“Make it a joke when I’m trying to talk to you.”
I set the egg down. My fingertips were wet and sticky. The overhead light was too bright. The dishwasher was humming too loud. My phone buzzed on the counter and every part of me wanted to look at it even though I knew that would make this worse.
I didn’t look.
“I’m listening.”
“Are you?” Her voice stayed quiet, which somehow made it harder. “Because lately it feels like I get whatever’s left afterhockey, and your family, and Roman, and whatever fight you’re having with Reid this week.”
My stomach gave one sharp twist.
“I’m not having a fight with Reid.”
Vanessa watched me for a beat too long. “Okay.”
“It’s work.”
“I said okay.”
“No, you said it like you didn’t believe me.”
“Maybe I don’t.” She exhaled and rubbed at her forehead. “I don’t know. You come home wired and distracted, or pissed off, or quiet in that way where if I ask one question you act like I’m interrogating you. I’m not trying to be your enemy, Jace.”
“I never said you were.”
“But you treat me like I’m in the way.”
That shut me up.
The worst part was that I wanted to argue. My body wanted it. My brain had already loaded ten defenses, ten corrections, ten examples of how that wasn’t fair. But underneath all of it was a colder, uglier knowledge.
Sometimes she was in the way.
Not because she had done anything wrong.
Because I was trying to keep pieces of myself separate, and she kept standing where the seams were.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and it sounded thin even to me.
Vanessa looked tired suddenly. “I don’t want another apology you forget by tomorrow.”
“I don’t forget.”
Her expression said I absolutely did.
Fair.
I pressed my palms against the counter and made myself stay still. “I’ll try to be better tonight.”
“Dinner?”
I hesitated.
There it was. The little pause. The one that said everything before I did.
Her face closed by degrees.
“I have to see what time video ends,” I said.
