Her jaw tensed. "I just thought it'd be easier this way."
Easier.
Right.
I put my coffee down and get up. I walk down the hall, holding my side with one hand. The pain's sharp today, but I ignore it. Somewhere in the house I hear her laughing with Nina, and I get more upset than I should.
She can laugh with Nina but can't even look me in the eye?
I take a seat in a chair and grab my iPad. A text pops up. It's Shane.
I'm having him look into a few leads we got about this Phantom King, but I'm not in the mood to deal with that shit right now, so I ignore it. I'm too tangled in my own head to care about business. My father would be ashamed. Callum would be disappointed. But fuck them both. Let someone else handle the family drama for once.
I'm alone for about twenty minutes when I hear footsteps. I look up, hoping it's her, and to my surprise she turns the corner, sees me, and doesn't back away.
"Hey," I say, voice low.
I nod, acting upset, but hoping she'll stay. Maybe talk. Maybe apologize for that shit she said the other day.
"I was thinking," she starts, keeping her eyes on the ground, "we should probably try to settle into a routine again. I saw there's a tournament coming up. Are you planning to have your fighters compete?"
"I wasn't planning to," I say, shifting in my chair. "But if you're asking, maybe I will."
She nods, not looking at me. "I'll make sure the medical kits are ready, just in case."
She goes to turn and then stops.
"I've also been thinking. I might look for a new apartment," she pauses. "In a better part of town. Thanks to you, I can afford something nicer."
It feels like a slap I saw coming too late to block.
"I see," I say. "If you need the money, I can…" I trail off and clear my throat. "I'll make sure there's work for you."
Even now, I stop myself, trying to cater to her needs, her wishes, when I feel like she's stepping all over mine.
Lyra doesn't look at me when she walks away. And I don't stop her.
She acts like I'm just a phase she's already moved past.
Like we were some fever dream she's finally sweat out.
I shake my head.
I wasn't going to have my team in this tournament, but now they need to be. I send a message to my new trainer, letting him know.
I laugh as I hit send. I'm doing this just so I can pay a woman who won't even give me the time of day right now.
I get up, wanting to leave the room that now smells like her.
I make my way to my office, each step reminding me that I'm not healed and that it's not the physical pain that's driving me crazy.
I drop on my couch in my office, wincing as the movement pulls at my stitches. My phone pings with an incoming FaceTime. It's Keira.
I grab my laptop on the table and open it.
A few seconds later, her face fills the screen. Her hair is pulled back, makeup halfway done.
"You look like shit," she says, greeting me.
