Page 95 of At First Spark
“You ran out of patience back there,” he says.
I don’t turn.
“I ran out of options.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
I exhale slowly and turn to face him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, the porch light catching the edge of his face, throwing the rest into shadow.
He looks…tired. Not physically. Something deeper than that.
“You didn’t have to step in like that,” I say.
His mouth curves slightly
“Yeah,” he says. “I did.”
I shake my head.
“That wasn’t Hadley’s or your fight.”
His gaze locks onto mine.
“Felt like it was.”
The words shouldn’t matter, but they do anyway.
I turn back toward the yard.
“You made it worse.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“How?
I hesitate because the answer isn’t simple. The truth is, he didn’t. He just made it harder to ignore.
“He’s not wrong about everything,” I say finally.
The silence that follows is stifling. Brash. I don’t need to look at him to feel it.
“About what?” Holt asks with a quiet voice. Lower.
I turn slowly, meeting his eyes.
“This being complicated,” I say.
A muscle in his jaw tightens.
“Everything worth anything is complicated.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
The space between us shifts like always. Like we keep circling the same moment, and neither of us knows how to step out of it.
