Page 14 of Mine to Keep

“Stay out of this, Katie Jane.” The disappointment in his gaze as he stares at me is unmistakable. I’ve known this man since college and he’s as stubborn as they come. Nothing we could say will change his mind, at least not tonight. Maybe not ever.

I turn to face Kate, her brilliant blue eyes now red and brimming with tears. “Honey, I?—”

“Shut up! Don’t you ever speak to her again.” Geoff’s finger jabs the space between us, a clear line drawn. “You’re dead to me, Tommy. And you’ll have nothing to do with my daughter.”

I look at my girl, each tear that rolls down her cheeks like a dagger to my heart. “I’ll find a way to fix this, Kate. I promise.” The words, however, feel like sandpaper on my tongue.

“Out. Now.” His order echoes with a note of finality that leaves no room for negotiation.

My arms demand to hold her, but I’m already stepping away, every muscle of my body screaming in protest. She’s right here next to me. At the same time, she feels like she’s miles away. Her fingers graze mine as we part, a fleeting touch before the chasm widens.

“Tommy, don’t leave me. Please.” Her chin quivers as she quietly begs me to stay. But I know if I don’t leave now, I’ll end up doing something stupid—like kicking my best friend’s ass, even though I have no right to do it.

After wrapping her in the blanket, I grab my discarded clothes from the floor and use them to shield my nakedness. The moment is awkward, but more than that, it’s sad. I’m backing away from the woman I’m falling in love with, because what choice do I have? This isn’t something that can be resolved tonight.

Geoff’s eyes burn into me, searing a mark of treachery onto my conscience. And Kate—my beautiful, vibrant Kate—stands half-hidden, half-exposed, caught in the crossfire of love and loyalty.

I climb the stairs two at a time, rushing to the guest room to gather my things. After haphazardly throwing everything into my suitcase, I close my eyes and silently say goodbye. The front door closes with a hushed thud like a barrier between me and the happy world I was just ejected from.

As I start the car, the hum of the engine is cold comfort compared to the warmth of Kate’s skin and the fire of her spirit. My grip on the steering wheel is tight and the leather creaks beneath my hands while I struggle to keep my emotions in check. I drive away, glancing at the rearview mirror reflecting the house that holds the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.It’s a dwindling image retreating into the distance while the road stretches before me, empty and bleak.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, knowing I have no one to blame but myself. The man I respected, admired, called my brother… now despises me. His trust in me is gone and our lifelong bond is shattered.

6

KATE

Isit on the edge of my bed with my eyes swollen from a downpour of tears. The shitshow of my dad catching me and Tommy naked in his living room will haunt me for the rest of my life. The cold prickle of shock and embarrassment hasn’t left my skin, and it blooms afresh with each pounding heartbeat.

Should I face my dad again? Try to explain the unexplainable?

I don’t know what to do, but the weight of his disappointment crushes me like a physical blow, and fear gnaws at my insides—fear of losing Tommy and fear that my dad will never accept us. My heart is splintered, shards of longing to stay and fight mingled with the strong impulse to flee.

My lungs feel heavy as I drag in a deep breath, my decision made. I rise to my feet, my movements robotic when I slip out of the room. Each step is laden with a myriad of emotions and turmoil, but I don’t look back. Not even to assess the damage, not when every inch of this place screams of our betrayal. My father is wrong. This is my fault as much as it is Tommy’s. Even so, I don’t regret the time I had with him.

The chill of the predawn air hits me as I step outside, and I shiver, though not from the cold. It’s the emptiness beside me, where Tommy should be, steadying me with a mere glance and an affectionate hand at my lower back. Now, there’s just the hollow echo of my footsteps on the driveway, a one-woman procession toward exile from her father’s home. Perhaps that’s a bit dramatic, but that sure is what it feels like as I slink out of the house before my dad can convince me otherwise.

At the airport, the waiting is a slow torture. I huddle in my seat, phone clutched like a lifeline in my hand as I stare at a glaringly bare screen. No messages, no calls. No sign that Tommy is even thinking of me, or missing me, or wanting to bridge the distance. Hope frays a little more with each passing second, unraveling into the void he left behind.

My thumb hovers, tempted to send yet another text, but I resist. Tommy Sinclair doesn’t chase; he’s pursued. He’s a billionaire, for heaven’s sake, and he’s used to beautiful women throwing themselves at him. And yet, I desperately want to believe thatI’vesomehow rattled him. That beneath his controlled, polished exterior, there’s a tumult raging as fierce as mine. The silence is deafening and relentless as each tick of the clock is a reminder of the widening gulf between us.

My seat belt clicks into place, trapping me in a plane soaring toward New York, a city that now feels colder and darker than it did before. The hum of the engines vibrates through my body, resonating with the storm swirling inside me. I close my eyes and sink into my seat as images of the last few days play on repeat in my head. His deep, warm laughter. Flirty glances and seductive touches. Explosive orgasms that made me shatter apart in his muscular arms. Tommy made me feel alive in ways I never knew I was craving.

Now, he’s gone, and I’ve never felt so lost.

“Would you care for a drink, ma’am?” The flight attendant’s question pulls me from my thoughts.

“Just water, please,” I mutter, barely able to hold back more tears.

The ride home is a jolt to reality, and the city lights twinkle mockingly as we cruise through the busy streets. They used to be stars beckoning me to new adventures; now they’re just distant, uncaring points of luminescence. I unlock my apartment door, and it creaks open to reveal the life I left behind, a life that feels hollow and less vibrant.

“Welcome home, Kate,” I whisper to myself, sarcasm lacing my tone.

I drop my bags at the door. My reflection in the hallway mirror is a ghost of the confident woman who once believed she could conquer anything, claim the world as her own alongside a man who could move the heavens with a nod of his head.

Collapsing fully dressed onto my bed with a heavy thud, I bury my face into the sheets. My lavender-scented laundry detergent fails to soothe me as the brand claims it should. It’s here, in the dark of my room while I stare at the ceiling, that the dam breaks again. Tears pour down my cheeks, hot and relentless, each sob a release of the weight I’ve carried from Chicago to New York—shame, disapproval, fear. And the ache for a man who hasn’t returned my calls or texts.

No, he never said he loved me, but surely, I didn’t mistake his feelings. Did I?

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