Slowly, I peel myself off the couch. Muscles stiff from tension, mouth dry. Already know what's waiting on the other side of that door.
I pull it open.
Olivia stands there, and pissed doesn't even cover it. Her eyes hit me like twin blades, cutting straight through instead of just staring at me. Silence stretches between us, thick enough to choke on, both of us waiting for the other to crack first.
Her arms cross tight over her chest like armor. Lips pressed thin, jaw locked, the kind of expression that begs for answers but promises she won't make it easy.
"You gonna say something?" she finally snaps, voice low and dangerous, arms still crossed like she's holding herself together.
I lean against the doorframe, trying to look casual, but my pulse hammers. "You gonna come in first?"
Her eyes narrow, taking a beat long enough to make me sweat. Then she shoulders past me without touching, coconut and anger trailing in her wake. The door clicks shut behind her.
She spins in the living room, taking in the mess. Empty beer cans, ashtray overflowing, TV flickering some bullshit infomercial. Judgment flashes across her face before she locks it down.
"So," she says, turning those eyes back on me. "The car story. That was bullshit."
No question. Statement. Caught.
I rub the back of my neck. "Yeah."
"Then what?" Steps closer, heat rising. "Family emergency? Work? Or are you just done with me?"
Each word lands like a jab. Fair ones. The guilt I've been carrying twists harder.
"No. Not done," I say quiet.
Her laugh comes out bitter. "Could've fucking fooled me. Weeks of nothing. Then that lame text. Now this?" Gestures at the room, at me. "What the hell, Raul?"
"It's complicated," I start.
Her eyes flash. "Don't. Not that bullshit excuse."
Deserved.
Deep breath.
"It's work. Bad work. The kind you don't say no to."
She stills. Processes. "How bad? What the fuck do you mean?"
"Bad enough I can't tell you."
Arms drop. Hurt flickers raw before anger slams back down. "Can't? Or won't?"
"Neither."
She steps closer. Close enough I smell her shampoo, feel her heat. "Don't decide that for me."
"Olivia."
"No." Finger jabs my chest. "You don't get to ghost me, lie to me, then play stupid. You owe me the truth."
Truth. The one word that could unravel everything between us.
I can't let that happen. Not now.
I need to change the subject. Fast.