Page 91 of By Your Side
“I let you have one swing, Eli. Just one,” I said, voice low, dangerous. “Come at me again, I’ll put you down and you won’t get back up.”
He spat blood onto the lawn, glaring past me at Paige. “You’ll regret this—both of you. Don’t think this is over. The kids, the bar—it’s all mine.”
Paige’s voice shook, but it carried. “The kids don’t want to see you, Eli. And the bar? You never lifted a finger to build it. It’s mine and it always was. You don’t get to take credit for something I bled for. You got two of our businesses out of the divorce. It’s your own fault you’re running them into the ground. Not mine.”
For once, he had no comeback. Just a furious sneer as he yanked his truck door open, slammed it shut, and tore away, tires screaming against the street. The silence afterward was heavy, broken only by the pounding of my pulse.
I turned to Paige. She was trembling and pale, her eyes wide but steady. I climbed the steps and pulled her into me, cupping the back of her head. My jaw throbbed where his fist had landed, but the only thing I cared about was the way she trembled against me.
“He’s done,” I told her, voice rough. “He doesn’t get to hurt you, doesn’t get to touch what’s yours. Not while I’m breathing.”
She pressed her face into my chest, tears hot against my skin, and I held her tighter, swearing to myself I’d never let Eli lay another claim to her life.
My jaw ached where he’d landed that first wild swing, but I hardly noticed it. All I could think about was Paige—shaking in my arms, her breath uneven against my chest.
“Come on,” I murmured, brushing a hand over her hair. “Let’s go inside.”
She nodded, and we slipped back into the house, shutting the door on the silence outside. The living room felt warmer, safer, the sunlight pooling across the worn rug. She pulled her phone from her pocket with trembling fingers and typed fast.
“I need to tell Ren,” she whispered. “He has to know before Eli tries something else.”
I nodded. She hit "send," then set the phone face down on the table as if it had burned her.
For a moment, she stood there, arms wrapped tight around herself, staring at nothing. I stepped closer, resting my hands gently on her arms, grounding her.
“You okay?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
Her chin wobbled. “No. I mean, yes. I don’t know.”
She hesitated, then slipped away from my side, heading for the kitchen. I listened to the clink of ice cubes as she rummaged in the freezer, her movements determined but shaky. In a minute, she came back, pressing a folded dish towel with ice gently to my aching jaw.
"You shouldn't have had to do that," she said, her voice thick. "Thank you." She fussed over the swelling, worry etched across her face as she searched my eyes for pain. "Are you sure you're okay?"
I nodded, catching her hand and squeezing it. She hovered, unwilling to leave my side, her gratitude and concern radiating between us like warmth.
I guided her to the couch, pulling her down beside me. She folded in, curling toward me until her forehead pressed against my shoulder. My arm wrapped around her automatically, holding her close.
“I hate that he still has this power to shake me,” she said, her voice muffled. “After everything he’s done. After the lies and the cheating, after all this time. I should be stronger.”
“You are strong,” I said firmly. “But he was part of your life for a long time. That doesn’t just disappear overnight. He knows how to hit you where it hurts. Time will make that go away.”
Her breath caught, and she tipped her face up, eyes glassy. “When he said you’d wanted me since high school—I couldn’t stop thinking. Maybe if we’d tried back then, things would be different now. But I was a mess as a kid. I’d lost my dad. And you…”
“I had lost my mom,” I finished quietly.
She nodded. “And we were best friends. How could we risk losing each other?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard, running a hand down her arm. “After she died, I didn’t let myself want anything too much. I never let myself get too close to anyone after that. Because if I did, it could be taken away, and the thought of losing you was unbearable.”
Her fingers brushed over my jaw where Eli’s fist had landed. Gentle. Shaking. “That’s how I felt after my dad. Like if I wanted something—someone—it would just get ripped away. It was safer to choose someone who wasn’t…”
“Me,” I said, not bitter, just honest.
Her lips pressed together, and her eyes shimmered. “I was wrong.”
I cupped her face in my hands, holding her steady, making sure she saw me. “Paige, I’ve been afraid, too. But I’d rather face every fear I’ve ever had than spend another year pretending I don’t want you.”
Tears spilled over, and she leaned into my hands, her breath warm against my palms. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she whispered.
