Her arms fold over her stomach like a safeguard, as if I’m the blow she’s bracing for.
I’m not that guy—I’m not.
But maybe I’m not far off.
She opens her mouth, closes it. I watch her throat work through the silence, her eyes glassy.
“I didn’t mean to ignore you,” she finally says. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
That should cool me.
It doesn’t.
I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek, shaking my head.
“I was helping Chase through something. It wasn’t—”
“Chase.” I spit his name like a mouthful of blood. “Of course it was fucking Chase.”
Fuck him.
Fuck her.
Fuck this.
I canfeelthe way he looks at her. Like she’s a lifeline. And I can feel the way she softens when he’s around, like he’s someone worth saving.
But I’m the one who needs saving.
Me.
“Do you even see me?” she whispers brokenly.
I open my mouth, ready to snap back.
Nothing comes out.
Because I don’t.
Because I do.
Because I can’t tell the fucking difference anymore.
My shoulders sag, the weight of it all cracking through the surface. “You shut me out. You used to tell me everything.”
She blinks, and the edge in her gaze softens, just a notch. “You used to listen.”
A bitter laugh punches from my chest. “So this is on me?”
“It’s on both of us. You and me. But you don’t get to demand anything when you only show up with suspicion and control.”
For a moment, I just stare at her. She’s flushed, shaking, wearing pain like armor, and somehow she still looks like everything I want and everything I hate about myself.
My jaw ticks. I reach out to touch her cheek, but she flinches back. That tiny recoil cuts deeper than any of her words.
“Fuck, baby. I just…” I swallow hard, the anger starting to rot into something more sinister. Something uglier. “I don’t know how to be okay without you.”
It slips out before I can stop it. A confession dressed as an accusation.
