Page 113 of Golden Ruin

She knows I saw them, knows I’m reeling.

“Listen, I–”

“We–”

We stop at the same time when our words run together. “You first,” I offer.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and her eyes drop low. “I was just going to say I know you think I’m leaving for the wrong reasons, but I meant what I said this morning. This is about Jax. Only about Jax.”

I hear her, but that’s bullshit. Yeah, she wants to protect our son, but she’s also trying to protect herself.

From me.

From who she thinks I am, what she still thinks I’m capable of.

Leaving, breaking her heart, failing her.

“I got approved,” she forces out, and I see her pulse racing at the hollow of her throat. “I should have my move-in date soon.”

And there it fucking is.

The words I planned to say to her are sucked right out of me as I take a step back. And the moment I feel myself doing it, I halt, recognizing the instinct to withdraw when I don’t know what else to do. But… shit.

“I… Wow.”

I’m silent after that, and I have no idea how much time has passed.

“Say something,” she says quietly, and I meet her gaze again.

“Congratulations.”

She sighs and folds both arms across her chest. “Sterling.”

She wants me to speak, and I have a lot to say, but it isn’t anything she’d want to hear. Because it would all be about her staying here.

With me.

Only now do I take in what she’s wearing, the makeup, the heels. My eyes slam shut, and I take another step back.

“You have plans,” I remember, and I’m honestly happy for the opportunity to end this, to take a breath and process how quickly things are unraveling.

“Wait,” she says softly. “You were right earlier. We should talk.”

I nod, but don’t speak. Can’t speak.

“Tomorrow?” she asks.

I’m zoned out when I nod again. “Sure. Tomorrow.”

I take another step back.

Then another.

When I can’t stand there anymore, I take slow steps toward my room and close the door.

I’m shocked but probably shouldn’t be. She told me this was coming, and I had plenty of time to prepare myself for it. Only, I chose hope instead. That’s what turning down Spain was all about. I had hope that choosing to be present would matter, but… now it feels like her mind’s already made up.

What has me reeling the most isn’t even that she’s planning to leave, it’s knowing I’m the one who fucked this up. The obstacle was never Matt, it was never Tiffany, and it isn’t even this new apartment.