“You think you don’t deserve good things,” he continues, voice low.“Your parents made that clear when they cheered for your brothers and treated your needs like an inconvenience.”His eyes hold mine, steady but not cold.“I’ve told you more than once that you need fucking therapy.”
I let out a pathetic sound that might be a laugh.“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he says easily.“Right now, you believe you’re not worthy of love, or a home, or ...”He pauses, and it feels like he’s choosing how to say this without breaking me.“I’d bet you don’t even think you deserve a family.”
My breath catches, small and humiliating.
Cally’s voice softens even more.“But you do.You deserve that and more.”
And that’s it.
That’s the line that gets me.Because it’s true in a way I don’t know how to live with.Because Cally says it like he’s been carrying my hurt in his pocket for years and waiting for the moment I finally stop pretending it isn’t there.
Cue all the tears.My eyes fill and I hate myself for it.I hate that I’m crying.
Cally steps closer.“You’re my best friend, Ves,” he says, voice gentle.“And that means I’m always in your corner.”
Monty’s gaze doesn’t leave my face.His voice drops lower, rougher.“Especially when you don’t want anyone there.”
Something inside me gives.
It’s not pretty.It’s not graceful.It’s just ...a crack, opening wider, letting everything I’ve been holding back rush out.
I wipe at my face, furious at my own tears.“Ugh.Why do you have to be so ...”I gesture vaguely at both of them.“Like this?I can’t with you two.”
Cally’s grin returns, softer now, like he’s trying to give me something to hold onto.“This is perfect.We’re still looking for a house, but for now you’re safe in this apartment.”
“Safe?”I frown, because my brain finally catches up to the other alarming part.“Right.You need to tell me why I have a bodyguard—and why someone was tailing me.”
Monty’s eyes cut to Cally, a glare that says,your turn.
And Cally—my sweet, ridiculous, golden retriever Cally—sighs like he’s about to confess to stealing cookies, not to a family power play.
He tells me.
The way his parents want to yank him back into their control by ruining what he built without them.By the time he’s done, my hands are curled into fists at my sides.
I hate them.I hate the way they neglected him.I hate the way they’re trying to punish him for choosing his own life.
And I hate—most of all—that their reach has extended to me.
Because I can handle people hurting me.
But Cally?
Cally is joy wrapped in stubborn loyalty, and if his family thinks they can use me as leverage ...he will destroy them.
I lift my chin, swallowing hard.“Okay,” I whisper, voice shaking but firm.“So that’s what this is.”
Cally studies me.Monty moves closer, like he expects me to bolt again.
I don’t.
I look at both of them—these two men who have ruined me in the most beautiful ways—and I realize something that scares me more than pregnancy, more than being watched, more than moving into an apartment that smells like Monty’s cologne and Cally’s laughter.
If they’re offering me a home ...in spite of their rivalry and whatever it is that they have going between them.
They’re not just offering a roof, but a place to belong.
