Page 103 of Through the Storm

“Okay,” he says finally.

The word guts me.

“I don’t agree,” he adds. “But I hear you. I respect your choice.”

He steps back, giving me space like I asked for. Like a decent man. Like someone who respects boundaries even when they’re killing him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He holds my gaze. “But I won’t push.”

That hits me straight in the heart.

He grabs his jacket, pauses at the door, then turns back. “I wasn’t doing any of this because I felt obligated.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“I was doing it because I wanted to choose you. And I was hopingyou’d choose me. But I can’t be the only one who fights for this.”

Then he’s gone. I lock the door behind him and slide down against it, my composure finally cracking.

I don’t know how I’ll ever smile again without him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ben

COLLATERAL DAMAGE

I don’thow I got there. I just know that ten minutes after Katy closed the door in my face—softly, apologetically, like that somehow made it easier—I’m pulling into the Winters’ driveway with my chest tight and my hands still shaking on the steering wheel.

I sit there for a second longer than necessary, forehead resting against the wheel.

Willing her to call me in the next minute and tell me she changed her mind. That it was just a mistake. I keep waiting for twenty minutes.

Nothing.

Get it together, Ben.

I don’t even make it all the way inside before Danny’s on me.

He barrels down the hall like he’s been waiting for this exact moment, skidding on the hardwood before planting his big head against my thigh. I crouch automatically, burying my hands in his fur. He leans in harder, solid and unmovable, like he’s decided I need supervision.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Okay. Hi to you too.”

“Hey.” Ella’s voice comes from the living room. Calm. Careful.Like she already knows.

Wyatt’s there too.

He’s stretched out in the armchair, one ankle crossed over his knee, beer in hand. He lifts his head when he sees me, eyes sharpening for half a second before he schools his expression into something neutral.

That alone tells me how bad I look.

“Well…” I straighten, forcing a breath. “Since when are you two allowed to hang out unsupervised again?”

It comes out light. Too light.

Ella doesn’t smile. “Oh no.” Her voice is even. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I ask, already knowing the answer.