Chapter Ninety-Eight
Xavier
The second Ruby’s car disappears down the street, everything feels wrong. I just let her slip through my fingers because I reacted half a second too late to stop it.
I’m holding the folder she handed me—Dad’s paperwork. But I’m not paying any attention to it. I’m looking at Lindsey. And every part of the last ten minutes clicks into place. The questions. The timing. The way she kept glancing over my shoulder.
My jaw tightens hard enough to ache. “You knew she was there.”
Lindsey shrugs lightly. “I noticed.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Oh, relax, Xavier.”
My patience snaps. “You set that up.”
She crosses her arms and smirks. “I didn’t make you say anything. You did that all on your own.”
“That’s not the point.”
“No?” she asks calmly. “Because it sounded pretty honest to me.”
Fucking bitch. I rake a hand through my hair, frustration boiling fast beneath my skin. “You baited the conversation.”
One shoulder raises again as she bites her bottom lip, slowly letting it go. “I asked questions.”
“You knew exactly where to push.”
Her expression barely changes. But there’s satisfaction underneath it now. Subtle. Controlled. “You’re angry at the wrong person.”
“That supposed to mean something?”
“It means Ruby didn’t look surprised.” Lindsey tilts her head. “She looked hurt.”
The words land harder than they should because she’s right. Ruby hadn’t looked shocked. She looked… tired, like something inside her gave out.
I look down at the folder in my hand. Then hear my own voice replay in my head. She’s a friend. She knows where I stand. You knew I didn’t want anything serious.
Jesus Christ. None of it was technically a lie. That’s the problem. I’ve been saying the same things for years. The same rules. The same boundaries. The same careful distance.
Except somewhere between Ruby arguing with me about which insulation she should purchase and falling asleep with her wrapped around me, those words stopped fitting.
Deep down, I’ve always known it, but I kept saying them because they were easier than admitting this had become something else entirely. And I don’t know what to do with that.
What happens when life happens, and I’m not the fun guy who banters and teases? When she looks at me like I’m not worth the effort? What happens when she leaves me?
Lindsey watches me too closely. “That hit a nerve.”
I look up sharply. “Leave Ruby out of your bullshit.”
Her brows lift. “Your bullshit, Xavier. Not mine.”
I step closer before I can stop myself. “She doesn’t deserve to get dragged into this.”
Lindsey lets out a short laugh. “Women always think they’ll be the exception.”
Something ugly twists low in my chest. “Don’t.”
“What?” she asks lightly. “You said what you always say. Don’t blame me because she finally listened.”
The words punch straight through my chest. Because the worst part? She’s not wrong.
Her car is gone. The street is empty. A sick feeling settles low in my stomach. Not because Ruby heard me. Because I know exactly what she heard.
Not – I don’t care about you. But – I care about you while keeping one foot outside the door. I care about you if no one else is looking. Until it’s no longer fun.
And I see how exhausting that must’ve been for her.
Lindsey transfers her weight from one foot to the other. “So what now?”
I look at her for a long second. Then step back. “We’ll finish the project today.” Her expression tightens. “But after that,” I say flatly, “call somebody else.”
For once, I don’t care if I do a good job. The only thing that matters is getting out of here and trying to salvage something that I don’t deserve to save.
“You’re seriously cutting ties over this?”
“I’m done having this conversation.” Which is true. Because Lindsey isn’t the problem anymore, I already know where the real problem is. Me.
The walls I built. The rules I kept repeating long after they no longer matched reality. The fact that Ruby stood there, listening, while I described our relationship in the same language I used for every other woman since Claire.
I turn and walk back toward the crew.
“Everything good?” one of the guys asks while holding a drill silently in his hand.
“Yeah.” Lie.
I grab the nail gun and fire a nail into the railing harder than necessary. The sound cracks through the yard. But it doesn’t drown out the image stuck in my head.
Ruby standing there, too still. Too calm. Looking at me, like she’d stopped trying to convince herself this arrangement didn’t hurt her.
And for the first time since this started, a thought hits me hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. She’s not pulling away to punish me.
She’s pulling away because she’s done trying to survive on the scraps, I kept insisting should’ve been enough, and I’ve got to figure out a way to fix it.