Page 20 of Rook
“That’s your name now?” she asked, stepping closer. “Rook?”
“It’s a road name,” he said flatly.
“It’s not your name.”
“It is to them.”
“And to you?”
He finally looked at her.
And the force of it nearly knocked her back.
His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, storm gray and guarded, furious and hurting.
“You don’t get to ask me that,” he said quietly.
Avery’s throat tightened. “I’m just trying to understand.”
“No,” he snapped. “You’re trying to walk back into my life like you didn’t disappear from it.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” He laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You left, Aves. You didn’t look back. You didn’t call. You didn’t write. You didn’t give a damn.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
She stepped closer, anger and heartbreak tangling in her chest. “You didn’t fight for me.”
His jaw flexed. “I didn’t think I had the right to.”
The words hit her like a blow.
Silence stretched between them. Thick. Suffocating. Electric.
The prospects kept cleaning, eyes down, pretending they weren’t listening. But their shoulders were tense. Their movements careful. They knew better than to interrupt.
Avery swallowed hard. “I didn’t know you hated me.”
Noah’s expression cracked, just for a second. A flicker of pain. Regret. Something raw.
Then he shut it down.
“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I just don’t know what to do about you.”
Her voice trembled. “I didn’t come back to hurt you.”
“Too late.”
He grabbed his toolkit, shoved it into his pocket, and headed for the door.
“Noah…”
He didn’t stop.
He didn’t look back.
