gone blank, the way he’d positioned himself between me and her?—
I didn’t know what to do with that.
I didn’t know what to do with any of it.
As soon as she abandoned the food to come back to me, I scooped Tabby into my arms again—mostly because I needed something physical to anchor me—and stood.
“I should—” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. “I should go… deal with them.”
Jake was up instantly. “No.”
The single word landed hard.
I stared at him. “What?”
His eyes were bright, intense. Protective in a way that made me feel both safer and trapped at the same time. “You shouldn’t have to deal with them right now,” he said, lower. “Not when you’re like this. Not when they just—” His jaw clenched. “They treated you like you were luggage.”
My chest tightened again, and Tabby let out a small, irritated noise like she agreed.
I swallowed. “They’re my?—”
“They’rethem,” Jake cut in, then checked himself, visibly forcing his voice down. “Sorry. I just—” He exhaled. “Frankie. Please don’t go back in there. Let Archie handle it. Let me handle it. Let Jeremy handle it. Hell, let the cats handle it. Tory’s always looked like she could commit a felony.”
As if summoned, Tory jumped onto the bench again and stared toward the door with murder in her eyes. A laugh slipped out of me—small, shaky, unwilling—and then the laugh turned into a breath that hitched.
Because Jake was right. I didn’t have anything left for confrontation. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I moved over to the bench by the window and sat, letting Tabby rest in my lap as I stroked her then Tory. The light outside was fading, sky going lavender. The neatness of it—trim hedges, perfect lines—felt unreal after the chaos of my apartment.
Jake came to sit on the floor near me, back against the bench, like he was guarding the door without making it obvious.
For his part, Jeremy moved quietly around us, checking bowls, smoothing the blanket, doing small practical things that kept the world from tipping. I half-expected him to leave us, but each time he caught my eye, he gave me the most firm of smiles.
The argument beyond the doors continued, but Jeremy remained here. Ready to intercept them if they came in? Or just…being here for me? The man really was a treasure.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
I pulled it out with reluctance, thumb hovering like the screen might bite me.
Mathieu.
Mathieu:
