4. Cracks in the Glass
4. Cracks in the Glass
The house had gone quiet again. Too quiet.
Danielle stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the half empty bottle of champagne, trying to remember where she'd left the glasses. Her reflection in the darkening window looked steadier than she felt. Poised and serene, like the kind of woman who was always composed. Always in love. A lie told so well, even she sometimes believed it.
Jason entered a moment later. His footsteps echoed against the tiles, too heavy, and too deliberate. He didn't speak. Just walked to the sink, turned on the tap, and let the water run. A steady, rushing sound filled the space between them like static.
Danielle glanced over her shoulder. "You could at least pretend to be glad they're here."
Jason gave a dry, hollow laugh. "I could. But I've never been good at pretending." For a moment, she thought he was insinuating something. That she was a master at pretending, like Hannah had always suggested. How Danielle and Jason's fourteen year age gap was all the proof Hannah needed to know Danielle was only in it for the money.
Her hands froze around the neck of the bottle. "I know it's not ideal. But what did you expect? It's Theo. You know what he's like, he's always been a little unpredictable."
"He's not unpredictable, Dani," Jason replied, his voice low and sharp. "He's calculated . He knew exactly what bringing her here would do."
Danielle turned, arms folding. "Maybe he really did just need to work. He and Hannah are business partners now."
Jason's eyes narrowed. "And you believe that?"
She hesitated just long enough. "I'd rather assume the best," she said finally, "until I have a reason not to."
Jason leaned back against the counter, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. "He's up to something. He always is."
"Maybe," she said quietly, "but that doesn't mean we have to let him ruin this weekend."
He looked at her then, really looked, and something in his expression loosened. A flicker of softness passed across his face, and his posture eased slightly. "You're still trying to fix everything," he said. "Just like always."
"Someone has to," she replied, allowing the barest trace of a smile. "You're too busy picking fights with ghosts."
That drew a reluctant chuckle from him. She almost relaxed, until his voice dropped again. "Do you ever regret it?"
Her heart slowed. "Regret what?"
"Us," he said. "The way it started."
She stared at the countertop for a beat too long. "You mean Theo. And Hannah." He nodded once. Her voice came carefully measured. "Sometimes I wish it had happened differently. Cleaner. That we'd met somewhere else. Some other time. But do I regret it?" She turned, offering him a soft smile. "No. Look at what we have."
Jason's eyes lingered on her. He crossed the room, took her hands in his and brushed his thumb over her ring. "I love you," he said quietly. "You know that, right?"
Danielle's smile didn't falter. "Of course I do. Why are you asking?"
"Because every time Theo's around," he murmured, "it feels like he's trying to win you back. Like he's waiting for me to screw up. Like he thinks you still want him ."
Danielle's fingers tightened slightly around his. "One brother's jealousy can't change how I feel. It will never change who I love."
Jason nodded, but his eyes flicked instinctively toward the hallway where faint laughter drifted down from upstairs. Theo's voice. Then Hannah's, soft and melodic.
"I don't trust him," Jason muttered. "I never have."
"I know," she said simply. She didn't try to argue. There was no point. They stood in silence for a moment, the murmur of distant voices threading through the quiet like an echo of the past neither of them had ever really outrun. "Maybe," Danielle said at last, her voice low, "this weekend's exactly what you need. A chance to let it go. All of it. You and Theo, maybe it's time."
Jason gave her a long, unreadable look. "Theo doesn't let things go," he said flatly. "He circles. Waits. Strikes when you're not looking."
"You make him sound like a shark." Danielle chuckled humourlessly.
"He is ."
Danielle stepped closer, laid her hands lightly on his chest. "I hope you're wrong."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Jason leaned down, resting his forehead gently against hers. His breath came slow and uneven. "Do you ever wish we could just disappear?" he whispered. "Start over. Somewhere no one knows us. No Theo. No past. Just us?"
Danielle's voice was barely audible. "All the time."
He kissed her then, slow, intense, and deliberate. The kind of kiss meant to reassure. To claim. When he pulled away, her lips felt colder than they should have.
Above them, the soft rhythm of footsteps crossed the ceiling. A laugh, Hannah's again, light and effortless, filtered down into the kitchen. Danielle stepped back, smoothing the front of her dress. "I should check on our guests," she said, her smile sweet and precise. "You focus on dinner. Maybe once we're all sat down, things will feel normal again."
Jason watched her. "Normal," he repeated, as if tasting the word.
"It's worth a try," she said.
She left the kitchen with graceful ease, but her hand trembled slightly as it touched the doorframe on the way out.
Jason turned toward the window. His reflection met him; older, harder, not quite the man he thought he'd be. Beyond the glass, the sky had darkened. Clouds heavy with storm rolled slowly in from the sea. Somewhere offshore, thunder rumbled low and distant.