The word lands heavier than it should, hitting a spot deep in my chest that aches inexplicably.
I didn’t know. That’s the part I cling to. I didn’t know when I snapped at her. When I avoided her. When I pretended I didn’t notice how pale she looked that morning, how careful her movements were.
I didn’t know.
I just walked away.
My jaw tightens.
I force myself to move – down the path, away from her place, boots crunching too loud against the stones. The sea air hits me hard when I reach the headland, sharp and briny, like it’s trying to cut something loose inside my chest.
I stand there for a long time, staring out at the water.
It doesn’t help.
My thoughts keep looping back – her hands shaking around that mug, the way she’d gone still when I looked at her neck, the way the twins talked about her and Finn like it mattered.
Finn.
The word curdles.
I don’t begrudge him helping her. I don’t. He’s good with people. Soft where I’m sharp. Careful where I’m not. If anyone’s going to look after her, it makes sense that it’s him.
That doesn’t stop the low, ugly twist of something in my gut when I picture it.
When I picture her curled on someone else’s sofa. Someone else’s chest.
I shove the thought away and start walking again, faster this time, burning it off. Back past the row of ocean view houses. Past the turnoff to her place.
I don’t look.
Up to the main road and down into the village. I walk and walk and walk and don’t stop until I’m exhausted.
I make it home eventually, muscles tight, mood worse than when I left. Kai takes one look at my face and wisely says nothing. Koa’s gone. Finn’s still not back.
The silence stretches.
I tell myself I’ll give it a day. Just one. Let Finn handle it. Let her rest. Let whatever this is pass without me making it worse.
I sit on the edge of the table, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor.
One day.
That’s reasonable.
That’s controlled.
That’s—
My phone buzzes on the counter.
I look at it. Don’t touch it. Then I do when I spot Finn’s name.
Finn
Got called away tomorrow. Business shit. Can you and the twins keep an eye on her if needed? She’s worse tonight. Don’t want her alone.
The words blur for a second.