Chapter 175 Don’t Come Looking for Me

Chapter 175 Don’t Come Looking for Me

The weariness in Allen's eyes softened the moment he saw Jocelyn, a quiet smile breaking through. "Lance is doing a lot better—he should be back next month. Mom's staying with him to finish up the last of his rehab, so I came back ahead of them to handle things at the company."

Jocelyn nodded and stepped aside. "Come in."

Allen walked into the living room, and Simon looked up from the couch with a grin. "Allen! You're back!"

"Missed you too much to stay away." Allen ruffled the boy's hair and let himself be dragged onto the couch.

Simon shoved a controller into his hands without ceremony.

Allen took it, though his gaze kept drifting across the room to where Jocelyn had settled into the armchair beside them, a mug of hot tea in hand for him on the coffee table.

Simon was thoroughly absorbed in the game. Allen, less so.

When the round ended, Jocelyn gave Simon's shoulder a light pat. "Hey—give us a few minutes, okay? Go ahead and keep playing."

Simon shrugged agreeably and turned back to the screen.

Jocelyn glanced at Allen, then rose and walked toward the balcony.

The night air hit her the moment she pushed the door open—cool and carrying the faint smell of rain.

She leaned against the railing and tilted her head toward him. "You've got something on your mind."

Allen was quiet for a beat. "I heard you put in your resignation."

"I did."

His voice came out a little flat. "You're sure about it?"

"Yes." She turned to face him fully, her expression calm. "I'm going to rebuild Ross Corporation. My parents built it from nothing. I can't just let it sit there."

Allen dropped his gaze to the city lights below. A long moment passed before he said, "Then I hope it goes well for you. I mean that."

"There's something else." The corner of her mouth curved slightly. "The Ross family estate has been fully renovated. Simon and I are moving back in a few days."

His brow furrowed. He took a half-step toward her, his voice gentling. "You don't have to—you're both welcome to stay as long as you want—"

"But it's home," she said simply, cutting him off without sharpness. "It's always been home."

He opened his mouth, then closed it. A rueful smile crossed his face as he nodded. "Alright. But if you need anything—anything at all—you call me."

She looked at him warmly. "Of course. We'll always be friends. That doesn't change."

Allen held her gaze for a long moment. Her smile was easy. Settled.

Friends.

That was all they would ever be, and they both knew it.

When Simon's bedtime rolled around, Allen had no reason to linger. Jocelyn walked him out.

They'd barely stepped into the hallway when the elevator doors slid open and Raymond stepped out.

The corridor went very still.

Raymond's dark eyes landed on Allen—on the fact that Allen was walking out of Jocelyn's apartment at this hour—and something shuttered behind his gaze.

Jocelyn registered his presence with a flicker of surprise, then smoothed her expression back to neutral. She didn't look at Raymond. Instead, she turned to Allen. "Drive safe."

Allen glanced between them, his brow tightening as his eyes returned to Jocelyn.

She gave him the smallest smile—I've got this—and that was enough.

He exhaled slowly, nodded, and started toward the elevator.

But he stopped when he drew level with Raymond.

Half a step between them.

Raymond looked down at him, his gaze flat and cold.

Allen met it without flinching. When he spoke, his voice was low and even. "It's pretty late to be showing up at someone's door, Mr. Murphy. Don't you think?"

Raymond's mouth curved—not warmly. "And what exactly is your stake in that, Mr. Lopez?"

"My stake doesn't matter." Allen held his ground. "What matters is whether you know what you are to her. Because from where I'm standing, it doesn't look like you do."

Raymond made a quiet, dismissive sound.

He hadn't known Allen was back in the country. He certainly hadn't expected to find him here, walking out of Jocelyn's apartment like he belonged there.

What had they been talking about? For how long?

The irritation crawling under his skin sharpened into something darker.

"Quite the devoted friend," Raymond said, his tone edged. "Doesn't Lopez Corporation keep you busy enough that you're not camped out in people's apartments at midnight?"

Allen didn't take the bait. "That's really none of your business," he said evenly. "What Jocelyn and I talk about, and when—that's between us."

Raymond's jaw tightened. "You two seem very close."

That drew a short, humorless laugh from Allen. "We always have been." He looked up then, his gaze direct and deliberate. "Unlike some people who spent years married to her and still treated her like a stranger."

The words landed quietly.

Raymond felt them anyway.

Jocelyn watched the two of them from the doorway, the faintest exasperation crossing her face.

Allen caught it. His posture eased, and when he looked at her, his voice lost its edge entirely. "I'll head out. Call me if you need anything—I'll come."

"I will," she said.

He gave Raymond one last, measured look, then walked to the elevator without another word.

She'd asked him to go. So he'd go. He'd already let her down enough times in ways that still sat heavy. He wasn't about to make it worse by picking a fight she hadn't asked him to fight.

The hallway fell quiet.

Jocelyn looked at Raymond. He hadn't moved.

She frowned. "If there's nothing urgent, go home."

She turned back toward her door.

"You resigned." His voice stopped her.

She glanced back, one brow lifting. "Keeping tabs on me?"

His expression tightened. "I've sent you a dozen messages over the last two days. You haven't replied to a single one."

That almost made her laugh. "And why exactly would I?"

"I went to Lopez Corporation looking for you."

She straightened, her gaze cooling. "Then whatever it is, take it up with the appropriate department. If it's business, you don't need me."

He didn't answer.

He just looked at her—really looked—his eyes fixed on hers with an intensity that made the air between them feel heavier.

"You're avoiding me," he said finally.

She tilted her chin up, her expression clear and unbothered. "Am I?"

"You're not returning my messages."

A soft, dry laugh. "I don't owe you a response, Raymond. I don't report to you."

He stepped forward. Then again.

The distance between them shrank until she could feel the warmth coming off him, could see the tension working through his jaw.

"Then tell me what you want," she said, her voice even as she took two quiet steps back, reestablishing the space he'd closed. "Because I'm not going to stand here all night."