My words tore out of me, louder than I’d ever spoken to him. The blood from his hand was dripping on the floor, his stance wobbly.
“So, no, Jackson, you never hit me, and you didn’t abuse me. You just slowly lost me, because you didn’t care. You didn’t really need me, and I was tired of needing you.”
When I told him I didn’t want to be together anymore, I remember the way his face fell, creased with confusion, like I’d spoken in a language he couldn’t understand. Like I’d wounded him without warning, without cause. Guilt settled in my chest that day and made a home there. I carried it quietly, questioned myself more times than I could count.
But even then, deep down, I knew I wasn’t being cruel, I was being honest. And sometimes, the truth feels like betrayal when it’s really just a final act of self-preservation.
“I have nothing left to give you.”
I felt all the sadness that I have been holding in for so long finally pass through my body, flowing away like rivulets of water washing dirt from weary hands.
“It can’t be over between us.” He stared at me, not angry, just lost. Then his gaze changed. “Is there someone else?”
Yes.
“The truth is—” I said, hesitating, “—there is nousanymore. And it’s not because of someone else. It’s because of the choices we made.”
Just like there was nouswith Luke. But because of the choices we didn’t dare to make.
“Don’t do this, Hazel. We can fix it.Ican fix it,” Jackson said, his voice thick with desperation. His eyes shimmered, not just from the alcohol but from regret. From the sudden realization that it was too late.
But beneath the gloss of emotion, something darker twisted. His fists tight at his sides, his stance just a little too tense. And still I stood my ground. If he got violent, there wasn’t a lot of place I could run. Alcohol turned angry people into ugly versions of themselves, especially if they were hurt.
After all, even a villain is a hero in his own story. Even a villain wants something to love. But I wasn’t his to love anymore.
“There’s nothing to fix anymore,” I said quietly, my voice cracking around the edges. “You lost me. Now let me go.”
47
Luke
I was flying down the street, foot heavy on the gas, red lights blurring past like meaningless suggestions. The roads were empty, and every intersection I ran through echoed with the thought that if the cops stopped me, I would just take them to the scene of the crime. My fist clenched around the steering wheel at the words in my mind.
Motherfucker. If he touched her. If he evenbreathedtoo close to her...
It should’ve taken me twenty minutes from the gas station. I was going to make it in ten. Mady’s voice still rang in my ears, each frantic word swirling in my milkshake brain.
Jackson. Brake-in. O’Riley’s. Hazel. Alone. Danger.
Goddammit, I left her alone. I knew this was a possibility, and I left her alone. Consumed by my own denial, my own pathetic fear of what loving her meant, of what it would take from me.
Hazel didn’t just live, shehealed—herself and people around her. It was like she was robbed of ugly emotions at birth, with only the most beautiful ones left and multiplied. I, however, felt every bit of disgusting, evil emotion towards the man whose presence she was in right now. Hazel needed me, and I wouldn’t fucking let her down.
I swerved lanes like a madman, reaching O’Riley’s in a blur, barely noticing the slammed brakes or the angry horns as I threw the door open and ran. The front door was ajar, glass crunched under my boots, curtains drawn. The building silent. Too silent.
And then I saw it. Blood on the floor.
No, no, no.
My heart stopped, a wave of ice spreading through my veins as I stood frozen.
“Hazel?” I breathed before the air even hit my lungs. I rushed into the staff room, screaming her name like I could summon her through force of will. What if that lunatic took her somewhere?
“HAZEL!”
But then faint, broken sobs reached my ears. I turned back, following the sound. And then I saw her, curled beneath the counter, a small, trembling figure. Her body was wrapped into a ball, hands hugging her knees, head bowed low as if trying to disappear from the world. Relief and dread crashed over me as I rushed to her side, kneeling in front of her.
“Sweetie,” I said, gently reaching for her hands, not knowing if she had been physically hurt. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
