It all scared him.
Because for the first time in his life, he couldn't predict his next move. Couldn't explain the heat in his chest. Couldn't understand why his hands shook the day he almost lost her.
And that terrified him more than any gun or betrayal ever could.
He clenched the glass in his hand, the pressure threatening to crack it.
He shouldn't fall again.
He couldn't fall again.
He had barely survived the first time—the betrayal, the disgust of realizing he had been used. And now, with Bella, these unfamiliar feelings were crawling into him like wildfire.
They weren't logical.
They weren't useful.
And he hated how out of control they made him feel.
This was exactly why he had drawn the line so sharply.
He couldn't let her become his weakness.
***
Bella sat at the breakfast table with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes quietly drifting toward the empty chair across from her.
He didn't come down again.
