“No. You’re an asshole,” I say, grabbing my jacket from the floor and shoving my arms through the sleeves.
His shoulders tense, his whole body going stiff, as if I’ve hit a nerve he didn’t realize was exposed.
“Bells, I’m trying to be honest.”
“You’re trying to run,” I fire back. “There’s a difference between honesty and cowardice, and you’re sprinting toward the latter.”
That one lands. I see it hit. The way his breath catches for just a second. But he doesn’t deny it or try to defend himself. That silence tells me everything I fucking need to know.
I head for the door, my hand wrapping around the handle. I pause, looking back at him one last time—giving him a chance he doesn’t deserve to say something, anything that might make this hurt less.
He doesn’t take it. Of course he fucking doesn’t.
I open the door and step outside into the morning without waiting for him to stop me, because we both know he won’t. The trailer door slams shut behind me so hard it rattles the thin metal frame, and the sound echoes like a gunshot in the silence.
Good. Let it shake.
Let him feel the weight of what he just threw away.
Let him sit in that silence he loves so much and choke on it.
Cold air hits my face immediately, but it doesn’t cool the heat burning in my chest. I storm down the narrow driveway, boots crunching over gravel, fury pounding through me in steady, furious beats.
Asshole. Fucking asshole.
He looked me in the eye, kissed me slowly like he had all the time in the world, held me all night as if I were something worth keeping. Then morning comes, and suddenly I’m just another inconvenience he needs to handle.
I blink hard against the sting in my eyes, my vision blurring at the edges.
I will not cry over him.
Not when my dad is lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life. Not when I have real problems that matter more than whatever the fuck just happened in that trailer. Jace doesn’t deserve my tears. He doesn’t get to take up space in my head when there’s barely enough room to breathe as it is.
But my throat tightens regardless, betraying me, and I hate that even after he showed me exactly who he is, some stupid part of me still wishes he’d come after me.
He won’t, though, because that would actually require him to care.
The driveway extends in front of me, passing the manicured lawn that seems straight out of a lifestyle magazine. Flawless hedges. Shiny windows. Everything is pristine and calculated, as if someone meticulously measured the space between every blade of grass.
And then there’s Jace’s trailer sitting off to the side, like an afterthought. Something that doesn’t belong here in this perfect life. The contrast makes my stomach twist, bitter and intense.
That’s when I see her.
His aunt stands near the garden path wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat and tailored linen that likely costs more than my car. Her posture is calm, every movement controlled. She looks at me the way people look at something they accidentally stepped in—with mild disgust and the vague annoyance of having to acknowledge it.
Her eyes quickly glance past me toward the trailer and then back to me. Judgment and disdain all wrapped up in one perfectly practiced glance.
Something inside me breaks.
I’m already raw, bleeding from Jace’s carefully delivered rejection, and now this woman… this stranger who doesn’t know a goddamn thing about me is looking at me like I’m trash she needs to take out.
I come to a stop mid-stride and turn completely toward her, jaw clenched, hands curling into fists at my sides.
Fuck it. She wants a show? I’ll give her one.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” I bite out.
Her eyebrows lift above the rim of her sunglasses, perfectly arched.
