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“No.” I wasn’t going there. This was my problem, and I’d fix it.

“I haven’t asked anything.” He didn't have to. I already knew.

“You were about to.” I narrowed my eyes because he knew I was right.

A slow smile tugged at his mouth. “You still do that.”

“Do what?” I squinted.

“Answer questions before I ask them.”

I groaned, dropping my head back. “Please don’t start psychoanalyzing me.” More memories of him trying to get me to talk about my feelings surfaced.

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, maybe a little.” His lips tugged in a smile again.

I pointed at him. “See?”

His smile widened, and tiny crinkles formed at the corner of his eyes. It disappeared just as suddenly. The shift happened so quickly it caught me off guard. His gaze glanced toward my pocket again, then came back to my eyes, steady and serious. It was the same look he’d always given me whenever something was wrong.

“If you need help—”

“No.” I crossed my arms across my chest to create distance. The answer came so fast I practically tripped over it.

His jaw ticked. I hated that look, but he didn’t look away.

“I didn’t say money.” Something crossed his face that I couldn’t quite name.

Heat climbed my neck. My stupidity had led me here, and that was more humiliating than having a bill that needed to be paid right away.

“I don’t need help.”

“Okay.” He nodded.

“Lane,” I warned.

“Okay.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Why do I feel like you’re arguing with me?” I asked with a huff.

“I’m not.” He closed the folder on the table and leaned closer.

“You are.”

“I’m literally agreeing with you.” The man was impossible. We both knew he was only agreeing for now. I glared as he just stared back, completely calm, unbothered, and infuriatingly attractive. My traitorous brain supplied one unhelpful observation. He was still ridiculously attractive. My pocket vibrated again. This time I grabbed it before I could stop myself. An email preview expanded.

Failure to remit payment may result in further collection action . . .

My heart hammered against my ribs. Brett’s face flashed through my mind—the promises, the apologies, the pills, the emptied accounts. Years spent cleaning up disasters that had never been mine. He thought he’d used me. Maybe he had. But I got Jace. I’d never regret that.

I closed my eyes briefly for just one second, but it was one second too long. Because when I opened them, Lane was watching me with an expression I hadn’t seen since high school. Not pity but something worse, something softer that looked a lot like care.

“Cali.” I hated how gently he said my name, like it still mattered. Like I still mattered. The feeling pressed somewhere behind my ribs, far too close to my heart.