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It sends panic shooting through my veins.
My hand trembles slightly as I grip my purse. I step back, just half a pace, but it feels like a mile.
Because I don’t know who this man is right now.
And I can’t un-hear what he just said.
Shayla’s storming out when I find my way back to the fallout. Gage doesn’t move. His body’s still locked in the same battle stance, his chest rising and falling hard.
The room holds its breath. Even the shadows seem to shrink back. And while silence blankets us, the air is loaded, thick with static that crackles in your bones.
Then, slowly, Gage turns. Stiffly. Like his body hasn’t registered the fight is over. His eyes land on me and shock flares in them. Because, yeah, his fury burned so hot he forgot I was even here to see it.
Neither of us speak straight away. I think we’re both still reeling from the blast.
Then, I say quietly, “I didn’t think you wanted to fight Shayla in court.”
His whole body tenses again. “Fuck.” He drags his hand through his hair roughly. “I don’t. But she made it pretty fucking clear that’s what she wants.”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t think that’s what she wants.”
He snaps his gaze to mine. Hard. “She just told me to see who the courts choose, Amelia. How the fuck else am I meant to take that?”
“She was fighting for herself, Gage. Because you weren’t listening.”
His jaw flexes. “I heard every goddamn word she just said.” He takes a step closer. Not aggressively. Defensively. Fierce. “And yeah, you’re right. Shewasfighting for herself. Not Luna. She wants her life in LA, her man, her image. She doesn’t give a fuck what that does to her daughter.”
The heat in his voice isn’t aimed at Shayla anymore.
It’s aimed at me.
And it hits like a slap.
“Yes, you heard, but you didn’t listen,” I say, the sting still blooming under my skin. “There’s a difference between hearing and listening. I saw a woman trying to hold it together in front of a man who stopped listening the second she didn’t say what he wanted to hear.”
“I didn’t stop listening. I stopped trying to translate the bullshit into something that made sense.”
My heart pounds hard against my ribs, too fast and uneven, trying to outrun the tension in a room that feels too small for both our truths.
Everything in me is on edge.
My nervous system screamsgo, but I don’t.
I’ve been here before.
Trying to reach someone who only hears what they’ve already decided is true. Trying to speak a language a man refuses to learn. And I’m done swallowing the damage just because he doesn’t know the words.
I’m tired of women being the ones who bend, who explain, who shrink their truth to make it easier to digest.
“You heard a woman trying to manipulate you. I saw one trying to protect herself the only way she knew how. And yeah, I don’t think she went about it the right way, but we all act out our wounds in different ways, Gage.” I pause. “She said she wasnever enough for you. That she felt more like a crisis to manage than a person to love. And maybe you didn’t mean to make her feel that small, but that doesn’t mean she was wrong to feel it.”
I take a step back.
Then another.
And even though this is my choice, I feel the ache of it unfold between us.
Gage registers both steps like a hit to the chest.