11. Chapter 11 #3
“I’ve met you before,” she said. “In a different man. It’s the guy who takes on projects—houses, people—women.”
That got a reaction. A flicker of something in his eyes, but it was gone before she could name it.
He set his glass down. “You don’t know me.”
She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Do you want me to help around here or not?”
“I do. I just don’t want—“ She stopped herself. Shit.
He didn’t let her off the hook. “Don’t want what?”
Maddie forced her spine straight.
She didn’t want to want him.
Didn’t want to get comfortable.
Didn’t want to feel like she could breathe for the first time in years—because that was dangerous.
Because she was leaving.
She needed to find those separation papers. Sign them. Sell the house. Get the hell out of here before she let herself believe in something that wasn’t real.
So she set her jaw, ignoring the way her hands were shaking, the way her stomach twisted even harder as she said—
“My life—my mess—this isn’t your problem, Heath.”
She expected anger. Frustration. Maybe a fight.
Instead, he looked downright amused.
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “That so?”
“Yes.”
His eyes flickered over her—not unkind, not harsh. Just… knowing. Like he was watching her dig a hole she couldn’t climb out of.
“And,” he said, voice low, even. “What exactly do you think I’m doing here?”
“What type of question is that?” Maddie flushed, hating how hot her skin suddenly felt. That really pissed her off.
“Cut the bullshit and be real with me. What’s really the problem?”
“Let me think.” Her voice wobbled, just a little, but she powered through. “This house isn’t your responsibility. I’m not your responsibility. You don’t have to be here.”
Heath studied her for a long second. Then, just when she thought he might actually say something important, he leaned back. “Alright.”
Maddie blinked. “What?”
“I have to go.” He pushed back from the counter, stretching his arms over his head. “See you around.”
And god help her—she panicked. “Wait.”
He stopped. Turned. “Maddie—go to bed. Get some rest. I should too.”
Maddie clenched her fists. Jesus, she was going to kill him.
And he picked up his phone. Put his plate in the sink. And headed to the door.
Maddie knew she should have let him go. She should have just stayed there, let him leave, let the moment dissolve into the silence she thought she wanted.
But she couldn’t.
“Wait,” she said again, voice softer this time, like she was realizing too late that she had already lost him.
Heath stopped. Turned back. Expression unreadable.
“Maddie.” His voice was final. “We’re done here.”
Her stomach dropped.
He was leaving.
Because of her. Because she was pushing, deflecting, refusing to let herself have something good.
It was stupid. So fucking stupid.
And before she could think better of it, she was walking after him, down the hallway towards the front door.
Her words tumbled out—desperate, raw, humiliating.
“Heath, I’m sorry.”
That made him pause.
She chewed her lip, forcing down the panic, forcing down the emotion threatening to explode out of her.
“I’m a mess,” she said quickly. “You’re right.”
His eyes flickered, his arms crossing. “I didn’t say that.”
“I need help.” She exhaled hard, running a shaking hand through her hair. “Your help.”
He was silent. Just watching her, waiting.
She swallowed. Fought past the lump in her throat.
“I don’t know how to ask for help,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper now. “It’s been… hard. I’ve been alone for a long time.”
He didn’t say anything, but he was listening.
Maddie kept going. Because if she stopped, she’d break.
“Alone in my marriage,” she said. “He wasn’t nice to me.”
Heath’s jaw ticked.
“And—” She swallowed, the words lodging in her throat.
He stepped closer. Slow, deliberate.
Then, so gently she barely felt it, he lifted her chin with his fingers, tilting her face toward his.
His eyes burned with something fierce, something unreadable.
“And?” he murmured.
Maddie shuddered. She wanted to look away.
But she didn’t.
“And I forgot how to be nice to myself.”
And just like that, she lost it.
Completely.
The tears came hard and fast. Not the silent, restrained ones she had let slip before, not the kind she could shove back down.
This was breaking.
This was years of exhaustion, of fear, of self-doubt finally ripping open all at once.
Her body shook, breath coming in harsh, stuttering sobs, her knees nearly buckling beneath her.
“This is the first time I’ve cried since—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence, words splintering into sobs.
“I’m so sorry,” she choked out. Apologizing for what, she didn’t even know.
And Heath?
He didn’t leave.
He didn’t hesitate.
He pulled her in. Hard, solid, steady.
His arms wrapped tight around her, one hand threading into her hair, his lips brushing against her temple.
He didn’t say anything stupid or meaningless.
He just held her.
And when she couldn’t stand anymore, when her body gave up on trying to keep her upright, Heath did the only thing that made sense.
He hoisted her up, strong and effortless.
And he carried her upstairs.