Chapter 15 Stassi
STASSI
Istumble out of bed, almost tripping on the comforter, as Theo advances into the room like a gathering storm.
His shoulders tense. Jaw muscles flexing. Eyes dark with a fury I haven't seen since someone insulted Calli at a wedding we attended in Chicago about a year after we started dating. Back then, he'd broken the guy's nose without hesitation, and Ares and Dimitri had to pull him into another room.
Now, that fury is aimed at me.
"I—what? Why? What happened to three days?" I manage, my voice thin and shaky compared to the thunderous energy radiating from him.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he starts pacing—five steps one way, five steps back—like a caged animal. I can see the effort it takes for him not to explode.
I'm not afraid—not exactly. But something about him right now feels fractured. Like the wrong word will break us both.
"Theo," I try again. "What's going on?"
"Don't say my name like that," he snaps. "Like we're okay."
Does he know?
Shit, how? How could he?
"I've only been here a few days. Not even a full week. You act like I've had years to tell you everything."
"Don't turn this around on me."
"I'm not." I step forward now, just one small step. "But you're coming in here demanding the truth when you haven't asked for it, not really. You storm in, make threats, and expect me to just open my chest and let you carve out whatever answer you want."
He stops and turns to me, his blue eyes so cold they burn.
"Who were you talking to on the phone last night?" Not even acknowledging what I said.
My eyes go wide, my heart stops. Blood freezes in my veins.
He heard me.
"What?" I say and clear my throat. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't." He takes a step closer, and I can't help but flinch. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I heard you."
I try to keep my face neutral, but inside, my thoughts are screaming. He heard me on the phone. He heard me saying I'd be home soon. Telling someone I loved them.
And now, he's jumped to the wrong conclusion.
"'I miss you… I'll be home soon… I love you,'" he repeats in a low mockery of my voice.
The silence between us stretches dangerously. I'm so flustered and caught off guard, playing dumb was my only defense, and now I can't even do that. What I've been working on since leaving Los Angeles. How to tell him. It's all for nothing.
"And the best part?" He laughs, a hollow, broken sound. "You said I don't suspect anything yet."
Oh God.
I close my eyes briefly. I need to be careful here. So careful.
"Look, I—"
"Are you going to deny it?" he demands, stepping closer and towering over me.
"No," I sigh. "I was on the phone. You heard what you heard."
After countless hours of practicing, deciding how to say it, I'm just so tired now.
"Who is it? Huh?" His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching. "Who were you talking to?"
I wrap my arms around myself. "Theo," I say, my voice softer now. "Please,” I pause and then look up at him, "I don't want to hurt you all over again."
The silence that follows is deafening. He just stares at me, processing, his breathing carrying a ragged edge to it.
"You lost me the day you left," he says finally. "And I'm done playing games. Done waiting."
He steps closer, leaving almost no room between us.
"You walk around this house like a fucking ghost. You won't speak unless I press you. You won't let me in—so don't act shocked you can't hide out until you're the one ready to talk."
He's right. Of course he's right.
"And now I overhear you on the phone. With..." he scoffs and shakes his head, "Was any of it real, Stassi? Or was I just convenient protection until you could run back to whoever the fuck is waiting for you?"
I can feel something crack inside me—the wall I've carefully maintained for four years, the one I reinforced every time I wanted to call him, every time I missed him so badly I couldn't breathe.
"Theo," I try, but my voice breaks.
"Were you even in trouble? Or was that just a way to manipulate me into letting you stay?"
And suddenly, I see it all so clearly. Every moment I stayed silent. Every time I deflected his questions. Every opportunity I had to tell him the truth but chose fear instead.
I did this.
My refusal to say the words made space for his worst fears to grow.
"You're right," I say, and the first tear slides down my cheek. "I've been avoiding the truth. I've been—" I swallow hard, the tears come faster now, "I didn't leave because I stopped loving you."
Something flickers in his eyes—confusion, maybe hope—quickly buried under suspicion.
