Page 76 of Fault Line

But as soon as I walk through the front door, she throws herself at me, her lips already searching for mine. She said earlier that she needs me, not just as a distraction but maybe as something more. And God, do I want to be that guy for her.

So I slow her down with a soft kiss, sweeping my hand into her hair before holding her at arm’s length. “Whoa there, tiger,” I tease with a grin. “As much as I like kissing you, we should probably talk first.”

“So, no sex, then?” she asks, the mischievous glint in her eyes making me laugh. “I could just go down on you if you wanted?”

“Not right now.” I shake my head with a groan, silently cursing myself before guiding her over to the couch. Yeah, of course I want to fuck her, but I’m trying to prove that I have more to offer here. “I want to figure out what’s going on inside that big brain of yours.”

She gives me a tiny smile. “Yeah, okay. Let’stalk,then.”

We sit side by side, and I take notice of her warmth, her sweet smell, the softness of her skin as I wrap an arm around her. She snuggles closer, seeking comfort and reassurance in my embrace. The silence between us is comfortable, filled with the sound of her breathing and the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.

It’s nice to be here with her like this—no pressure, no expectations.

I take a quick glance around the apartment before I ask, “Where’s Lizzie tonight?”

“Honestly, I’ve barely seen her these last few weeks.” She glances down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. “She’s started hanging out with the football guys. And since then, she’s been completely MIA.”

My brow lifts. “Poor Rai Rai.”

“Yeah, did he really like her, then?”

“I think so, but I’m sure he’ll get over it. He’s not too short on options himself.”

It’s true. Rai’s always been popular with women. It’s his ability to instantly joke around, to actually listen, and to make people feel comfortable in his presence. He’s a giant goofball, sure, but he’s also one of the best guys I know.

“That’s good.”

There’s a moment of silence between us before I cut to the chase. “So, you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Everything, I think.” She sinks against me. “I finally agreed to let Sof visit this weekend, and she wants to meet you. She’s bringing her new boyfriend along, too. Some lawyer dude. And honestly, I know it sounds silly, but she drives me up a fucking wall every time we talk. I know I just need to tune her out, but being around her makes me feel itchy and nervous and ... basically ready to erupt at any second.”

I take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over the back of it. “Have you guys always had a shitty relationship?”

“Yeah, it started when I was really young. She’s five years older than me, so I think by the time I came along, she was just used to being the only child.”

“Ah, I can relate to that a little bit. My younger brother’s a menace.”

“See, but I was never like that.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “She insisted that I was a spoiled fucking brat all my life. I’m nearly one hundred percent sure that I was the product of an accident, and my parents have never treated me quite the same as they do her. It’s basically like I’m second-best at everything. Like they threw all of their attention and love at Sofia and didn’t have any left to spare me.”

Damn. The thought of that hits me hard—the idea of Kaia growing up with the belief that her parents didn’t care about her. It’s both infuriating and heartbreaking.

“That sounds really tough.”

“It was, but I’ve learned to compartmentalize over the years. Sof is really close with them still, and she’s always pressuring me to make amends. But she doesn’t get it because she hasn’t been treated the way I have.” Her gaze drifts down, the flecks of gold in her eyes muted and dull. “She thinks I’m being overdramatic.”

“I can tell that you’re not. And you know, just because someone’s your blood, your family, it doesn’t automatically mean you have to put up with them.”

She glances up at me, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. “You put up with your parents’ bullshit, though.”

“Hardly.” I let out a rueful chuckle. “I do the bare minimum just to keep my dad happy, and my mom’s a good person anyway. She’s always been really loving. I just hate what they’ve done to each other.”

“I mean, your dad’s actions also affect you.” She reaches up, affectionately pushing my hair back, fingertips caressing the side of my face. “You’ve had to grow up around this really shitty example of love.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I swallow, thick and heavy. “I mean, I get why she stays. She doesn’t want to give up the comfort of the life she has, and she’s shackled by this false image they project.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Like, they have to be picture-fucking-perfect all the time. My dad wants people to think that Becker and Slate is this little homegrown law firm. A generational, family-run establishment with traditional values,” I say in a mocking voice. “My mom plays right into it. She makes herself small so that he can look bigger in front of all of his clients and colleagues. I hate it.”

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