Chapter One Hundred
Xavier
Something’s off the second I walk into the office. Ruby’s desk is empty. Chair pushed neatly in. Her computer turned off. No purse. No coffee mug. Nothing.
My stomach drops to my feet. “Where’s Ruby?”
Dad doesn’t look up from the paperwork spread across his desk. “She left.”
The words land wrong. “Left where?”
“Home, I assume.”
“When?” Ben should be there, so she should be okay.
“Couple hours ago.”
Except, what if she went to her house? A knot forms low in my gut. No. She wouldn’t have done that. Right?
Fuck. What if my stupid mouth did more than ruin things between Ruby and me? What if she’s put herself in danger by returning home? By herself. And it’s my fault.
I stare at the empty desk. “She say anything?”
Dad looks up at me over the rim of his glasses. “Wasn’t feeling well.”
That tight feeling in my gut gets worse. I rub a hand across the back of my neck. “Did she say when she’d be back?”
Dad studies me too long before leaning back in his chair. “You screw something up?”
“Maybe.” What if she’s not coming back? I pinch the bridge of my nose. Jesus. Today is a fucking shitshow.
“Women tend to leave when men do that.”
“Not helpful.”
He shrugs once. “Just an observation.”
I glance back toward Ruby’s empty desk. The silence sitting there feels wrong. Too final. “Did she say anything else?”
“No.” Then his voice turns calmer. “She looked tired.” Dad watches me for another second. “Sometimes when somebody walks away, it’s because they’re too worn out to keep having the same argument.”
I frown. “We didn’t argue.”
“That almost sounds worse.” I exhale sharply at his words and turn toward the door. “Where you going?”
“To find Ruby.”
Dad grunts. “You might want to figure out what you want before you go chasing after her.”
I don’t bother to respond on my way out the door.
By the time I get home, my pulse is pounding so hard that each beat feels like an icepick stabbing into my brain. Her car isn’t in the driveway.
Ben looks up from the couch the second I walk in. “Hey.”
“Where’s Ruby?”
His lips press together before he licks them. “She came by earlier. Grabbed her stuff.”
Something heavy drops straight through my stomach. “All of it?”
“Pretty much.” He lifts a shoulder. “As far as I could tell anyway. She took the pig with her.”
I curse under my breath.
Ben leans forward. “You two have a fight?”
“Something like that.”
He studies my face for a long moment. “You might want to fix that.”
“That’s the plan.”
Except, I have no idea how I’m going to do that. Because Ruby didn’t yell. Didn’t accuse me. Didn’t demand anything. She pulled away. And that scares me worse. I’m back in the truck less than two minutes later.
*****
When I pull into the driveway next to her car, my teeth grind together. She came back here. Alone. After everything.
A few seconds later the door opens. Ruby stands there in leggings and one of her oversized hoodies, Squirt posted by her feet. She looks calm. Too calm. And I hate that look more than I’ve hated anything in a long time.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
Neither of us moves at first. Then she steps back to let me inside. The house feels colder than it did the last time we were there. Or maybe that’s just me.
Ruby leans against the kitchen counter while I stand there trying to figure out where even to start.
“You left work.”
“Yes, I wasn’t feeling well.”
“You left my house.”
A flicker crosses her face at that. Not guilt. Just exhaustion. “I figured that part was obvious.”
My jaw tightens. “You came back here alone?”
Her brows pull together, like she forgot why that matters. Then her gaze flicks briefly toward the once broken window. The one I fixed. Something in her expression dims further. “I locked the doors.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I have cameras.”
“Two of which got busted.”
She closes her eyes briefly, as if the reminder physically hurts. And it hits me all at once. The stalker. The break-in. The notes. The lack of sleep. Stress. Exhaustion. Me. She looks exhausted all the way through. Not scared anymore. Just depleted. And it’s all my fault.
“I’ll say with you.” I’ve got to fix this. Any way I can. It’s not safe for her to be alone. Anxiety claws along my spine.
Ruby exhales. “I can’t do this anymore, Xavier.”
The words land like a punch to the chest, sucking the air out of my lungs. This isn’t about me staying here. It’s about us. “This doesn’t have to end.”
Her expression softens. Not hopeful. Just sad. “Why not?”
Because I don’t want it to. Because the thought of her pulling away feels like somebody tightening a fist around my ribs, cracking them one at a time. Because everything feels wrong without her.
But the words jam somewhere in my throat before they can make it out.
Ruby watches me struggle for an answer. And I see the moment something settles inside her. Not anger. Acceptance.
She straightens her shoulders. “We both knew what this was.”
“That’s not….” I shake my head. She has to know that my past means nothing. Lindsey meant nothing. She never did. For fuck’s sake, that was over two years ago. “The thing with Lindsey isn’t important.”
“I know. You said you don’t do relationships.”
“That was before.”
“Was it?” Her voice stays calm. Gentle even. Which makes this worse. “You said no pressure. No expectations.”
I rub a hand over my jaw. “Ruby–”
“And honestly? I think I reached a point where pretending those things didn’t matter hurt more than admitting they did.” She looks away briefly, toward the dark kitchen window. “I can’t keep fighting someone outside my house and….” She trails off before shaking her head. “I can’t do it anymore.”
The words hollow something out inside my chest. Because she’s right. This isn’t about Lindsey. This is about everything piling on top of her at once until she hit her limit.
I step closer. “You shouldn’t be here alone tonight.”
A faint, tired smile touches her mouth. “There it is.”
“What?”
“That protective thing you do.”
“Ruby, I’m serious.”
“I know.”
She folds her arms lightly across herself. “But you don’t have to keep doing this.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” she says, “you’ve already done enough.”
Something about the sentence makes panic rise hard and fast in my chest. Done enough…. Like she’s already separating herself from me. Untangling herself while I’m trying to catch up to what’s happening. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“Why not?” The question isn’t sharp. Isn’t challenging. If anything, it sounds genuinely confused. Like she truly doesn’t understand anymore why I’d stay.
And the worst part? I don’t know how to explain it without saying things I’ve spent years avoiding. So instead, I stand there in the middle of her kitchen, saying nothing, because she’s not going to believe anything I say. I’ve shown her the exact opposite. Time and time again.
And for the first time in a very long time, I feel out of my depth.