Page 192 of Show Me

“You left work.”

“Yes, I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You left my house.”

A flicker crosses her face at that. Not guilt. Just exhaustion. “I figured that part was obvious.”

My jaw tightens. “You came back here alone?”

Her brows pull together, like she forgot why that matters. Then her gaze flicks briefly toward the once broken window. The one I fixed. Something in her expression dims further. “I locked the doors.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I have cameras.”

“Two of which got busted.”

She closes her eyes briefly, as if the reminder physically hurts. And it hits me all at once. The stalker. The break-in. The notes. The lack of sleep. Stress. Exhaustion. Me. She looks exhausted all the way through. Not scared anymore. Just depleted. And it’s all my fault.

“I’ll say with you.” I’ve got to fix this. Any way I can. It’s not safe for her to be alone. Anxiety claws along my spine.

Ruby exhales. “I can’t do this anymore, Xavier.”

The words land like a punch to the chest, sucking the air out of my lungs. This isn’t about me staying here. It’s about us. “This doesn’t have to end.”

Her expression softens. Not hopeful. Just sad. “Why not?”

Because I don’t want it to. Because the thought of her pulling away feels like somebody tightening a fist around my ribs, cracking them one at a time. Because everything feels wrong without her.

But the words jam somewhere in my throat before they can make it out.

Ruby watches me struggle for an answer. And I see the moment something settles inside her. Not anger. Acceptance.

She straightens her shoulders. “We both knew what this was.”

“That’s not….” I shake my head. She has to know that my past means nothing. Lindsey meant nothing. She never did. For fuck’s sake, that was over two years ago. “The thing with Lindsey isn’t important.”

“I know. You said you don’t do relationships.”

“That was before.”

“Was it?” Her voice stays calm. Gentle even. Which makes this worse. “You said no pressure. No expectations.”

I rub a hand over my jaw. “Ruby–”

“And honestly? I think I reached a point where pretending those things didn’t matter hurt more than admitting they did.” She looks away briefly, toward the dark kitchen window. “I can’t keep fighting someone outside my house and….” She trails off before shaking her head. “I can’t do it anymore.”

The words hollow something out inside my chest. Because she’s right. This isn’t about Lindsey. This is about everything piling on top of her at once until she hit her limit.

I step closer. “You shouldn’t be here alone tonight.”

A faint, tired smile touches her mouth. “There it is.”

“What?”

“That protective thing you do.”

“Ruby, I’m serious.”