Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five
Xavier
That Night
The TV mutters low from the living room while Ben sits sprawled across the couch with a beer in his hand and Sam leans against the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone. Both look up when the door shuts behind me.
Ben’s expression tightens. “Hey.”
I toss my keys onto the side table. No smartass comments tonight. That alone tells me they know how bad this is.
I drag a hand through my hair and head for the kitchen. My entire body feels exhausted. Not physically. Deeper than that. Like something inside me got cracked open in Ruby’s kitchen and hasn’t settled back into place since.
Sam watches me. “How’s Ruby?”
“She’s home.” The words catch in my throat.
“She okay?”
I lean against the counter and stare down at the floor before answering. “Physically, yeah.”
Neither of them misses the wording.
Ben sits forward. “And everything else?”
I huff out a rough breath. “She asked for space.”
Sam winces. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” I open the refrigerator. Mostly because standing still feels impossible right now.
Ben studies me for a long second. “You moved your stuff out?”
“Yeah.” The memory of grabbing my clothes, charger, and extra boots hits hard, sending a sharp pain through my chest. “I wasn’t trying to leave.” I shut the door without getting anything. It’s all a blur anyway. “She asked for space, so I gave it to her.”
Sam rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “That probably hurt her too.”
“I know.”
That’s the problem. Everything hurts her right now. And I always manage to make it worse while trying to make it better.
Ben rubs a hand across his face. “I’ve been thinking about Thanksgiving.”
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
“I brought her here.” His voice is rough. “I let her into this house. Near Ruby.”
“You didn’t know.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But I keep replaying it anyway.”
None of us says anything until Sam breaks the silence. “This isn’t your fault. Neither of your faults.”
I laugh, but it’s bitter rather than full of humor. “Ruby thought somebody was after her because of something she did.” I stare at the floor. “But it was because of me.”
Ben leans forward. “So, what now?”
I drag my hand through my hair. “She thinks I’m choosing her because of the baby.”
Neither of them argues. Because after everything I said about relationships.... I get why she’d believe that.
Ben picks up his beer again. “Then don’t tell her she’s wrong. Show her.”
“Every day,” Sam agrees with his brother.
The room falls quiet again. Consistency. That’s what she needs now. Not another speech. Not promises. Just someone who keeps showing up.
And this time.... I’m not going anywhere.