Chapter 9
Anna
‘What the hell am I doing?’ I whisper to my reflection as I take in Landon’s black T-shirt hanging on me.
It’s long enough to brush my knees and decent enough to skip the shorts that keep slipping down.
But it’s not just seeing myself in his clothes that has my hands trembling.
It’s his scent that keeps curling into my lungs, burning through my veins, and dragging me back to a place I swore I’d never return to.
I bite down on my lip and keep staring into the mirror, my fingers locking tight around the sink’s edge.
This is a bad idea. Every nerve in me knows that this reckless step won’t bring closure or heal even a single wound.
It’ll only make everything murkier, the kind that is impossible to see through.
No, I can’t just throw myself into bed with the man who shattered my world to pieces.
I drag in a shaky breath, fighting through the fog clouding my head and making every bit of my resolve weak. Focus, Anna. Focus. I need to keep my guard up. I need to remember why I’m here… why I agreed to step into his house in the first place.
To get answers.
To finally know why he walked away without so much as a word. That’s it.
Get the truth, claim my peace, and get the hell out before he burns me down all over again.
Picking up the hairbrush, I drag it through my hair and force my legs to move. But as I head for the door, every part of me begs to stay put, to stay locked in the room rather than risk doing something I’ll regret in daylight.
Still, I swallow the anxiety clawing up my throat and tighten my grip on the doorknob before twisting it open and stepping into the hall.
The moment I step into the hallway, a sound from the kitchen slams into me, making me aware he’s there. I stop dead, my pulse hammering, my breath razor-thin.
‘Keep it together, Anna. You’ve got this,’ I tell myself as I head toward the kitchen, but my stride falters the moment my gaze snags on Landon.
He’s standing at the microwave, his back to me, but he’s shirtless.
He’s only wearing his track pants, slung low on his hips, and suddenly my brain short-circuits.
My hormones spark like static at the sight of his sexy body.
I gulp, rooted to the spot like a fool, unable to tear my eyes away.
The warm lamplight glazes over his skin, catching every shift of muscle as he pulls a container from the oven.
It’s honestly unfair, the way he does this to me, stealing every coherent thought I have. God, I can’t do this.
“What happened? Why are you standing there like a statue?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder with that unmistakable grin.
That fucking dangerous grin of his. The one that used to be the prelude to every bad decision I ever made with him. And before I can stop myself, the words tumble out of my mouth.
“There is no sex.”
His brow arches, as if I’ve just said something wildly entertaining.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to jump into bed with me, nor was I planning on seducing you into changing your mind,” he clarifies, turning to set the container on the counter.
“It’d be more convincing if you had clothes on,” I shoot back, folding my arms across my chest, my voice carrying the kind of determination that swears I won’t fall again.
But my gaze clearly didn’t get that memo.
It betrays me and invariably drifts downward before I even realize it.
Damn it. I’ve already seen him shirtless, even naked, so why the hell are my hormones acting like this is the first time?
“If you’re not comfortable, I can put on my shirt.”
I shake my head. “No… yes… God, I’m being ridiculous. We’ve seen each other naked. It’s not—” I bite back the rest of the words before I humiliate myself further. My throat works as I force the next words out. “Please, just… put something on. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
His lips twitch, like he’s holding back a comment, but he only nods. He walks to the stool by the small dining table in the center of the kitchen, snatches up his shirt, and pulls it over his head.
“Okay now?” he asks as if this is some kind of a negotiation.
I nod, and only then do my lungs remember how to work.
The next few minutes slip by in loaded silence. We move around each other carefully, setting food on the table, passing plates, and trading occasional glances that burn hotter than they should. But neither of us says a word.
When everything is finally in place, he drops into the chair across from me. I force my gaze down to the plate in front of me. The food looks and smells incredible, but my stomach is knotted too tightly to even think about eating.
“Time to address the elephant in the room?” His voice cuts through the quiet, pulling my gaze to his.
My throat tightens, but I force the words out. “Go on.”
He nods, almost bracing himself. “I’ve had this conversation stuck in my head for years,” he says slowly, each word deliberate. “And I know you want to know why I filed for divorce.”
“Yes, Landon,” I shoot back, lacing my fingers in my lap to keep them from trembling.
“I want to know why you destroyed us. One day we were fighting, which was normal for us. We fought, we made up, and we moved on. And then suddenly there were divorce papers. That’s all I got.
No discussion. No warning. Nothing. Just end of a relationship. ”
He pulls in a harsh breath, his shoulders turning rigid. “At that time, I thought it was for the best.”
The words slices through me, and I flinch. “For the best? For who? You? That sure as hell explains it, because from where I stood, you looked pretty damn relieved.”
“I wasn’t relieved.” His jaw tightens as he exhales. “You make it sound like I woke up one morning and decided to kill us for fun. Walking away from you was anything but easy. Signing those papers fucking ripped me apart.”
“If that was the fucking case, then why the hell did you think walking away was ‘for the best’ without even discussing it with me?” I drag in a sharp breath, rage burning through my chest. “Do you have any idea how many days I’ve spent blaming myself, wondering what I did to make you stop wanting me? ”
His jaw flexes, and his eyes lock on mine with a heat that pins me in place. “You think I stopped wanting you?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t,” he snaps, slamming his palms against the table. “But everything else… the house, the routine, the endless cycle of normal… it was suffocating me. I didn’t stop loving you, Anna. I just couldn’t breathe in that life.”
