Stay Away from Him

Marcus' POV

Thunder cracked out of nowhere. One second, sunlight. The next—this.

Fuck.

Even nature was acting up, forcing the drive home to become anything but comfortable.

Every red light stretched forever. My hands shook on the wheel, replaying Jake’s thumb on my wrist, Ethan’s mouth on Emily’s, the half-open curtain and that thick outline burned into my brain.

I needed to get to Mom before the rain hit harder. She hated missing her evening meds… said it made her feel like the illness was winning.

I wasn’t about to let that happen.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, fat drops were already smacking the windshield. I sprinted inside, shoes squeaking on the marble.

Up the stairs. Down the hall. I paused outside her door, smoothed my shirt and ran fingers through my damp hair before knocking softly.

“Mama?” I eased the door open.

The room smelled like lavender and the faint metallic tang of her oxygen tank.

She was propped against pillows, eyes closed, breathing shallow but steady.

“Mama,” I whispered again, stepping closer.

Her lids fluttered. “Marcus, baby.”

A tired smile curved her lips. “Thought y’all forgot about me while you chase wedding dresses.”

“Never.” I leaned down to kissed her forehead.

I moved to the nightstand, pulled out the pill organizer and the water from the pitcher. She took the glass herself like she always did, stubborn about doing what she could.

“How you feeling?”

“Same old. Bed’s winning today.” She swallowed the pills one by one, then handed the glass back. “You look like you’ve been through a war.”

I forced a laugh. “Just… simple stuff.”

She patted my hand. “Go rest, baby. I’m fine. Press the button if I need you.”

I kissed her forehead again. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

The door clicked shut behind me just as thunder rolled outside. Perfect.

Rain hammered the windows like it was trying to get in.

I headed straight to my room, peeled off wet clothes, and wrapped a towel around my waist.

Time to get back to my regular spring routine.

Mixing my clay mask, I smeared it on, then sat on the edge of the bed staring at the storm.

The plants outside bent under the downpour. Everything looked clean, renewed. For a second, the chaos in my chest quieted.

Then, a knock.

“Coming!” I called, assuming it was the housekeeper with coffee.

I opened the door, and of course, just my luck.

It was…

Jake.

Soaked shirt clinging to his chest, hair dripping, holding two takeaway cups like peace offerings.

My stomach dropped.

“How did you get in here?”

“Housekeeping?” He shrugged. “Thought you’d be happy to see me.” He lifted one cup. “Brought your favorite. Black, two sugars.”

The rain had him drenched but didn't do enough to overpower the faint lavender scent coiled around him

I stared. “You went to my mom's room?”

“Checked on her. She was sleeping. Didn’t want to wake her.” He stepped forward. Slow, careful, like he was approaching something skittish. “Can I come in? Just to talk.”

Every instinct screamed no. But my feet didn’t move.

I stepped aside.

Wrong decision.

He walked in, set the coffees on my desk, then peeled off his drenched shirt without asking.

His muscles shifted under skin I used to know by heart before he grabbed my hair dryer from the drawer like he still lived here, switching it on and running it through his hair.

I stood frozen in my towel, mask cracking on my face.

“You should shower,” he said over the hum. “That mask is drying out.”

“Why are you here, Jake? Really.”

The question struck the perfect nerve.

His eyes rested on my figure for a quiet second before he turned the dryer off and set it down.

Walking closer, close enough for me to smell rain and cologne, he stopped dangerously near to me.

“I came for the wedding.” His voice dropped. “And… maybe because I never stopped thinking about you.”

My pulse roared in my ears.

He lifted a hand, brushed his thumb across my cheek… right over the cracking clay.

“I miss you, Marcus.”

His other hand settled at my waist. Light, but possessive. Eyes locked on mine, He leaned in slow, giving me every chance to pull away.

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

My brain screamed Merlina’s voice: *Push him off. Get him out.*

But my body remembered how he used to feel. How safe. How easy.

His lips were inches from mine.

And then…

The door slammed open. We both jerked apart.

Ethan stood in the doorway, laptop under one arm, suit jacket gone, sleeves rolled higher than before.

Rain glistened in his hair. His face was stone, but his eyes… they burned.

Dark. Furious. Jealous?

“Did I interrupt something?” His voice was low, controlled, but the edge cut like glass.

Jake stepped back fast, hands up. “Just… catching up.”

Ethan didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed locked on me. On the towel, the mask, the space between me and my ex that was suddenly too small.

“Hmm.” He stepped inside, then closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Jake cleared his throat. “I’ll… head out. See you at the wedding, Marcus.”

He grabbed his wet shirt, slipped past Ethan (careful not to touch him) and disappeared down the hall.

Silence stretched.

Ethan didn’t move. Just watched me.

I swallowed. “He just showed up. Emily invited him. I didn’t—”

“I know.” His jaw flexed. “Emily told me.”

He crossed the room in two strides, set the laptop on my desk next to the coffees. Opened it, then turned the screen toward me.

“I need you to look through this. Pick outfits for the wedding and bachelor party. Emily changed her mind… wants us to coordinate. She’s wearing pink.”

“Pink?”

“Yes.” He replied, dry. “Find something that won’t clash. Lighter shades. Whatever works.”

I stared at the screen. Then at him.

“You came here… for wardrobe advice? Right now?”

His eyes flicked to the towel, then back to my face. Something flickered there… heat, restraint, something darker.

“Is that a problem, Marcus?” He stepped closer. “Were you busy?”

My breath hitched.

I didn't answer, and he took that as an answer.

Reaching passed me to pick up one of the coffees Jake had left, he took a slow sip before setting it down.

“Browse. Buy what you think looks good on me.” His voice dropped lower. “You seem to have a clear idea of what suits me. When you’re done, leave the laptop in my room.”

He paused, hand on the knob, then looked back over his shoulder. “And Marcus?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let him touch you again.”

The words landed like a hand over my throat before the door clicked shut behind him.

I stood there, heart slamming, mask cracking, towel slipping, staring at the laptop like it would bite.

Then I sat. Opened the browser. Started scrolling.

But my mind wasn’t on suits.

It was on the way Ethan had looked at me when he walked in.

Like I was already his. And he didn’t share.