The knock comes barely an hour after Julian convinces me to let him stay.
I’m in my bedroom, trying—and failing—to calm my thoughts when the sharp, urgent pounding echoes through the apartment. Not a polite neighborly knock. Not a delivery.
Someone is insisting.
I freeze.
Julian is already halfway down the hall before I step out of my room.
“Who is that?” I ask, but my voice is barely audible.
He doesn’t answer. His shoulders are tense, posture rigid, as he looks through the peephole—then curses under his breath.
“What?” I press. “Who—”
But he’s already unlocking the door.
The moment it swings open, Ethan Rhodes stands on the other side, chest heaving like he sprinted up every floor. His hair is a mess, his coat half buttoned, concern written so clearly on his face it hits me like a slap.
“Sloan.” He says my name like it’s the only thing he came here for. “Are you okay? Richard told me you hadn’t come in. And you didn’t answer my messages—”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, stepping toward him.
But I only get one step before Julian shifts subtly into my path.
He doesn’t touch me.
He just blocks.
Possessive. Instinctive. And absolutely intentional.
Ethan’s eyes flick to him immediately, narrowing. “Can you move?”
“No,” Julian says calmly, though his jaw is tight. “She doesn’t need you barging into her home.”
“I knocked,” Ethan snaps.
“And you pounded like the building was on fire.”
“Because I was worried about her.”
They stare at each other, a crackling, electric hostility filling the hallway. The tension is thick enough to choke on.
“Both of you—stop,” I say, trying to step out from behind Julian, but he shifts again, subtle as a shadow.
“Sloan,” Ethan calls gently, eyes meeting mine over Julian’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look… I don’t know. Off.”
Julian bristles—actually bristles.
“She said she’s fine,” he says sharply. “You can go now.”
“No,” Ethan fires back. “Not until I know she’s actually safe.”
The hallway goes dead quiet.
Julian laughs once—dark, humorless. “Safe? With me?”
“You said it,” Ethan replies.
I suck in a breath.
This is spiraling so fast I feel dizzy.
“Ethan, please—” I try again, reaching for him, but Julian steps half a foot back, blocking the doorway with his broad frame.
“You don’t get to question me in her home,” Julian tells him, voice low and dangerous.
“Then move so I can talk to her,” Ethan says.
“No.”
The word is final. Cold.
And that’s when Ethan takes one step forward.
Not to fight.
Not to threaten.
Just to see me.
I feel the shift in Julian instantly. His entire body goes rigid, and the quiet, controlled anger he carries like a second skin starts leaking through the cracks.
“Julian,” I whisper urgently. “Stop.”
He doesn’t look at me. Not yet.
But Ethan does.
His expression softens immediately. “Sloan, look at me. If you want me to leave, I’ll go. Just say it.”
And for a moment—a sharp, painful moment—I want to.
I want to choose the easy warmth in Ethan’s eyes, the concern without strings, the presence that feels like safety instead of battle.
But the words won’t come out.
And the silence…
the silence answers for me.
Julian finally turns his head toward me, eyes dark, unreadable—but gleaming with something almost victorious.
Ethan sees it too.
“I get it,” he whispers, voice cracking just enough to hurt. “You’re choosing him.”
“No—Ethan, that’s not—” I reach for him, but he steps back this time.
“It’s okay,” he lies, swallowing hard. “Just… call me if you need anything. Anything, Sloan.”
He gives Julian one last cold, disappointed look, then walks down the hall without another word.
I feel the loss in my chest like a door slamming shut.
The moment he’s gone, Julian closes our door with an exhale that sounds too much like relief.
He turns to me slowly, eyes searching mine.
“You let him care too much,” he murmurs.
“And you don’t let me breathe,” I whisper back.
He steps closer.
Too close.
“And yet,” he says softly, “I’m still the one you let stay.”
The truth of it hangs heavy between us, edging into something dangerous.
Something I’m not ready to confront.