My stomach twisted.
He reached for my arm, and I jerked back so fast I nearly stumbled.
"Don't touch me."
Something shifted in his expression—irritation flashing beneath the practiced concern.
"You're being unreasonable," he said, voice cooling. "I came all the way here to apologize, and you won't even listen."
"I don't owe you anything." My voice shook, but I forced myself to keep talking. "Not my time. Not my forgiveness. Not a single goddamn thing."
"We were together for two years, Cinder. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"It meant everything to me." The words ripped out before I could stop them. "That's why it hurt so much when you destroyed it."
Gavin sighed like I was the one being difficult.
"You always do this," he said quietly. "You take one thing and turn it into the worst possible version of events."
My chest tightened.
Gavin stepped closer again. "I made you," he said softly. "You know that, right? Before me, you were just some traumatized kid playing nurse. I helped you become someone. I believed in you when no one else did. I pushed you to apply for that promotion."
The cruelty of it stole my breath.
It had taken me a long time to see it, but comments like that had been the beginning—small, insidious cuts that slowly eroded everything I believed about myself.
"Get away from my car," I managed.
"Cin—"
"Now."
He didn't move. Just stood there, blocking my path, that familiar smile returning like he thought he could still charm his way through this.
"I'm not leaving until we talk properly," he said. "You owe me that much."
"He said leave."
The voice came from behind me—low, steady, and carrying a weight that made Gavin's expression falter.
I turned.
Taranis stood at the edge of the parking lot, hair damp from his shower. He wasn't moving toward us, wasn't making any aggressive gestures. He was just... there. Solid. Certain. His eyes locked on Gavin with an intensity that made the air feel colder.
"This is a private conversation," Gavin said, recovering quickly. "Who the hell are you?" I almost laughed at Gavin's ignorance in challenging the one person half of Denver was in love with.
"Someone who heard him ask you to leave." Taranis's voice didn't rise, didn't threaten. It didn't need to. "Twice."
Gavin's face reddened. "Look, I don't know who you think you are, but this doesn't concern you."
"It concerns me." Taranis took a single step forward, and something about the movement made Gavin take a step back. "Because he doesn't want you here. And when someone says no, you listen."
Gavin laughed, but it came out thin. Nervous. "What, you're his boyfriend now? That's rich. He can't even—"
"I'm someone who has his back." Taranis cut him off, and the words landed in my chest like something heavy and warm. "Which is more than I can say for you."
For a long moment, nobody moved. The parking lot felt suspended in time. Gavin's face cycling through anger and calculation, Taranis standing like a wall between us and whatever came next, and me frozen somewhere in the middle, trying to remember how to breathe.