Page 140 of Protecting Love

He didn’t think he was all that demanding. Hell, if anything he let her do whatever she wanted out of guilt for his job.

But he had to remind himself, that was in the past.

He’d moved on. Didn’t seem his ex could.

“You couldn’t give me what I needed. And now. Now you’re giving it to some blonde bimbo close to two decades younger than you. You called me a whore.”

His fist clenched. “First off, watch your fucking mouth. Not once have I ever said anything about the men you’ve dated. And we know it’s a lot. Nor the fact that you remarried and moved. You never once considered Ian in any of your decisions. And I’ve never called you a whore.”

“Not to my face,” Lorraine huffed. “And I was moving with my new husband. Lord knows I moved around enough for your job.”

“And look where it brought us.”

“Yeah, you dating someone so young it probably has most people laughing behind your back.”

She was just that hot poker stabbing at him.

“If anyone laughed at me, it’s for staying with you,” he said. “If you’ve got nothing more to say, we are done.”

“Do something about Ian’s attitude or we’ll go back to court and I’ll get custody of him.”

He braced his hands on the table. “He’s old enough to choose. He did. And that is what your biggest problem is. You lost him. And no matter what you do, your treatment of him can’t get him back.”

“Just remember that with your new girlfriend. He’ll turn on you just as quickly.”

He blew out a breath as he walked out the door.

He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how lethal those words were.

He’ll turn on you just as quickly.

That was the one that burrowed in.

Not the blonde bimbo jab. Not the age difference. Not even the custody threat.

Ian.

He’d fought for stability. For routine. For a life that didn’t feel like constant upheaval. He’d promised himself that after the divorce, after the FBI, after everything, he wouldn’t screw up his son.

And yet here he was. Dating a woman in her early thirties.

Sneaking out to spend time with her. Wanting more time to give than he had.

Trying to balance it all.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe Lorraine was wrong about a lot of things. But what if she wasn’t wrong about that?

What if Ian felt replaced? Or sidelined? Or forced to compete with a life Fletcher had rebuilt too fast?

The approval over waffles and sports suddenly felt thin. Like his son might have been putting on too good of a front.

That maybe he wasn’t looking deep enough for the truth that his son had gotten so good at hiding for years.

He walked back to his office, the cool mid-October breeze slapping at his face, forcing him to think.

To make a decision. To figure out what worked the best for everyone.

Then he realized—there was never one answer that worked for everyone.