Page 29 of Cold as Stone
The two men make a hasty exit, the other customers doing the same. I call out a goodbye while locked in a staring contest with Lee and me.
“You’re being stubborn,” he says when the door closes behind on the final patron.
“And you’re being condescending.” I slam the bottle down harder than necessary. “Acting like I’m some helpless damsel who can’t make her own decisions.”
“I’m being realistic.” His voice rises. “Summit isn’t going to back off just because you told their suit to take a hike. They’ll find other ways to pressure you. Dangerous ways.”
“Let them try,” I snap back, refilling my glass with shaking hands. “I’m not selling, and I’m not running. I’m done running from this town and the people in it.”
“This isn’t about your pride, Kya!” He slams his palm on the bar top, making the glasses shake. “These people can hurt you. And now they’ve got their sights on you because we brought you into this!”
“I brought myself into this!” I shout back, temper fully ignited now. “I don’t need your permission, and I sure as hell don’t need your guilt!”
Lee runs both hands through his hair, his eyes wild. “Damn it, Kya, why can’t you just listen for once in your life?”
“Because that’s how I survived!” The words explode out of me. “That’s how I made it through growing up in this godforsaken town with a mother who couldn’t take care of herself, let alone me.”
His jaw clenches. “And how’s that working out for you? Standing alone against the world?”
The question hits too close to home, striking a nerve I didn’t realize was exposed. “Fuck you, Lee.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Shut me out. Push me away.” He stands abruptly, the stool scraping harshly against the floor. “God forbid anyone actually cares what happens to you.”
“If you cared you’d respect my decisions instead of trying to make them for me.”
“If you weren’t so goddamn stubborn, you’d see I’m trying to keep you alive!”
“I never asked you to!”
The words hang in the air between us, sharp and dangerous. Lee stares at me, his chest heaving, eyes blazing. For a moment, I think he might say something else—something he can’t take back—but then his expression shutters.
“Fine,” he says, his voice suddenly cold and distant. “You want to handle this alone? Have at it. I won’t waste my time trying to help someone who doesn’t want it.”
He turns and stalks toward the door, each step rigid with barely contained fury.
“Lee—” I start, already regretting how far this has escalated, but he cuts me off with a sharp gesture.
“Save it.” His hand is on the door. “You’ve made your position clear. I won’t bother you again.”
The door slams behind him with enough force to rattle the windows. I stand frozen, adrenaline still coursing through my system, hands gripping the edge of the bar so tightly my knuckles turn white.
The silence that follows is deafening.
“Shit,” I mutter, the anger draining out of me, leaving only a hollow ache in its place.
I shouldn’t have pushed him like that. I know he was just worried. But something about Lee Armstrong has always made me defensive, made me want to prove I’m strong enough on my own.
Even when I’m not sure I am.
I clean the glasses with more force than necessary, trying to ignore the way my throat tightens and my eyes burn. I don’t have time for this—for him, for these complicated feelings, for the tangle of emotions he stirs up.
My phone sits silent on the bar. No text this time.
And that hurts more than it should.
“Damn it,” I whisper, turning away from the empty bar and the echo of words I can’t take back. “Fucking men.”
I have a business to run, bills to pay, and Summit Development to deal with. I don’t have time for complicated feelings about Lee Armstrong.
