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I follow him with my eyes until he’s gone.
Because this is what family looks like.
Messy. Scorched. Holding on with bloody hands when the world tries to tear you apart.
And I’d do it again tomorrow.
No question.
I’d stay for her. For Eli. For Thorin.
But the second it leaves my mouth, Thorin’s head snaps back around like I’ve slapped him.
“No.”
It lands like a gunshot.
I blink. “What?”
“No,” he says again, harder now, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. “You’re not staying. No one is staying.”
“Thorin,” I start carefully, “Reese—”
“I said no.” His voice is hoarse, low and vibrating with something dangerous. “I appreciate the offer, man, I do, but I don’t need babysitters. Or charity.”
“It’s not charity—”
“She’s my wife,” he snarls. “My family. My responsibility. Not yours. Not theirs.” He jerks his chin toward Benji and Carson, who are frozen behind him, watching like they’re afraid to breathe.
Maggie steps forward, calm and firm, hands pressed together like she’s holding the weight of the room in her palms. “Thorin, sweetheart, this isn’t about ego. This is about Reese. And Eli. You’re hanging on by a thread—”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” she says gently. “None of us are. You’re grieving and gutted and trying to keep everything from falling apart with nothing but your bare hands. Let us help.”
He turns on her so fast I push off the counter.
“Don’t,” I warn.
But he doesn’t lash out.
He just looks at her.
And the fury flickers.
What’s left in its place is worse.
A hollow, gutted man barely held together by a hoodie and grief and guilt so deep it’s drowning him alive.
“I have to go,” he whispers. “Because if I stay, I’ll break. And if I break, she’ll never forgive herself for being the reason.”
The room goes still.
Nobody breathes.
Not even the walls.
Then he turns to me again, and this time, it’s not anger. It’s something colder. Final.
