“Push her away,” I mutter to myself.
The words taste like ash. But I don’t take them back. Because if it keeps her safe?—
It’s worth it. Even if she never forgives me. Even if I don’t forgive myself.
13
TESSA
Idon’t wait for him to come to me. I go straight to the garage. The second I step inside, I spot him—under the hood of a truck, grease on his hands, tension radiating off him like heat.
“Are you going to explain what’s going on,” I demand, “or keep pretending everything’s normal?”
He doesn’t look up. “Everything is normal.”
I laugh, sharp and humorless. “Right. Because you lurking around my bookstore like a bodyguard is totally normal.”
He’s actively clenching everything.
“Sell the bookstore,” he says abruptly.
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“No,” I snap, stepping closer. “You don’t get to just drop that and not explain?—”
“It’s not safe,” he cuts in.
My stomach drops. “What does that mean?”
“It means you should leave town.”
The words hit like a slap.
“Excuse me?”
He finally looks at me—and there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Fear.
“Pack up. Go somewhere else. Start over.”
I stare at him. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?” I demand.
He hesitates.
And that hesitation? That’s it.
That’s the thing that pushes me over the edge.
“You don’t trust me,” I say quietly.
“It’s not about trust.”
“It’s exactly about trust,” I fire back. “You show up, you watch everything I do, you act like I’m in danger—but you won’t tell me why?”