"Then why?" His voice is lower now.
"I left because I knew if I stayed, I'd destroy you, and maybe I'd die. Or he would."
Theo goes still. Completely still. Like even his blood has stopped flowing.
"'He?'" The word comes out strangled. "Who are you talking about?" he yells.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. How do I say this? How do I tell him that I deprived him of so much?
He looks down at me, staring, waiting, gears turning, trying to put the pieces of what I say together.
"Who the fuck is he, Stassi?"
My body trembles.
This is it.
No going back.
"I—" My throat closes. I can hardly breathe. "I found out in Chicago before we left and came back here together for the last time. I was going to tell you. I swear."
"Who. Is. He." Each word feels like the twisting of a knife in my heart.
I force myself to meet his eyes. Those damn beautiful blue eyes I see every day in a smaller, softer face. I force my mouth to form the words I've rehearsed a thousand times, never believing I'd actually say them to him.
"Your son," I say more confidently than I ever thought I would.
Time stops.
The words hang between us. For several heartbeats, Theo doesn't move. Doesn't blink. His face drains of all color.
"My what?" he breathes in a soft tone.
I feel the dam breaking, walls crumbling.
"I didn't know how to tell you, and I thought…" I shake my head. "I thought if I did, you'd feel trapped. I knew how important the family was, how you couldn't just leave."
I wipe tears away from my face.
"And I didn't want to make you choose. Between the life you've built, your family and the people who depend on you, and me. But then, I decided I was going to tell you, and that was when your father called."
I let out a shuddered breath and try to hold back the tears, but it's no use.
Theo stumbles back and grabs onto the dresser.
"That's... that's not possible," he says, his voice laced with devastation.
My heart is breaking just like I knew it would. How could it not? When you tell someone you've kept his child from him for three years? That I deprived him of first steps, first words, first everything?
"My father knew? I don't… I don't understand."
"Yes," I say in between tears, "I went to the doctors to make sure, and it turned out that doctor somehow knew your father.
He called and told me he was fine with you having some fun, but that you were meant for bigger things.
You were part of an alliance deal. He said there were people who would now try and use me—or use our child—against you.
Against your family. And he couldn't allow it. "
"You're fucking lying," Theo says, but even I can tell it's reactive and not said in truth.
I step toward him because I've come this far—I might as well continue.
"No. He told me I had to get rid of it and that I needed to disappear. I was done with you. He'd give me money, a new name, documents, but I was never to be found. And if I got any crazy ideas to keep the baby or let you find me..." I stop and hesitate, and Theo shoots me a glance, "he'd kill me."
I take a few breaths.
"I didn't know what to do. I thought if I told you, I'd hurt you or something would happen to you.
And if I tried to stay, someone would come for me.
And since I wasn't going to give up the baby," tears fall but I don't wipe them this time, "I took your father's money, used some of it to pay a shady doctor to forge medical abortion records, and disappeared.
I changed my name. I kept moving. I learned how to be invisible. "
Theo looks at me, his eyes dim, haunted by the bomb I've just detonated right in front of him. He scans my face like he's looking—or maybe hoping—for lies.
He runs his hand over his face, probably contemplating which of the hundreds of questions he wants to ask first. I slow my breathing and rein in my tears.
"You… you had my son?"
I nod again, eyes burning. "Yes."
"I wasn't going to tell you like this," I say. "But I don't even know if a better way exists."
He turns away suddenly, walking toward the door like he needs space. Like he's about to bolt.
"Theo—"
He lifts a hand to silence me without turning back.
I stay frozen.
"I know what this looks like," I say. "But I never stopped loving you."
He turns back, and for a second, I think I see it. The pain. The longing. The heartbreak we never got to process.
But something darker overtakes him before he gets a word out.
He shakes his head once.
And then, he leaves.
A few minutes later, I hear tires screeching away. I don't even need to look out the window to know it's Theo.
He's gone, leaving me, just like I had left him.