Queenie''s thoughts were her own business-Elodie had no desire to waste words on her. After all, she was the one whose night had been upended. Her expression was cold, her tone holding only the barest trace of politeness. "You know perfectly well what happened. Don''t me others just to shirk responsibility. I wish you two all the happiness in the world, but whether you have business here or not, don''t show up again and make a nuisance of yourselves."


    That was as good as mming the door in their faces.


    The whole night was a mess of noise and tension.


    Ivan was well and truly drunk.


    His mind clouded with alcohol, yet his eyes never left Elodie. No matter how many times Queenie called his name, he sat there, eyes bloodshot, silent and stubborn. Who he was really fighting with Queenie or himself was anyone''s guess.


    Elodie didn''t spare either of them another nce. After her parting words, she turned instead to Jarrod, who''d been quietly standing by her side the whole time. As she spun around, Jarrod lowered his gaze, fixing his eyes on her face. The warm light above reflected in his eyes, but he said nothing.


    Elodie hesitated for a moment, then reached out and caught the sleeve of his coat. "Come inside."


    At the very least, in front of Ivan, she and Jarrod had to look the part. Whether it was to keep up appearances or to help Ivan see the truth and finally let go, it hardly mattered.


    The door closed behind them.


    The entryway was a bit small, the air thick with the scent of the two of them- familiar, close, a little tense.


    Without ncing at Jarrod, Elodie walked further inside.


    "Have a seat."


    Only then did Jarrod move, his long legs carrying him unhurriedly into the living room. Elodie''s home was a picture of quiet, thoughtfulfort. The curtains were a soft yellow with a sheer white ovey, the table and chairs made of warm walnut wood. Delicate coasters sat on the table, a creamy rug stretched in front of the sofa, and a vase of fresh lilies stood on the coffee table. Every detail spoke of a life well cared for.


    Of someone who knew how to look after herself.


    Jarrod took it all in, then watched as Elodie rummaged through a vintage cab in the corner.


    For a moment, he let his lips curve in a faint, almost imperceptible smile.


    At least she hadn''t let herself suffer.


    Elodie returned with a well-stocked first aid kit. She nced at Jarrod, still standing there. "Sit down."


    Jarrod finally lowered himself onto the sofa. Elodie bent down and started taking out bandages and antiseptic. "Can I ask why are you here tonight?"


    As she spoke, her eyesnded on the raw scrape across his knuckles, her brow furrowing. "Let me see your hand."


    Jarrod looked down, then ced his hand in hers. "If I hadn''t been here, what would you have done tonight?"


    Elodie dabbed antiseptic on a cotton pad, ncing up at him as she worked, her touch careful and precise. "He wouldn''t have really lost control."


    She knew Ivan. Even if she wasn''t as strong as him, if she truly cut ties, he couldn''t bring himself to hurt her.


    "You really trust him, don''t you?" Jarrod''s eyes lifted, his tone light, almost mocking.


    "Are you upset with me for something?" Elodie frowned. There was something in his voice-something sharp, though he tried to hide it.


    "No. It just hurts." He nced at the gash on his hand from the broken bottle, his face giving nothing away, the word ''hurt'' sounding almost like ajoke.


    Elodie found herself at a loss for words. He was injured tonight, after all, and if she was honest, it was partly her fault. That was why she''d invited him in to patch him up-she wasn''t heartless.


    "Sorry... and thank you." She fell silent, focusing on tending his wound, not daring


    to check his expression.


    "What are you apologizing for? I''m the one who started the fight with him-what could you possibly be sorry about?” Jarrod looked up at her from where he sat, his gaze steady. "And what''s with the thank you? People don''t offer kindness just to hear you say thanks. If you keep score so precisely, it''s pointless. Sometimes, you''re simply worth it. It''s really that simple.”