Cole
I didn’t leave when the door slammed.
I stood there with my boots planted on Mara’s floor, jaw tight, pulse still hot from Evan’s mouth-off and the way his eyes slid around like he owned s**t he’d already thrown away. I’d dealt with louder men. Meaner ones. This guy wasn’t dangerous. He was messy. Entitled. The kind who thought showing up counted as effort.
Mara’s shoulders were tense, spine straight, like she’d locked herself in place so she wouldn’t shake. I knew that posture. I’d worn it after fights that didn’t leave bruises.
“You don’t have to stay,” she said, not turning around.
“I know.”
I stayed anyway.
She exhaled through her nose, annoyed, grateful, pissed, relieved. All of it. She walked past me toward the sink, set her mug down harder than necessary, then braced her
