Jack’s POV
The slam of my door echoed too loud in the silence. Too sharp, too final. I stood there for a long while with my hand still pressed against the wood, breath coming heavier than it should, like I’d run a mile when all I’d done was flee from her gaze.
That gaze.
It lingered. It clung. It did things to me I had no right letting it do.
I tore my hand away and stalked across the room, boots scraping over the old wooden floor. Back and forth. Pacing. The air felt heavy, thick with the echo of her words.
"If you want me to stop… then let me go."
Let her go.
The thought scraped across my mind like broken glass. I raked a hand through my hair and exhaled, sharp and ragged.
Why couldn’t I? Why, after all these years of learning to live alone, of building my life around silence and
