Page 128 of The Ache That Stayed

“Who is it?”

“No one.”

Lie.

I caught her chin, forcing her eyes to mine.

“Try again.”

Her jaw clenched.

“Someone I used to know.” She let out a breath. “Family.”

The word came out hollow.

I tilted my head slightly, watching her. “Are they bothering you?”

Her expression shut down instantly. “That’s none of your concern.”

My mouth curved. Slow. Dangerous.

“Everything about you is my concern.”

Her eyes flashed. “You’ve caused enough damage already.”

So now I’m to blame. Interesting.

She pushed past me, brushing my shoulder like she could shake me off. Like I’d let her. I didn’t follow. Because whatever had just rattled her, I already knew where to start.

My jaw tightened. My first instinct was to hunt him down. Know how far he’d pushed. How close he’d gotten. And when I found out what he’d done… I wouldn’t ask. I’d tear him to shreds.

I watched her walk away—fast, controlled, already rebuilding whatever walls she’d let slip with me. Completely ignoring the fact that my fingers weren’t buried inside her minutes ago. Like I couldn’t still taste her on my tongue.

A muscle ticked in my jaw. She really thought distance would fix this. That if she put enough space between us, it would disappear. That I would.

A quiet, humourless breath left me. Not happening. Because this—whatever the hell this was—it wasn’t something you walked away from. It had already settled skin deep. In my blood. In my bones.

I dragged a hand down my face, eyes still fixed on the doorway she’d disappeared through.

I’d never felt like this before. Ever.

Want? Sure.

Obsession? More times than I cared to count.

But this was different. This wasn’t just about having her. I wasn’t trying to get her out of my system anymore. I was trying to make sure nothing else touched her. It was about needing to know what the fuck he’d done to make her look like that—like the ground had just shifted under her feet.

My tongue pressed against the inside of my cheek.

“Fuck.”

I never believed in love. Didn’t trust it. Didn’t need it.

Love made men predictable and reckless. Weak. Easy to break. I’d seen what it did to Marcello. Watched him burn for it. So I stayed away. From promises. From forever. From anything that looked remotely like love.

Then she happened, without permission. Her happiness had started mattering more than my own.

She’d become the first thing I thought about in the morning. The last thing I checked before sleeping. The reason I stayed. The reason I left. The reason I came back. And somewhere between walking away from her… and finding my way back, she’d become home.