“You love me.” Jace's face drops when he realizes what he said. “Sorry, I fell back into old habits.”
I nod slowly, staring down at my hands.
Jace taps my knee. “Will you stop being stubborn and let me give you a ride? Let me do this for you, please.”
I stare at Jace, then at the doors, visualizing the walk back to the house and up the stairs to my room. The thought alone makes me tired.
“Fine,” I concede. “Just because the thought of the walk sounds exhausting right now, and my muscles are screaming for no reason.” I slide forward and hook my arms around Jace, then wrap my legs around him.
His hands slide under my legs as he stands up with ease. He adjusts his grip, ensuring that he's got a good hold on me before walking out the gym doors.
When Jace stops at my bedroom door, he lowers me gently to the ground, and I slide down his back. The walk here was mostly silent—both of us wrapped in our own thoughts—and now that we’re standing on opposite sides of this moment, the words I thought I had prepared dissolve in my throat.
I shift my weight, staring at my feet. “Thanks… for carrying me.”
“I’m always here for you, Isobel.” His voice is soft. “Please know that.”
I keep my back turned to him, my hand hovering over the door handle. I want to say something—anything—that will make sense of the chaos in my chest. But the words refuse to come.
So, I push through the doors and close them behind me, not daring to look at his expression.
I stand there for a moment, spine pressed against the wood, trying to tame the wild beat of my heart. Then I cross the room and head for the bathroom, needing something to ground myself.
I turn on the faucet and let the tub fill with steaming water,adding bubbles and soap. The scent is warm and comforting—vanilla and something floral.
When I slide into the bath, the heat wraps around my aching body, melting tension I didn’t even realize I was holding. Since moving back to Ashthorne Hall, long baths have become my sanctuary. Hot water heals more than just muscles. Sometimes it feels like the only thing keeping me stitched together.
I rest my head against the rim, eyes drifting closed. And, of course, my traitorous brain goes straight to him.
To Jace.
To before, when it was just us and I still believed I could trust him with every part of me. A part of me aches to go back to that time, to that version of myself who was happy and stupidly, recklessly falling in love.
But another part wonders if any of it was ever real at all.
I can still see his face that first night. The way he looked at me. Open and vulnerable in a way he never lets anyone see. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was something deeper. The kind of connection that steals your breath.
His blue eyes burned into me, and I swear I could feel the love radiating from him. Even then.
Does that mean everything after that night—the betrayal, the lies—was the real illusion?
A shiver runs through me, even in the hot water. I can almost feel the ghost of his hands on my skin. His fingers in my hair. His breath on my neck as he whispered my name like it was a prayer. The way he touched me, adoring and hungry and impossibly gentle.
My own fingers drift downward before I even realize it. They find the tender, swollen bundle of nerves aching for release.
Maybe if I just— My gaze flicks toward the faucet.
I’ve heard stories.
People do it.
It’s a thing.
CouldI?
…No.
But—God.
