Page 84 of Checks & Bonds

I pushed off from the door and got back inside, slamming the door behind me. Inheritance be damned; this mess needed sorting out, and it wasn't going to happen if we kept tearing each other apart.

My mind replayed our argument, her words echoing in my head. Why was she so worried about messing everything up? It didn't make sense. Shouldn't my assurance that I'd still marry her have relieved her? Instead, it seemed to hurt her more.

I shook my head, frustration boiling over as I slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The purr of the car did little to soothe my nerves. The drive back home was a blur of streetlights and shadows, my thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and guilt.

When I finally pulled into the driveway, the house loomed in front of me, imposing and empty. I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at the facade that had once felt like a fortress. Now, it was just walls and windows—cold, lifeless.

Freya's absence hung heavy in the air as I walked through the front door. The silence was deafening. Every room I passed felt wrong without her presence, like an incomplete puzzle missing its final piece.

I wandered into the living room and sank onto the couch, running a hand through my hair. Her laugh had once filled this space; now it was just an echo in my memory. The tension between us had been palpable from the start, but there were moments—brief flashes—when we connected. When she cleaned my knuckles after I beat Jensen up, I saw a flicker of something genuine in her eyes.

And last night, when she had crawled on top of me…

My cock twitched at the thought of being inside of her.

I had never let anyone command me like that before.

But why did she look so hurt when I said I'd still marry her? That question gnawed at me. She should have been relieved, shouldn't she? Yet there was pain in her eyes, a deep-seated hurt that cut deeper than any words could.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of our interactions. The pictures had been a blow to both of us, but there was something more to her reaction—something I couldn't quite grasp.

The house felt foreign now, a hollow shell without Freya's presence. I needed answers, but they seemed just out of reach, slipping through my fingers like sand.

For now, all I could do was sit here in this empty house and wonder where everything went so wrong.

I heard something in the kitchen. The soft clatter of dishes broke the oppressive silence that had settled over the house. I sat up, my body tensing. It was too early for Carmen to be here.

"Carmen?" I called, my voice echoing off the walls. I stood up, heading toward the kitchen. "You don't work Sat?—"

I cut myself off as I stepped through the doorway and saw her. It wasn't Carmen standing there. It was Minka.

Minka stood by the counter, her back to me as she rinsed a glass under the tap. She had that same ethereal presence she always had. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back in softwaves, catching the light just so. Her frame was petite but there was a quiet strength in her posture.

"Minka," I said, trying to mask my surprise.

She turned, her eyes—deep blue like mine—met mine with a calm intensity. "Henry," she greeted, her voice steady but tinged with concern.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"I saw what happened," she said simply, setting the glass on the counter and drying her hands with a towel. "I thought you might need some company."

I frowned. "I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at her lips. "Sure you are."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Minka's presence always had a way of cutting through my defenses, and I wasn’t in the mood for it today.

"How's Freya?" she asked, genuine concern lacing her voice.

I glared at her, the anger still simmering beneath my skin.

"That bad, huh?" she continued, unfazed. "Please tell me you didn't blame her?—"

"Of course I didn't," I snapped, pushing off the doorframe and moving into the kitchen.

"Because this has Richard written all over it," Minka said, following me.

"I know?—"

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