Chapter 5 Hotter Than My Trauma

He looked... different. Sharper. Darker. His hair was shorter than I remembered, jaw more defined, and his body... yeah, clearly God was showing off that day. But even though he was still Darius, one thing hit me instantly.

Zade—damn it—was still hotter.

Taller. Broader. More present. His charm wasn’t just something you saw, it was something you felt. Something that made everyone else shrink a little. And I hated how that messed with the way I saw every other man, including the one who once made me forget who I was.

“Bee, meet Rhys,” Zade said calmly, placing his hand on my back again. “He’ll be our new bodyguard.”

Rhys.

Of course. Now you’ve got a stage name.

Darius looked at me. And in one painfully long second, everything I’d tried to bury came rushing back.

Those eyes. That stare. The one that used to strip me bare and strangle me with its overprotectiveness. The one I once leaned on while Steccy spent her days driving me insane.

He held out his hand. “Looking forward to working with you, Mrs. Solenzara.”

That voice. Deeper now. Rougher. But still his. Still the same voice that used to fill my chest like oxygen five years ago... before it disappeared.

I took his hand. “Please don’t call me ma’am,” I muttered, forcing a tight smile. “I’m not that old.”

He didn’t respond. But his eyes scanned my face like silent bullets.

I slipped my hand out of his grip. Zade smiled beside me, completely unaware he’d just placed an old enemy on our front porch.

My fingers still felt cold as I pulled Zade inside, gripping his sleeve like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

His hand never left my waist. It had been five years since he first touched me like this—without hesitation, without question. And I’d never minded. Never really thought twice about it.

But today…

Today felt different.

There was warmth in his touch that lingered longer than usual. A quiet pressure in his arm that sent something sparking under my skin. And his breath, steady and deep near my temple, reminded me how familiar this body had become pressed against mine.

I used to think the reason I let Zade in was because I’d gotten used to him. Turns out, it wasn’t that. Maybe I wasn’t just used to him. Maybe I’d been blind.

“What did you buy?” he asked as he nudged the back door shut with his foot, eyes falling back on me. “Or did you just go out to emotionally abuse our credit card with your stare?”

I clicked my tongue, lifting my chin. “Mental clarity and bubble tea. Both wildly overpriced.”

He chuckled, leaning in a little closer like he wanted to read the fine print on my mood. “Mental clarity, huh? I should’ve gone with you.”

We walked the long hallway toward the living room. This house was way too big for two adults and one tiny human who lived like a cartoon character with ADHD. But Zade insisted on building it like a fortress. Tall, wide, filled with quiet corners no one could reach but us.

Laughter echoed from the living room.

I turned to look. Zoey was rolling across the couch in a purple princess dress, black hair a mess, bangs half covering her eyes. Sasha sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by crayons, storybooks, and what was left of her sanity. Our eyes met and she gave me a weak grimace with the universal expression for oh-god-save-me.

I gave her a sympathetic nod. Zoey in chaos mode was a force even trained mercenaries wouldn’t want to face.

Zade shifted my body gently, and I realized we were still standing way too close. Our breaths nearly touched. And for some reason... I didn’t want to move away.

Stupid.

Zade traced his thumb lightly across my back. The kind of touch that barely registered but still sent my pulse into a tempo I didn’t ask for.

“Your face looks weird,” he said, tilting his head.

I squinted at him. “Wow. Romantic. Nothing like telling your wife she looks exhausted.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, light as air. “You just seem… off.”

Maybe .. Bothered?

Yeah. Maybe because the man who once kissed me like the world was ending was now standing thirty feet from my daughter with a gun tucked under his belt and a fake name on his lips.

But of course, I just said, “Maybe I’m realizing my husband’s actually hotter than the man I used to think was the peak of male existence.”

Zade blinked, lips curling halfway. “Wow. That’s... dangerously close to a compliment.”

I shrugged. “Don’t get cocky.”

He grinned. “Too late.”

And damn it, he really was handsome. But more than that, Zade Solenzara was the definition of overkill. The way his eyes held you, the cut of his jaw, the way he spoke in that low, careful way like every word carried a secret. He could just stand there in silence and still command the entire room.

I used to think Darius was the only man who could fill a room with nothing but quiet. Turns out, Zade didn’t just fill a room. He bent it around him.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.

Which brought me to one very unfortunate conclusion: I was standing between two men ...once I loved.

One I walked away from.

///

Zoey’s waffle looked like it had barely survived a war. One half was bitten to death, the other half drowned in syrup like it sank mid-escape. Strawberry pieces were scattered like debris.

Still, she sat with the grace only a four-year-old in a plastic tiara and alpaca pajama pants could pull off.

Zade sat at the end of the table, legs crossed, wine glass in hand, expression calm like he was chairing a board meeting instead of eating dinner with a preschooler.

I sat beside him, slicing up a piece of salmon Zoey hadn’t touched.

And at the far end of the room stood the shadow I once mistook for my whole world: Darius Morrano. Now going by Rhys. The fake bodyguard with a stare too calm for a man full of that much rage.

“Why’s your face sad, Mister Rhys?” Zoey asked, her mouth full of waffle and syrup dripping from her chin.

I nearly spit my water across the table. Zade raised an eyebrow, sipping his wine like he was watching premium cable.

Rhys—Darius—didn’t flinch.  “I’m not sad, Miss.”

Zoey narrowed her bright blue eyes. “But your eyes look like Daddy’s when Mommy says he can’t get a new Harley.”

Zade nodded slowly, lips twitching. “Fair point.”

I yanked a napkin to my face, pretending to be polite when really I didn’t know whether to laugh or shove my head into the salad bowl.

“I know!” Zoey shouted, pointing her pink fork right at Rhys. “Mommy, Daddy’s way more handsome than him, right?”

Okay.

Crap.

Zade turned to me, his expression so relaxed it had to be illegal.

I took a breath. “Well, technically… Daddy does have a jawline that qualifies as a weapon of mass destruction.”

Zoey slammed her tiny palm on the table. “See?”

Across the room, Rhys stood like a statue from some broody museum exhibit. But I knew his thoughts weren’t still. He looked at me once—quick, sharp, just long enough to remind me of everything I’d worked to forget.

What surprised me was that I didn’t flinch. Not this time.

Back then, Darius’s stare could melt my brain and make me do things I hated myself for.

Now… it felt flat. Familiar, sure. But cold. Like touching an old photograph gathering dust.

Zade, on the other hand—damn him—didn’t even have to look at me to make the world feel less cruel. His hand would brush my back casually, his fingers would tap my glass if I zoned out too long. He didn’t take space. He filled it.

“This waffle tastes like Daddy,” Zoey declared suddenly.

I frowned. “Sweet?”

“Nope. Hard on the outside, mushy on the inside.”

I laughed so hard I had to hold my stomach. Zade just shook his head, then leaned in, his lips brushing close to my ear.

“We should probably cut back on her detective cartoons.”

“Yeah. Or start early therapy.”