Page 98 of The Sound Between Us
We didn’t. Not really. Not in any way that gave her the right to waltz in. But that’s Ruby—she takes what isn’t given and calls it a misunderstanding.
“Now, Ruby. Get the fuck out.”
But she’s performing now, loving the audience. Her eyes slide over Seren inventory-style, something to be assessed and dismissed. “Playing house with the record shop girl?”
“Don’t.” My voice drops low and dangerous.
But Ruby doesn’t back down. She never does. “What? I think it’s sweet. Very authentic. How refreshingly normal for you, Harry.”
Seren reacts to that, just the smallest flinch—but I feel it. She hears the familiarity, the shared history in Ruby’s voice. The casual intimacy of someone who’s been here before, who knows which name to use to cut deepest.
And I see it, see something in Seren go still. Cold. Watching her worst fears play out in real time.
“I said get out.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your little experiment.” She purrs the words. “I’ll call you later, baby. When you’re done playing house.”
She walks away on her stilettos, every step punctuating disaster, and I turn back to find Seren already halfway dressed, hands trembling, breath shallow, eyes glassy with betrayal.
“She’s just an ex,” I say, the words scrambling over each other in their desperation. “She had a key. I should’ve changed the locks—I will. I’ll do it right now. Please, just—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Harrison.”
The full name is a knife. Meant to wound. And it does.
“Seren, please. Don’t let her ruin this.”
She freezes. Then turns, and the fury burning behind her eyes is magnificent and terrible. “Ruin what? This was always going to happen. Women like her, scenes like this. This is your life. It’s who you are.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” Her voice cracks, just once, and I want to die. “How many others have keys? How many others walk in like they belong here?”
“Just her. I swear. And I’ll change the locks today—”
“It doesn’t matter!” The words snap out of her. “That’s the point. This is exactly what I was afraid of.”
“What are you afraid of?” I step in front of the door, desperate now, physically trying to block her from leaving.
“Of becoming her! Of being another woman who gets devoured by your orbit. Who has to fight for space in a life that was never built to accommodate anyone else.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it?” She laughs, and it’s soft and bitter and broken, and it makes something inside me splinter. “You’re Harrison Carter. You collect women. Rotate them out when the sound gets old. I’ve seen the headlines. Ruby. The model. The actress before her.”
“Those weren’t real.”
“And what makes this different?” She’s pulling on her jeans now, movements sharp with purpose. “Nothing. I was just the novelty. The normal girl who made you feel something for five minutes.”
The truth in her words makes me flinch. Because once, they were true. Before her. Before I understood the difference between wanting someone and needing them.
But this, she, isn’t that. And I don’t know how to make her believe it without sounding like every man who’s ever begged a woman to stay.
“Seren, listen to me—”
“No.” She finds her shirt, pulls it over her head with jerky movements. “The thing is, Harrison... I don’t want this. I never did. I want my quiet life. My little shop. That’s all I need.”
She steps past me. Doesn’t look back.
