And that…
That’s harder to fight than anything else.
“Why?” I ask, because I need something to hold onto that isn’t just instinct and the way he looks at me like he already made this decision for both of us.
“Because I’ve already decided I’m not letting anything touch her,” he says. “Or you.”
My breath catches, just for a second.
“That’s not your call.”
“Yes,” he argues. “it’s my responsibility now.”
The words hit deeper than they should.
Responsibility.
Not obligation.
Not duty.
Something chosen.
I look at him, really look this time, at the way he’s standing, the way his attention keeps shifting just enough to track everything around us without losing me. The way he hasn’t once stepped back from this even when it would’ve been easier to let me walk away.
“You don’t even know what this is yet,” I say.
“I know enough,” he answers. “And I know I’m not letting you face it alone.”
That word again. Alone.
The thing I’ve been doing for five years.
The thing I told myself was safer.
My chest tightens, something pulling in two directions at once.
None of it lines up clean anymore.
I glance down at Hadley again, at the way she’s now watching both of us. Sensing the shift even if she doesn’t understand the words behind it.
That’s what matters.
Her.
I look back at Jace, and for the first time since this started, I don’t argue.
I don’t push.
I don’t try to out-think him or outmaneuver the situation.
I just… pause.
And that pause says more than anything I’ve said out loud.
Because it means I’m not leaving.
And we both know it.
