It’s the only thought looping through my head.
You failed.
I’ve been trying for days. Days of forcing myself to be a decent person. Of not being the possessive caveman. Of not suffocating her. I swallowed jealousy, turned anger into jokes, gave her space.
And then, at the first real test—at the first ghost of the past—I shattered.
Grace sits beside me without a word. After a moment she leans into my shoulder and threads her arm through mine, warm and sure inside that pale-blue coat.
We used to do this as kids.
Parents screaming downstairs. Me hauling her into my room and shutting the door like it could keep the world out.
Only now I’m the one making everything loud.
“Is this about her?” Grace asks softly. “Sloane.”
Sloane.
Just hearing her name hurts—sharp, physical, right under my sternum—like someone reached in and ripped something out that I didn’t even know I needed until it was gone.
“Yeah,” I admit, my voice rough, muffled by my palms.
“Did she break your heart?”
I lower my hands and stare at the white sky.
“I don’t know, Gracie. To have your heart broken, you kind of need to have a whole one first. And I’m not sure I ever did.”
She lightly punches my arm. “Cut it out. Don’t get dramatic. What happened?”
“She told me the truth,” I say, and the words taste bitter as bile. “She told me why she was there the night we met. It wasn’t fate. It wasn’t attraction. It was… shock therapy. She wanted to forget her ex.”
I rake a hand through my hair, pulling hard until pain sparks—anything to distract me from what’s inside.
“I was the perfect toy. The distraction. The rebound.”
“Co—”
“And now he’s back. And she panicked. And I…”
I stop, feeling the anger rise again. That hot, possessive, irrational anger that almost made me punch a man on national television.
“I’m turning into him, Grace.”
Grace straightens, frowning. “Him who? The ex?”
“No. Dad.”
I spit the word like poison.
She pulls away sharply, eyes wide.
“Don’t ever say that again. Don’t you dare.”
“It’s true!” I snap, jumping to my feet and pacing through the snow. “I’m jealous. I’m possessive. I felt this black rage, Grace—this urge to destroy everything just because he’s here. And he’s a complete asshole. I hate him. I hate what he says, what he does—I can only imagine how badly he made her feel when they were together. I tried to control myself, but inside… inside I was a monster. I wanted to punch him. I almost did. You saw how I grabbed him during the tree challenge. How I shoved him. And I still want to punch him—maybe even more now. And I’m fucking jealous. I wanted to lock her in a room and not let her out until she swore I was the only one who existed.”
I stop in front of her, hands shaking.
