His brows lift.
“You don’t think so?”
I step closer.
Chest still rising. Sweat dripping. Pulse high.
“I didn’t ask for that scene,” I snap. “I didn’t ask for her to come in, flip everything, and blow it up.”
Kane tilts his head.
“She didn’t blow it up,” he says. “She finally said something.”
My jaw tics.
“She had time to say something,” I fire back. “Months. She chose not to.”
“And you chose to move on.”
“Yeah.”
“With someone in front of her.”
That lands harder than it should.
I exhale sharply. “She walked away, Kane.”
He doesn’t flinch. “She asked for time.”
I laugh.
Short. Sharp.
“That’s not how I saw it.”
“No,” he agrees. “It’s not.”
Silence stretches between us.
Heavy.
Then he steps closer.
Lowering his voice.
“She’s not like the others.”
I scoff.
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t,” he shoots back. “Because if you did, you’d know how hard that was for her.”
I don’t respond.
Because I saw it.
I felt it.
