Page 30 of Off-Limits

But then, slowly, Ryan's expression hardens again, his jaw clenching as he speaks through gritted teeth. "You've gone too far, Jake. You've gone way too fucking far."

And with that, he ends the call, leaving Jake and me staring at a blank screen in stunned silence.

???

As I wake up to the sun streaming through the guest room window, I'm instantly aware that something is off. Jake's side of the bed is empty, cool to the touch—he must have been gone for a while. My heart sinks as I realize he might be trying to do what he said last night; leave "for the sake of my family."

Fuck that, though. Him leaving would be much worse. I'm not letting him.

I rush to get dressed in yesterday's clothes, my mind racing with worry and anxiety. I don't want him to go—not like this, not without talking it through first. As I make my way downstairs, I hear the faint sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Jake's deep timbre is unmistakable, but there's also a higher-pitched voice that I can't quite place. It's not familiar enough for me to identify right away.

As I round the corner and step into the kitchen, my breath catches in my throat at the sight before me. Jake is standing with his back to the counter, arms crossed over his chest as he talks to a woman—one of our neighbors, Mrs. Patel, if I'm not mistaken. She's middle-aged, with warm brown skin and kind eyes that crinkle at the corners when she smiles. And right now, she's smiling at Jake like they're old friends.

What's going on here?

"Mia," Jake says, turning to face me as I enter. His expression is unreadable, but there's a stiffness in his shoulders that wasn't there yesterday. "You're up early."

"Jake," I say, ignoring the other woman for now. My voice trembles slightly with emotion and sleep-induced raspiness. "Can we talk?"

He hesitates for a moment before nodding and turning to Mrs. Patel. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. It seems Mia needs something from me. Would you mind excusing us?"

She waves him off, her smile growing wider if that's even possible. "Of course not," she says, giving Jake an appreciative once-over before turning her attention to me. Her eyes are shrewd as she takes in my disheveled appearance and the fact that I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes. She must think we had a wild night together, but little does she know...

As soon as Mrs. Patel leaves, closing the front door softly behind her, I turn back to Jake. "What are you doing?" I demand, crossing my arms over my chest in an echo of his defensive stance.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in that familiar gesture of frustration. "Mia, we can't do this," he says quietly. "Not after what happened with Ryan last night."

I don't understand him. He protected me, defended me. He argued with my brother because of our relationship. Why the sudden change of heart? Why think that we are in the wrong? We aren't.

My stomach churns just thinking about my brother, but I refuse to back down. "I know it was bad," I say, stepping closer to him. It got out of control, but it was something that just had to happen. "But running away isn't the answer and you know that."

He looks down at me, his eyes showing me that he's conflicted, but I still feel furious. There's no reason good enough he should be feeling that way. Not anymore. I thought we were over his guilt already.

"I'm not running away," he says sharply. "I just think it's best if I leave for a while and let things cool off between Ryan and I before we talk again." He pauses, then adds softly, "And give you some space to figure out what you really want."

What? This doesn't make any sense. He knows what I want—it's been pretty obvious for a while now. This is beyond absurd.

"What I want?" I repeat incredulously. "Jake, I know exactly what I want. And it's you."

I can't believe I had to say that.

He shakes his head, looking away from me as if he can't bear the sight of my face. "Mia, please don't make this harder than it already is."

He's the one making this hard for me. Can't he just make up his mind and stop caring about his friendship with my brother, which, by the way, probably doesn't even exist anymore? My brother is coming, and he wants his head.

Pushing that thought aside, I reach out, placing my hand on his arm to stop him from turning away any further. He flinches at the contact but doesn't pull back. Instead, he looks down at where my fingers are wrapped around his forearm, then up into my eyes.

"I'm not making this harder," I tell him firmly. "You are."

Meanwhile, I'm trying my best to hide my burning fury.

He raises an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his face. "Me?"

"Yes, you!" I say, feeling my frustration boil over into an even more menacing wave of anger. "You're the one who decided to leave without even talking to me about it first. You're the one who's willing to throw away what we have because of some misguided sense of honor or whatever." I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down before continuing. "Jake, I love you. And I know you love me too. So why are you doing this?"

He even said to my brother that he loves me. Maybe he thinks that some time away from each other will fix everything, but I know that it would only make things worse.

He looks at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he sighs and pulls away from my hand.

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