I should’ve known.
I stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the stone, trying to breathe through the weight pressing down on my chest.
She deserves better than this. Better thanme.
Bree stirs, this time lifting her head slightly. Her eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and for a second she just looks at me—like she’s checking to make sure I’m real.
“Morning,” she murmurs, voice rough and low.
“Morning.”
She blinks slowly, then smiles—small and soft, like she’s surprised to find me still here.
“You stayed.”
“You asked me to.”
Her smile widens just a fraction, and she settles back against my chest, fingers tracing idle patterns on my shirt. The touch is light, absent-minded, but it sends sparks through my skin.
I should say something. Apologize. Explain. But my throat’s too tight.
Instead, I just hold her.
The silence stretches, comfortable but fragile.
Then she says, so quietly I almost miss it, “I meant it. What I said last night.”
My heart stops.
“Bree—”
“I love you, Jace.” She lifts her head again, meeting my eyes. No hesitation. No doubt.
Just truth.
And it destroys me.
Because I don’t deserve those words. Not after what I did. Not after—
“Hey.” Her hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing over my cheek. “Where’d you go?”
I can’t look away from her. Can’t breathe.
“I was in this bed before,” I whisper. “With Riley. And I didn’t know it wasn’t you.”
Her expression doesn’t change. Doesn’t harden or pull away.
She just nods. “I know.”
“I should’ve known, Bree. Should’vefeltthe difference. Should’ve—”
“Jace.” Her voice is firm now, cutting through my spiral. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“But—”
“No.” She shifts, sitting up slightly, forcing me to meet her eyes. “Riley had my memories. My face. My voice. She was designed to fool you. And she did. That’s onher, not you.”
The words hit me, but they don’t stick. Can’t stick.
