Page 46 of The Ache That Stayed

And then he touched her like it was nothing. Like she was just another woman. Like he didn’t understand she could ruin a man just by existing in the same room as him.

And I stood there. Watching another man exist too close to what my bones still recognised as home.

Not mine.

Never mine.

He touched her.

But the monster refused to learn the difference. The thought repeated behind my ribs like a gunshot.

He. Touched. Her.

Before I could stop myself, my feet were already moving in her direction. His hand rested on her shoulder like she was something to lean on. Like he had the fucking right.

I’ll give him something to lean on for the rest of his life.

As a pulse throbbed in my temple, I kept telling myself this was protection. This was duty.

Liar.

The voice said again.

Her presence was the only addiction I’d ever known.

And the worst part, she didn’t even know it.

I’d survived bullets, wars, betrayal. I’d walked away from worse, unscathed. But two years ago, walking away from her felt like cutting off a limb and pretending I didn’t need it.

My vision tunnelled till I could only see his hand. Touching her. When Marcello touched her, it hurt. But I endured it, because she chose him. That mattered.

This—this was different. This was worse. This was another man forgetting his place. Forgetting she wasn’t something casual. And I didn’t know why it burned, only that it did.

I pushed his hand off so hard his arm snapped back.

“Take your hand off her,” I nearly growled.

“Hey, man. I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” I spat.

“Are you insane?” she snapped back. “Can’t you behave like a normal human?”

“You can discuss without him touching you.” I looked at him with stern eyes. “Walk away.”

For a second, he stood there like it was déjà vu. Yes, motherfucker. It was me the other day too. He lifted his hands in a defensive manner and walked away.

She glared at me, eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Fixing a problem.”

“You are the problem.”

I let out a breath and spoke low. “If I was the problem, you wouldn’t react this much.”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, then turned away with a frustrated breath. My fingers wrapped around her wrist and I spun her around so fast I thought she might fall. She yanked her hand off mine and yelled.

“Don’t touch me. Asshole.”