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I laughed in surprise. “Stop worrying about us, Casanova.”

“Do you?” he said, not willing to be put off.

“That’s not the point.”

“It kind of is,” he said, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

I stepped forward and cupped my hands on his shoulders.

“The point is this,” I said firmly. “You do not get to solve your questions about my past by putting your hands on someone.”

“He shoved me first,” he protested.

“And if he does it again, you walk away.” I raised an eyebrow.

“And let him talk about you like that?” he asked, astonished.

“Yes.”

“No.” His eyes flashed.

“Yes, Jace.” I blew out a breath.

He immediately shook his head.

“I’m not going to stand there and let someone say those things about you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” I reasoned.

“Too bad.” The fierceness of his statement startled me.

“Jace,” I said gently. “You don’t become strong by fighting every annoyance that crosses your path that scares you.” His eyes narrowed.

“You think I’m scared?”

“I think you’re angry and scared that there’s something that could separate us, and this is not it. You. Are. Stuck. With. Me,” I said, drawing out the words.

“And you’re not angry?”

“Yes,” I admitted on an exhale. His eyes moved over my face, searching for an answer I wasn’t sure I had.

“At him?” he asked.

“At myself.”

“For what?” His brows met.

“For not telling you sooner. For bringing you back here without explaining what it would stir up for both of us,” I said honestly.

His shoulders lowered slightly. “I don’t care about what they think,” he said.

I flipped an egg in the skillet. “Then why did it matter so much?” I asked, looking over. He hesitated.

“Because he said you left him,” Jace said finally. “Like you ruined Coach.”

My stomach dropped.

“And I didn’t like the way he said it,” Jace pressed. “Like you were something cheap. Like you were someone who leaves people.”