Chapter 25: Try Me

Zoey

“Leo,” I said softly, “why do you let him get to you like this?”

His head snapped up. “Who?”

“Ethan. You act like you don’t care, but every time he’s mentioned, you… change.”

He looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, I thought he might not say anything at all. Then, in a low voice, he finally spoke.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “You think you know what it’s like to grow up in someone’s shadow? To be the constant reminder of everything your parents wish they’d done differently?”

I stayed silent.

“I was never enough,” he continued. “Not for my father. Not for her.” He paused, his gaze drifting off. “Especially not for Ethan.”

A strange feeling gripped my chest. I wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. I had seen the way they interacted at work, two brothers pretending to get along while quietly tearing each other apart, and at the same time looking after each other.

Before I could respond, his phone rang. He glanced at it, frowned, and let it go to voicemail.

He walked over to the bar counter, poured himself another drink, and then looked back at me. “You still here?”

“I’m not leaving until you calm down,” I replied quietly.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that.”

He took a sip, leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed on me. “So, tell me, Zoey,” he said after a moment. “What do you tell Ethan about me?”

My mouth went dry. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

I hesitated. “Just… general updates. Work stuff.”

“Work stuff,” he repeated, smirking. “Does that include who I spend my nights with?”

I didn’t answer.

He set the glass down slowly, then walked back toward me, stopping just close enough for me to catch the weariness behind his sharp eyes. “You can tell Ethan whatever you want,” he said in a low almost grimacing voice. “But make sure to tell him this, if he sends you here again, he won’t like what comes next.”

There was no threat in his voice, just a deep exhaustion and something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He turned away, running a hand over his face. “Lock the door when you leave.”

I stood there for a moment, staring at his back. Then I quietly made my way to the door, my heart still racing. As I stepped outside, the cool, damp night air hit my face. I finally exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I had barely taken two steps forward when the sound of boots crunching on gravel hit my ears and made me freeze.

I turned to see Leo standing in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other casually holding his phone as if he’d just stepped out for a quick call. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and the night light cast sharp shadows across his face.

“It’s late,” he said. “Change of plans. You’re not leaving tonight.”

“I’ll manage.” My words came out sharper than I intended. “It’s just a twenty-minute drive.”

“Twenty minutes is long enough to get yourself killed.” His tone remained calm, but his eyes scanned the street as if he were already calculating every potential threat lurking there. “You’re staying.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I didn’t ask if you could,” he replied. “I said you’re staying.”

I felt this urge to confront him, to stride past and slam the gate behind me, but the calm authority in his voice held me in place. When Leo set his mind on something, the world around him usually fell in line.

He scanned my face for a while, as if searching for something, then sighed, took a step closer, and murmured, “Relax, Zoey. I’m not going to touch you. I already told you, I don’t sleep with the same woman twice.”

I hated that his words still had weight, tugging at a place I thought I’d already sealed shut, but I wouldn’t let him see that.

“Good,” I managed to say, though it came out barely above a whisper.

He offered a half-smile, the kind that never quite reached his eyes. “Don’t look so relieved. It bruises my ego.”

“I wasn’t relieved.”

“Sure.” His gaze flicked over my face, then landed on the duffel bag at my feet. “Come on. You can take the spare room.”

I followed him inside, mostly because I didn’t trust my legs to carry me anywhere else.  He opened a door at the end of the hallway. “In here.”

The room was tidy, white sheets, a single chair, and a small dresser. No warmth, no life. Just as I had expected.

“Thanks,” I said, already moving past him.

“Don’t thank me.” He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes glinting. “Just try not to redecorate while I’m asleep.”

“I’ll do my best.” I shut the door and turned the lock, listening to the soft click of metal.

A low chuckle came from the other side. “You think that lock would stop me if I wanted you?”

“Then maybe it’ll keep me from doing something foolish,” I shot back.

His laughter faded down the hall, leaving behind silence and the echo of my heartbeat.

I let out a shaky breath and stared at the bed. I didn’t need a shower, but I needed to feel like myself again. The water hit my skin, steam curling around me until I could almost breathe. I tilted my head back, letting it wash away the thoughts, his mouth, his voice, the look in his eyes when he told me I was just another night.

When I stepped outside, the mirror was all fogged up, but even through the haze, I could see the weariness in my eyes. I crawled into bed, every nerve ending buzzing with the awareness that he was just beyond that door. The man who had taken everything from me and then acted like it was no big deal.

I lay there for what felt like hours, my eyes wandering across the ceiling, my heart racing for no real reason. Every creak in the house sounded like his footsteps. At some point, I finally drifted off.