I shove away from him, chest heaving.
He grabs my shoulders harder, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Son,” he says quietly, “you can’t help her if you fall apart.”
That slices through me.
Just a little.
I pull away.
I can’t breathe in this house.
I run.
I run out the door into the freezing morning air, barefoot, in sweats, no jacket. The cold hits me like a slap, but it doesn’t stop me.
If anything, it fuels me.
I run five miles through the biting wind, lungs burning, legs screaming, mind beating the same thought into me over and over:
I should have protected her.
I should have seen it coming.
I should have never listened to my mother.
I should have chosen her.
I should have chosen her.
When I reach Jade’s house, the windows are dark.
No lights.
No car.
No sign of life.
It looks… abandoned.
My chest caves in.
“Her security is shit,” I mutter under my breath. “Anyone could walk right in.”
I pace the driveway, running my hands through my hair, trying not to scream.
My fingers itch toward my phone.
I could call in favors.
I could track her.
I could find out exactly where she is within minutes.
But she’d hate me for it.
She’d never forgive me.
