Chapter 13 - Sonya

It’s like walking on glass. Every time I step into the kitchen or the living room, I brace myself for the chance encounter, the unavoidable brush of tension that lingers in the air between Jack and me. It’s ridiculous, really, how a single kiss can turn everything upside down. But here we are, living in the same house, dodging each other like we’re strangers in a crowded room.

I pretend not to notice the way his shoulders tense when I walk by or the way he goes quiet whenever I’m near. He tries to keep his distance, and so do I, but it’s impossible to ignore the pull, the way my body seems to betray me every time he’s within arm’s reach. There’s this constant ache in my chest, a reminder of what almost happened and the line we crossed before slamming into reality. I keep replaying that moment, the feel of his lips on mine, and it’s like a splinter I can’t get rid of, buried too deep to ignore but too painful to keep digging at.

Mornings are the hardest. I’m used to the routine by now, with Jack up before dawn, moving quietly around the house so he doesn’t wake Fiona. I usually join him a little later, just in time to help with breakfast or catch a few minutes of peace before Fiona’s up and the day kicks into full gear. But now, I find myself lingering in my room, waiting until I hear the front door close before I venture out. It’s pathetic, but I’m not ready to face him. Not when the memory of that kiss is still fresh, still too close to the surface.

This morning is no different. I hover by the door, listening to the sounds of Jack moving around the kitchen. There’s the soft clink of a spoon against a mug, the scrape of a chair against the floor. I close my eyes, counting the seconds until the door creaks open and then thuds shut. Only then do I finally step out, taking a deep breath like I’ve been holding it in for hours.

Fiona’s babbling from her crib when I walk into her room, her little face lighting up when she sees me. I can’t help but smile back. The warmth of her joy cuts through the fog of my own mood. “Hey there, little one,” I coo, scooping her up and cuddling her close. She giggles, grabbing at my hair with tiny, determined fingers. It’s the kind of pure, uncomplicated love that makes everything else feel a little less heavy.

But as I carry her to the kitchen and set her in her high chair, the emptiness of the space is an obvious reminder of Jack’s absence. I try to focus on the task at hand, pulling out the cereal and milk, but my mind keeps drifting back to him. To the way his eyes lingered on me just a second too long when he thought I wasn’t looking. To the way his hand brushed against mine when he passed me the baby wipes last night, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through my entire body.

This is torture. I know I should be mad at him—I am mad at him—but it’s more than that. It’s the way he apologized, the guilt in his eyes when he pulled away. The way he’s been avoiding me ever since, like he’s punishing himself for a crime I’m not even sure he committed. Tanner’s words still sting, but the real hurt came from Jack’s retreat, from the way he pushed me away when I was ready to let him in. And now, I’m stuck in this limbo, aching for something I know I shouldn’t want.

As Fiona munches on her cereal, I distract myself by tidying up the kitchen, wiping down the counters and straightening up the clutter. It’s a losing battle—this house is a mess of baby toys and discarded work gloves, an ever-present reminder of the chaos Jack and I are trying to navigate together. I’m scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the counter when I hear the front door open, and my heart leaps into my throat.

Jack steps inside, and his gaze lands on me before he quickly looks away. He mutters a greeting with a strained voice and heads straight for the sink to wash his hands. I force myself to keep scrubbing, pretending I’m too busy to care that he’s here, but my hands are shaking, and I’m scrubbing the same spot over and over again, too caught up in my own head to notice.

Fiona lets out a delighted squeal, and Jack’s face softens as he turns to her with a smile breaking through the tension that hangs between us. “Hey, FiFi,” he says, his tone brightening as he crouches down to her level. She giggles, reaching for him, and for a moment, it’s like nothing’s changed. He scoops her up, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek, and my chest tightens with the same conflicting emotions that have been plaguing me since that damn kiss.

He glances over at me, catching me watching, and the easy smile slips from his face. “I’ll take her,” he says, his voice clipped, and it’s not a question. I nod, stepping aside as he carries Fiona out of the kitchen.

I sink into one of the kitchen chairs, pressing my palms to my eyes and letting out a frustrated sigh. This isn’t sustainable. I can’t keep tiptoeing around Jack like this, can’t keep pretending that nothing’s wrong when every glance, every awkward silence, is a reminder of what we’re not talking about. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know where to start.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear Jack come back in until he’s standing right in front of me. “Sonya, can we talk?”

I look up, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like days. There’s something in his expression that I can’t quite read—regret, maybe, or hope. Maybe both. “About what?”

He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “About… everything. About what happened. I—” He breaks off, his jaw clenching like he’s struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want things to be like this.”

“Like what?” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest. “Awkward? Because that’s your fault, Jack. You’re the one who pulled back.”

His eyes flash with something—guilt, anger, I’m not sure—and he takes a step closer. “I know. I know, okay? I messed up. I just… I don’t want to make things worse. For you. For Fiona.”

“Right,” I say, my voice flat. “Because God forbid you complicate things.”

“Sonya,” he breathes, his shoulders slumping. “I’m trying. I’m trying to do the right thing here, but I don’t know how to fix this.”

I study him, taking in the tension in his frame, the way he’s gripping the back of the chair like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. I want to stay mad. I want to keep that wall up because it’s easier than admitting that I’m scared, too—that I’m scared of what happens if we cross that line and everything falls apart.

But the truth is, I miss him. I miss the way things used to be, the easy banter, how we fit together in this messy, imperfect way. And maybe I even miss the way he kissed me, like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“Jack,” I start, my voice softening despite myself, “I don’t need you to fix anything. I just… I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?”

He meets my gaze, and his expression is a mix of regret and something else I can’t quite name. It’s like he’s teetering on the edge of an admission he’s not ready to make, and I don’t know whether I want to push him over that ledge or pull him back. He nods, but the movement is stiff, hesitant. “I’ll try.”

