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My stomach cramped. I wish Scarlett were here. She’d gone through a similar crisis when the media found out about her and Asher, and she’d survived that firestorm intact. But she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night, and I didn’t want to rain on her parade. She and Asher were flying high right now. I refused to bog them down with my problems.

I pushed off the door and made my way deeper into the house. I was about to head upstairs when Noah exited the home gym.

We stopped short of each other, our bodies close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off him. He wore a Team USA T-shirt and shorts, and my stupid heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Despite my frustration over his recent behavior, I still wanted to wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest. No matter how complicated things were, he was the only person I wanted to turn to when everything else was falling apart.

Noah’s face softened slightly. “Hey,” he said. “How did your interview go?”

He’d remembered. I hadn’t been sure he’d even been listening when I’d told him about it last week.

My heart twisted at the realization. The Noah I lo—I cared about was still there. He was just hidden beneath layers of defensive armor.

“The interview was fine. But…” I hesitated, debating whether to tell him about Jack. If I didn’t, he’d find out anyway. There was no use keeping it from him.

I gave him a quick rundown of what happened. I tried to downplay its severity, but Noah’s expression darkened with every word.

“I’m going to kill him,” he said when I finished. Barely restrained fury simmered beneath his voice. “He crossed a fucking line. After I’m done with him, he’ll be lucky if he gets a job writing pet obituaries in a neighborhood newsletter.”

“Don’t,” I said, suddenly exhausted. It’d been a long day, and the last thing I wanted was to cause another escalation in the war between Noah and the media. “You can’t stop the press from doing what they do. If you try, you’ll just add fuel to the fire.”

His nostrils flared, but after a long moment, he let out a slow exhale. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Carina. I know how much this interview meant to you.”

“It’s fine.” I shrugged, attempting a smile. “It’s one interview. There’ll be plenty more in the future.”

Though maybe not after my potential employers saw me threaten to destroy a man’s ability to procreate and knee him in the balls on camera, no matter how well-deserved. I kept that part to myself.

Noah’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “This is my fault.”

“Stop. You weren’t the one who followed me to the interview or harassed me in public. You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“I can when I’m the reason they followed you in the first place.”

Something inside me snapped. I wanted to comfort him, but I also couldn’t take the constant guilt anymore. “Can you stop wallowing in self-pity and listen to me for once? I know you’re hurting, but acting like a martyr isn’t helping anyone.”

He stilled, his expression turning to granite. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve been moping around the house and shutting everyone out since we got back from South Africa. I get that you’re in an awful situation. I do. I can’t imagine dealing with a fraction of what you’re dealing with right now. But hiding in your room and beating yourself up about every little thing isn’t going to get you anywhere. You’re so determined to take on the weight of the world that you’ve forgotten you’re not the only person living in it.” My patience had reached its limit, and all of the frustration I’d been holding back came gushing out.

“Forgotten I’m not the only person living in it?” Noah barked out a laugh, the sound painted with disbelief. “I haven’t forgotten anything. It would be easier if I were the only one who had to deal with the fallout. All I’ve been doing is trying to protect the people in my life, Carina. You think I want to go to these mediation sessions so the Andersons can tear apart every decision I’ve made as a father? You think I want to spend fucking days, weeks, figuring out how to prove to everyone that I’m not the villain they make me out to be? You think I want to be sitting here nursing an injury while I’m dealing with this shit?” He gestured toward his shoulder. “I don’t, but I have no choice. So don’t stand there and try to make me feel bad for how I feel.”

A headache bloomed behind my eyes. I was so exasperated I could scream. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you meant.”

“I meant that you’re acting like you don’t have a support system. Like you can’t talk about what you’re going through with anybody. I’m right here, Noah! Let me in instead of running away every time you get uncomfortable.”

“I do talk to you.”

“No, you don’t!” My voice rose. “That’s always been your problem. You don’t communicate. This is supposed to be a partnership. Act like it.”

“No, this is a trial period.”

The words knocked the air right out of my lungs. I was so stunned that for a moment, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe.

Noah’s eyes widened with instant regret. He reached for me, but I regained control of my muscles and stepped back, unable to hide the visceral hurt spreading through me. His fingers curled briefly around empty air before his arm dropped to his side.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said, his voice low.

“You did, or you wouldn’t have said it.”