“So what are you saying?”
“I’m not going to chase you. If Heavenly Father wants us together, it will be. For now, give yourself grace.”
“Thank you,” I say with heartfelt sincerity.
We finish our meal and return to the hotel.
I wonder how Jack is doing. I reach for my phone and discover three missed calls.
Huh.
I call.
“Hey, Jack,” I say, my chest tight for some reason.
There is an unsettling pause.
“Sorry, I missed your calls,” I add.
“Morgan, look at your phone.”
It buzzes.
Jack Killborne: *Image of Blake and me touching hands over dinner.*
Oh, no. Someone, likely a fan, caught our candid moment.
I swallow a groan. My eyes shut and I squirm.
He speaks lower, “Why was that preacher-fuck touching you? Move on from me already?”
I cringe and hold myself. “I got a little choked up today. He was just comforting me,” I explain.
“Choked up about us?”
“I just... Jack, I felt a lot of things onstage I didn’t expect.”
He grunts, annoyed. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Marriage. Faith. I regret letting God down.”
A deep inhale carries through the phone. I wait for his response.
The call ends.
I stare at my phone, stunned. He didn’t fight for me. Didn’t ask why or show any concern. The exact opposite of Blake.
My hands curl into fists.
What a... jerk. This isn’t fair.
I text fast.
Me: Why did u hang up?
Nothing. No response. I call, and he doesn’t answer.
Me: Talk to me!! You are NOT my regret. The timing is what’s tearing me apart.
