Page 32 of Crow's Haven
At breakfast, she doesn’t joke around with me like she usually does. No playful teasing about my burnt toast. No shared smiles over the boys’ antics. Instead, she keeps her head down, focused on serving the kids, cleaning up spilled milk, and packing lunches without missing a beat. She’s perfect, reliable, and completely unreachable.
Her behavior affects me. I feel as though I’ve lost something I didn’t even know I had.
By the time we’re getting ready to head out, my frustration is simmering. She kneels by the door, zipping up Chase’s jacket and adjusting Scout’s hat. She’s gentle, loving and present for my boys but not for me. She won’t look at me or stand close enough for accidental contact. Her keeping her space between us feels deliberate.
“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat. “We ready?”
She straightens, meeting my eyes briefly before glancing away again. “Yes.”
I try not to let my annoyance show as I head towards the truck. I’m taking the truck today because I have to pick up building supplies after I drop the boys off at school. I usher them into the two jump seats behind the front seat because they love those little seats. I take turns helping them buckle their safety belts. The boys wave goodbye to her, but I keep my eyes on the road, foolishly deciding to give her back the same energy she’s giving me this morning.
I shut the door a little harder than I mean to. As I start up the engine I glance sideways at her. She’s standing on the porch staring at us. Her expression is unreadable. I don’t get it. Yesterday, things felt righteous. Today, it feels like she’s built an invisible, impenetrable wall between us. My knuckles tightenaround the steering wheel. Something’s changed and I’m gonna have to figure out what it is.
***
Sharon picked the boys up from school. I worked late. Hanging sheetrock all day is a good way to work off some frustration. I make sure I’m home in time for dinner and the evening routine goes off without a hitch. The house finally falls silent around eight-thirty. After half an hour of bedtime stories both boys drift off. Their breathing evens out, soft and peaceful, and I slip out of the room, turning off the light behind me.
I stand in the hallway for a moment, leaning my shoulder against the wall and rubbing my temple. Tonight, the tension between Sharon and me has grown a little sharper with each passing hour. Dinner was filled with polite, surface-level conversation, and not a single moment of real connection. Every quiet look I shot her way went unanswered. I’ve had enough of whatever this is.
When I walk into the living room, she’s sitting curled up in the corner of the couch, a book resting unopened in her lap. Her eyes are distant and unfocused. She looks beautiful sitting there in the lamplight.
“Hey,” I say softly, as I drop down in my easy chair.
She glances up, startled, closing the book with a quiet snap. “Hey,” she says and shifts slightly, pulling herself straighter, already becoming more wary. “Are the boys finally down?”
“Yeah.” I take a breath. “Mind if we talk?”
She hesitates, and it’s enough to make me worry she might say no. But eventually, she nods, setting the book aside. “Okay, what’s up?”
I try to relax a bit, resting my elbows on my knees. I take a second to gather my thoughts and then get down to business. “I need to talk to you about something,” I say quietly, looking up into her eyes. “Did I do something wrong? Because you’ve been off all day, and if I fucked up somehow, I’d like to know. I’m not too good to admit when I’m wrong. You know that about me.”
Her eyes widen slightly at my bluntness, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she takes a slow, careful breath, clearly gathering her courage. “You didn’t exactly do anything wrong,” she begins softly, “but something happened yesterday at the clubhouse.”
My jaw tightens in confusion. “At the clubhouse?”
She nods, her lips pressed together. “Roxy talked to me.”
My stomach drops immediately. Shit, it didn’t take the club girls long to jump on my Ladybug.
“Whatever she said—” I start.
But she lifts a hand, cutting me off.
“Let me say this,” she says firmly. “I need to.”
I close my mouth, and nod for her to speak her mind. Giving her the floor is hard when all I wanna do is to explain, reassure, defend. Against what, I don’t know. But knowing those club girls it can’t have been good.
She looks away briefly, steeling herself, before her eyes return to mine. Her voice is firm and determined. “I know we haven’t defined anything here, Crow, but I need to be clear aboutsomething. We need to set some boundaries between the two of us. I thought we’d agreed to see where whatever it is between us is going. I’m willing to live in your home, keep your house, and look after your boys. That’s the job I signed up for after all. What I’m not willing to do is all that and edge into a relationship with you while you mess around with club girls on the side.”
“Look Sharon—” I start.
“No,” she interrupts gently, holding my gaze. “Please. Let me finish.”
I nod again, my jaw tight, “Go ahead.” The tension grows in my chest as she talks again.
“Roxy made it very clear how things work between the brothers and club girls,” she continues softly. “I don’t blame you or judge you for what you did before I came along. But I need to tell you that I won’t be a side piece while you hook up with Roxy or some other club girl. I won’t be a placeholder until something better comes along or until you get tired of playing house. That’s not something I would ever do.”
Her words feel like a gut punch. I can hear the raw emotions behind them. “That’s not what I want from you,” I say quietly, leaning forward, holding her gaze fiercely. “That’s not how I see our relationship.”
