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I let out a small breath, calming myself. “My mate is going to be home soon,” I say, “and I need you to go before he gets here or there will be problems.”
There’s very little emotion in my words, and he flinches.
“This isn’t a mind game, Maia,” he says softly. I hate the hold that Ryan still has on my soul because in instances like this, it hurts. “I’m not here to hurt you. I… I just want to help you move on.”
“Move on?” I reach up to wipe my eyes, struggling to hold Phoebe with just one hand. I jerk away when he reaches over to wipe my tears for me, his hands so deathly cold as they brush across my cheek.
His touch is repulsive.
Nothing like my mate’s.
Nothing like Ryan’s.
“Do not touch me,” I snarl. “You have no right to lay your hands on me.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, taking a step back. He seems confused, hurt, even.
“You come here claiming to help me move on, as if that is your goal?” I hiss. “How is this torment helping me move on?”
I adjust my arms so that my wriggly daughter can be more comfortable. She still can’t sit up alone, but she has been enjoying it when I support her into an upright position and let her face outwards. She loves the view, loves being able to look around properly. Even, apparently, if the person she sees is her psychotic uncle.
“How is seeing his face every single time you show up helping me move on? I see you, but I thought I saw your brother. All those times I let you touch Phoebe and say hi and connect… I thought you were Ryan. I clung to that. I thought I was special, that I had magic to see the dead so that he could still meet his child.
“You’ve made me into this pathetic woman. I was so pathetically desperate, clinging to the face of my dead fiancé, pretending that he could love our daughter. That he could meet her and love her, even though he’s not here.
“You have caused me so much pain, every single day, because every time you left, I remembered that Ryan was dead. It made those feelings of grief stronger and harder to ignore. I have a daughter. Mine and Ryan’s little girl. I can’t be this much of a mess when I need to be here for her.
“So, no, Ethan Grey, you’re not trying to help me move on. I don’t know your motives, but it is not that.”
He reaches up to brush my tears away but stops himself just in time. Smart man, because whilst he’s the one with the sharp teeth, I’m the one at risk of biting him.
“You live at home with the very people my fiancé left. The very people that want to take my child from me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse as tears drip down my face. “You’re not helping me, Ethan Grey. If you were trying… you could’ve saved her. You could’ve helped us. But you haven’t.”
“I think we’re in a misunder?—”
“Do not try to tell me I am wrong,” I snarl. Phoebe babbles something, and I press a gentle kiss to her head. “I have no idea how you are here, but trust me, you are not getting into my house ever again. No more pie to steal, no more journals that belong to your brother for you to take. I wish we knew what secrets were hidden in there that you’re so desperate to protect. But you’re just a coward. A spineless coward.”
I hear the familiar hum of Topher’s engine, and I know he’s not far. A minute maybe before we’ll see him. A minute for Ethan to run away.
He nods once, but his face is troubled. I can read him just as easily as I could Ryan, and something I’ve said has disturbed him.
I don’t know what, and it annoys me that I’m still lost.
But he gives me a pleasant smile. “Seeing Phoebe has been a gift I do not deserve, and I never meant to harm you. I won’t argue my innocence. If you need me, Maia, I’m only a call away. I stand by you, and her, for as long as I live.” He reaches up to touch me, but when I flinch, he sighs. He cocks his head as a frown settles on his face. “Goodbye for now, Maia Papaya.”
I frown at the nickname, not sure how he’s ever heard that. Only Ryan called me that.
He turns and jogs away, disappearing around the corner just as Topher’s car appears from the other side. Just missing each other, yet again, but this time, will hopefully be the last.
Tears are still dripping down my face as he pulls into the driveway. The worry and concern on Topher’s face as he pulls up to a stop outside the house makes my heart burn in all the best ways.
The car shuts off, and I relax as much as my body allows now that he’s home. He climbs out, and I don’t even hesitate in not keeping this newest visit a secret.
“Topher, Ethan was here,” I whisper, and his face is filled with anger. He sniffs the air, his eyes darting around, and confusion fills his face. “That way.”
I gesture to the corner he went through, and Topher nods. The fury pours off of him, his eyes flashing gold.
He’s furious for me. For Phoebe. For the battle we’re about to face.