But there’s something brittle in his voice that sets me on edge. “Trying isn’t good enough,” I reply, the frustration bubbling up before I can tamp it down. “I’ve been trying to pretend everything’s fine, but it’s not. We’re walking around this house like we’re strangers, and I can’t stand it. So either say what you need to say, or stop pretending like you want to fix this.”

He flinches like I’ve slapped him, but I’m too far gone to care. Weeks of pent-up tension, confusion, and hurt are all crashing to the surface, and I’m done holding it in.

Jack opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then he snaps it shut, his jaw clenching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to do the right thing, Sonya. I’m trying to keep things from getting more messed up than they already are.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” I snap, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “What is the ‘right thing,’ Jack? Because all I see is you pushing me away every time we get close, and I’m tired of guessing what the hell is going through your head.”

He takes a step back and narrows his eyes. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know how badly I’ve screwed this up? I’m trying to protect you—from me, from all of this. I don’t want to be the guy who messes up your life because he can’t keep his shit together.”

“Maybe I don’t need protecting!” My voice rises, echoing off the walls of the quiet house, and Fiona stirs in her playpen, her little brows furrowing in her sleep. I immediately lower my voice, but the anger is still there, simmering just below the surface. “Maybe I need you to stop treating me like I’m some delicate thing that’s going to break the moment things get hard.”

Jack’s expression hardens, and for a second, I see a flash of something darker in his eyes—fear, maybe, or anger. “I can’t give you what you need, Sonya. I’m not that guy.”

“Who said I needed anything from you?” The words come out sharper than I wanted, but I don’t pull back. “You keep acting like you’re doing me a favor by keeping your distance, but all you’re doing is making things worse.”

He throws his hands up, pacing the room like a caged animal. “What do you want from me, Sonya? Huh? You want me to admit that I’m into you? That I think about kissing you every damn time you walk into a room? Fine. You win. There, I said it. But that doesn’t change anything.”

My heart pounds in my chest as his words hit me like a sledgehammer. I’ve wanted to hear him say it, to admit that there’s something between us, but now that he has, it doesn’t feel the way I thought it would. It feels messy and complicated, like a wound that’s been ripped open with no way to close it.

“You can’t just say that and expect it to fix everything. You don’t get to play with my feelings like this, Jack.”

“I’m not playing,” he shouts, his voice cracking. “You think I want to feel this way? You think I like the idea of messing up the one good thing I’ve got going?”

“Then stop!” I fire back, the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. “Stop acting like you’re some martyr and just be honest with me! Be honest with yourself!”

We stand there, both of us breathing hard, the tension so thick it’s choking. Neither of us says anything for a long moment, and I don’t know whether I want to scream or cry or both. All I know is that I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep running in circles, fighting the same battle over and over with no end in sight.

The sound of a car pulling up outside breaks the silence, and I feel a rush of relief so intense it nearly knocks me off my feet. Jane and Piper are here, and for once, their timing is perfect.

I turn away from Jack, swiping at the stray tear that’s escaped, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself before I face my friends. “Thank God,” I mutter under my breath, heading for the door.

Jack stays behind, and I don’t look back. I can’t. Not when I’m hanging on by a thread.

Jane greets me with a big smile, but it falters when she catches sight of my expression. “Whoa, what’s going on in there?” she asks, her eyes darting to the house. “Did I miss something?”

“Just… had a bit of a disagreement,” I explain vaguely, forcing a smile that feels all wrong. “Nothing to worry about.”

Piper raises an eyebrow, glancing between me and Jane. “You sure? Because it looks like you were about to throw down.”

“It’s fine,” I insist, though the tightness in my chest tells me otherwise. “Let’s just go inside.”

As we step into the living room, Jack is already halfway out the door, muttering something about meeting up with Reiner. He barely spares us a glance, and I’m grateful for the quick exit. I need space—space to breathe, to think, to figure out what the hell I’m doing.

Jane watches him go, then turns to me with a knowing look. “Okay, spill. What’s going on with you two? The tension in here is thick enough to cut with a knife.”

“Nothing’s going on,” I lie, sinking into the couch and grabbing a throw pillow to hug to my chest. “We just had a little argument, that’s all.”

Piper snorts, crossing her arms as she leans against the wall. “A little argument? Sonya, I know you, and that was not just a ‘little argument.’ You two looked ready to tear each other apart.”

“Or maybe tear each other’s clothes off,” Jane adds with a smirk. “Seriously, Sonya, what’s the deal? Are you and Jack…?”

“No!” I cut in, shaking my head furiously. “It’s not like that. Jack and I… we don’t get along, okay? You guys know this already. He’s infuriating, and we just… we clash. A lot.”

Jane exchanges a skeptical look with Piper. “Uh-huh. And that’s why you’re practically vibrating with all this weird energy? Come on, Sonya. I’m one of your best friends. Your sister, in all the ways that count. If something’s going on, you can tell me.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions raging inside me. “There’s nothing to tell. Jack’s… Jack. He drives me crazy, and not in a good way. Whatever you think you’re seeing, it’s just… it’s not real.”

“Is it, though?” Piper asks. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like there’s something there. And you’re not fooling anyone, least of all yourself.”

I grit my teeth as frustration bubbles up all over again. “I don’t feel anything for him, okay? I loathe him. End of story.”

Jane gives me a look that’s both amused and exasperated. “If you say so. But just remember, sometimes the line between hate and something else is pretty damn thin.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my tongue. They don’t get it. They don’t understand how complicated this is, how badly I want to believe that I can just turn off whatever this is between Jack and me. But as I sit there, staring at the spot where he stood just moments ago, I know I’m lying to myself. And maybe I’m in way deeper than I ever intended.