That’s not an answer.That’s a deflection.
And I’m not letting her close herself off.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I press, softening my grip, but not letting go.“Because I know you’re thinking something.”
She laughs once, hollow.“Yeah.I’m thinking this is a fucking disaster.”
I don’t flinch, but—fuck.
It shouldn’t hit this hard.I should have expected it—hell,I didexpect it.Anna Chang has spent years perfecting the art of self-preservation.But hearing her say it out loud?Hearing her callthisa mistake?
It burns.
Something tightens in my chest, coiling around my ribs like a slow, suffocating squeeze.My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out the distant sounds of the neighborhood outside.
I need her to take it back.
I need her to tell me she didn’t mean it.
I need?—
I just need her to not look at me like that.
“Ace—”
She finally turns, finally meets my eyes, and I hate what I see there.
Not regret.
Not even anger.
Fear.
My stomach twists.Because I know I put that there.
Not today.But years ago.
When she was still full of life and believed in me.
When she still had faith that I wouldn’t let her down.
“This whole day has been too much,” she says, her voice tight.It’s like she’s inside my head.I literally thought the same thing.Just when I think she’s going to close down, she whispers, “This—” She drags a hand through her hair.“I don’t know how to do this.”
I take a slow breath, choosing my next words carefully.“I’m not asking you to have it figured out right now.I know I sure as hell don’t.”
She exhales sharply, frustrated.“Then what are you asking from me?”
I hesitate, then say the only thing that really matters.“For you to not shut me out.”
Her lips part like she’s going to argue, but she doesn’t.
Because she knows.
That’s exactly what she was about to do.
She shakes her head, muttering a curse, then pulls her wrist from my grasp.I let her.
“I just… I need a minute, okay?”Her voice is low and almost cracks.