“I saw how uncomfortable you were.” He curls his hands into fists on the quartz countertop. “I didn’t like that.” “It’s just jealousy.” I shrug, going for dismissive. “They want you.” “Doesn’t matter.” He picks up the knife and chops the stem off the broccoli. “I dragged you into this mess. They might not know that, but it doesn’t matter. They have no right to treat you the way they did.”
