Page 85 of The Embers That Remain

The tears burned unexpectedly. I blinked them back. He looked away first. Toward the television. Toward Grandpa. Anywhere but me. And that hurt too.

“I still take it,” he said.

“I see that.”

He nodded. “No point pretending otherwise.”

I looked down at the bottle still in his hand, then back at him.

“No matter what has happened between us, I’m so proud of you for acknowledging that you needed help and taking the steps to get it.” He deserved to know someone saw him.

His throat worked. “Nobody’s ever said that to me.”

The prescription bottle blurred. Because he’d been carrying this alone while I’d never known, and somehow, even after all the years, the damage between us was still unfolding. My eyes stung. My fingers twisted together until the knuckles hurt.

“I can’t do this.”

His expression grew guarded. I hated that he immediately understood what I meant.

“Cali.”

“You should go home.”

The words scraped their way out. His shoulders dropped slightly.

“We weren’t talking about that.”

“Weren’t we?”

The question hung between us. His silence answered it. I looked away, anywhere except the man beside me.

“My mom spent her whole life chasing love.” The words came quietly. “Every few months there was somebody new. Somebody she swore was different, special, ‘the one.’”

A bitter smile tugged at my mouth. “Somebody she couldn’t live without.”

Lane stayed silent.

“I watched her build her life, her personality, her hobbies around men who were only after one thing.” My throat constricted. “I watched what happened when they split.” The memories rose uninvited. Promises. Fights. Packed suitcases. Moving. Tears. Starting over. Again and again and again.

“I’ve spent most of my life trying not to become her.” The confession hung in the air—raw and ugly. “I think somewhere along the way I stopped believing any of it was supposed to work.”

“Cali.” His gaze never left my face.

I shook my head. “No.” The single word came out stronger. Safer.

“I don’t think I’m good at love. You’re wasting your time with whatever it is you’re doing here.”

His eyes softened. I looked down.

“You love your son.”

My heart missed a beat because Jace meant the world to me.

“You loved your grandma, and now your grandpa.” Each word was carefully spoken, like he was building something fragile between us.

“You love people better than anyone I’ve ever known.”

The tears I’d been fighting finally gathered. I pressed my lips together because he was wrong. Or maybe because some awful part of me wanted him to be right.