“By destroying me?” she snaps. “By isolating me? By letting them?—”
“I didn’tletanything happen,” I bite out. “I tried?—”
“You didn’t try hard enough.”
That hurts.
More than I want to admit.
“And then,” she says, stepping closer, eyes locked on mine, “you show up with muffins like guilt can be baked away?”
Okay, fair, but still?—
“I’m here for you,” I say quietly.
Her expression shutters.
Something flickers in her eyes.
Anger. Pain. Something else I can’t name.
“You don’t get to say that.”
“Why? Because it’s true?”
She scoffs. “You think truth fixes anything?”
I step closer. “No. But maybe listening will.”
She doesn’t move, but the tension spikes.
“You’re afraid to hear me out,” I say.
Her chin lifts. “I’m not afraid.”
“You’re running.”
The way she tenses tells me I hit something real.
“Running?” she repeats, voice low. “You think that’s what this is?”
“You left, Jade.”
“You drove me away.”
The words knock the breath out of my chest.
I step closer until there’s barely air between us.
“How the hell are we supposed to fix anything,” I say, “when you keep sprinting in every direction but toward me?”
Her breath catches.
I keep going. I can’t stop.
“Stop running, Jade.”
Her jaw tightens so hard I see the muscle jump.
