Page 80 of Unbroken

“Correction, brother. She’s your dead wife’s sister. There’s a difference.”

I flinch. I knew he’d say it. Still hurts.

“I think she thinks I’m only interested because she reminds me of Mariah.”

He leans back. Ever the pragmatist. “Well. Are you?”

“No. God, no. She’s night and day from Mariah.”

“They didn’t even look alike,” he agrees. “You could tell they were related, sure. But they were nothing alike.”

“Exactly.”

“There’s a simple solution to this,” he says flatly, the kind of pragmatism that grates when you’re barely holding yourself together. “You want to test how she feels? How you feel? Make sure you're not leaping in with both feet before you've had a damn second to breathe, to process? Is that what this is?”

I shrug, but my throat feels like it’s caving in on itself.

“I don’t know. Is it?” A hollow laugh, humorless. “Who the hell knows anymore?”

“Then give it time,” he says, always the rational one. “Stay out of her pants.” His eyes cut to me hard. “Don’t even look. As tempting as it might be to bury your grief, it’s only going to cloud your judgment, brother.”

He's right. Of course he's right. But fuck, I hate that he's right.

“You’re worried about Luka,” he adds, voice gentling. “She’s good with him. Makes sense. If my wife weren’t here anymore, I’d be worried about my kids too.” He pauses, lets the weight of it settle before he adds, “But I’m more concerned about how she is withyou.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I shoot back, sharper than I intended.

He stares at me. Long. Measured. I just made a guy kiss pavement for disrespecting him and won’t fall into the same mistake now myself.

Rafail levels me with a look. We’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember, but right now, I’m reminded that he’s a little older, and he has younger siblings he’s raised. He crosses his arms on his chest.

“Are we going to have an honest conversation? Or are you going to take everything personally?”

My spine stiffens. I let out a long, slow breath.

Rafail continues. “You’re wealthy. Powerful. Attractive. Women like that shit. They’re drawn to it. And as your brother—and frankly, your boss—I need to make sure she likes you for the right reasons.”

“And what are those?” I ask, jaw tight.

He tilts his head. “See? You’re not even sure yourself.”

And I don’t answer because I’m not. Everything about this—about her—feels confusing and unsteady and charged in ways I don’t know how to handle.

“Does she support who you are? Do you even know if your values align? Is there real chemistry? 'Cause the most perfect person on the damn planet can be in front of you, but if there’s no spark—no fire—it’s dead on arrival.”

“Yeah, I got it.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Answer to those questions? I don’t fucking know. I really don’t.”

“Maybe you don’t need to know right now,” he says more gently. “Just make your decisions. Protect what’s yours. And then? Let the rest come as it comes.”

It sounds good on paper. Real good. But it’s a hell of a lot harder when your heart—and someone else's—is on the line. What do I even have to offer her?

I go looking for her. But Ruthie’s not where I left her.

Zoya is though.

“Where’s Ruthie?”

I don’t even think to check the tracker app—she was right here. I pull it up now.