I stare at him, the words twisting into something sharp and cruel inside me.
“So let me get this straight,” I fire back, heat rushing to my cheeks.
“You wanted me, but not the life that came with me. You wanted the passion, the sex, the intimacy… but God forbid not the responsibility. Newsflash, Landon, marriage isn’t a fucking highlight reel.
It’s everything. The good, the bad, the boring.
And you walked out because you were too much of a coward to admit you couldn’t handle the real part of loving me. ”
He falls silent for a moment, watching me as if he’s trying to read the rhythm of my pulse.
“You’re right. I was a coward,” he finally says, and for once, there’s no defense in his voice, just quiet acceptance.
“But I never stopped wanting you, Anna. Not even for a second.” He trails off, shaking his head.
“But back then, I was losing myself, and I didn’t know how to fix it without dragging you down with me.
So yeah, I ran. I handled it like shit. But don’t you ever doubt that I loved you, because that was never the problem.
Loving you was the only thing I ever knew how to do right. ”
“Love?” I laugh bitterly. “Don’t you dare throw that word at me like it excuses everything.
If you loved me, you would’ve stayed. You would’ve fought.
You don’t walk away from someone you claim is your everything, Landon,” I point out.
“You fight tooth and nail until there’s nothing left.
But you didn’t. You left me. So don’t sit there and tell me you love me, because clearly, you don’t. This is just your guilt talking.”
“Anna…” His voice cracks, the fight bleeding out into something heavier.
“You think I don’t know I fucked up? You think I don’t replay that day a thousand times in my head, wishing I’d stayed, wishing I’d fought harder?
I left, yes. I broke us. That’s on me. But don’t you dare tell me I don’t love you.
Because that’s the only thing I never stopped doing.
Even when I was gone, it was you. Always you.
” He blows out a breath and looks away as if the answer might be hiding in the cabinets.
When his gaze returns to mine, it’s raw, vulnerable.
“It’s just… I didn’t know how to be the man you deserved. And I was too damn proud to admit it.”
My heart trips in my chest. I should leave the table. I should shut this down. But instead, I stay rooted in my seat, staring at the man who broke me and somehow still makes me feel like I could break all over again just to be his.
He leans forward as his expression softens almost painfully. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to let me prove it. To start again. To fight this time. Because I swear to God, Anna, this time, I won’t walk away from you.”
My breath stutters, because the way he says it, the conviction behind it feels like truth. And that scares me more than any lie he’s ever told.
I shake my head and press a hand to my chest as if I can force my heartbeat to behave. “Stop romanticizing this. We’re not in some movie where everything magically falls back into place just because you finally admitted you screwed up and tossed a few emotional lines at me.”
“You’re right. We’re not in a movie. This is real life. And in real life, I still wake up in the middle of the night reaching for you. In real life, I still hate the silence in my house because it reminds me that you’re not there with me. In real life, I still—”
I lift my hand, stopping him before he can say another word.
“Enough, Landon. Let’s stop this here. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.
This back-and-forth, this tearing open old wounds, it’s pointless.
Raking through the past won’t change a thing, and it sure as hell won’t get us anywhere.
” My throat tightens, but I lock my expression into steel. “I’m not doing this with you.”
His chair scrapes back as he rises to his feet.
His palms slam down on the table as he leans toward me.
“The hell you’re not. You think I enjoy ripping open the same wounds I gave you?
I fucking don’t. But I’ll take it. I’ll take every ounce of your anger, every word meant to cut, if it means you’ll finally give me a chance.
Losing you once nearly destroyed me, and I’ll be damned if I let you shut me out again without a fight. ”
My fists knot into his shirt before I even realize it.
“You want to fight now? Where the hell was all this fire when it actually mattered, Landon? When I was begging you to talk to me, you didn’t fight then.
You walked away. You left me hurt, and now you think you can come back and play the martyr because you regret it?
No. You don’t get to rewrite history just because you’re sorry.
” I drag in a deep breath, my mind screaming at me to stop, to end the night before it tips into something I can’t take back.
But my body isn’t listening. It remembers what it felt like to be held by him, to have him whisper in my ear, and to feel his heartbeat under my palm.
I immediately drop my hands from his shirt and push my chair back, standing too fast, desperate to put some distance between us. “I should get some sleep.”
I turn, but his voice stops me before I can take a step.
“Anna.” I don’t turn, but his voice makes the space between us shrink without either of us moving. “Please… don’t make the same mistake I did.”
I swallow hard as he steps in front of me.
He lifts his hand and cups my face, the heat of his palm searing into my skin and sending a shiver racing down my spine.
My breath falters as his eyes lock onto mine.
I search his face, desperate to find the man I married and the man who left me.
He’s both. He’s neither. And maybe that’s the problem.
“I can’t promise you anything,” I whisper at last.
“I’m not asking for a promise,” he replies softly. “I’m asking you not to close the door completely.”
A war ignites inside me. A part of me wants to protect my heart and slam the door on him. But another part… the stupid, reckless, hopeful part, whispers that maybe it’s worth leaving it cracked open.