And even then…he hadn’t run after me. He hadn’t fought for me.
He just let me go into the silence of the bedroom. I’d heard him leave and come back hours later.
That wasn’t the Jordan I knew. Not the man who made me feel safe. Not the man who kissed me like I was the very oxygen in his lungs.
This version, this man, wanted to wound. And he succeeded.
My stomach twisted as a quieter, more dangerous thoughtsurfaced.Was this the real him?The man underneath all the adoration he showed me? The one who’d snap when it mattered most?
The sunrise slipped through a gap in the curtains, far too bright for the storm still raging inside me. I hadn’t even cried. Not properly. The tears sat there, hot and heavy behind my eyes like floodwater against a dam. Just waiting.
I heard him stir. The soft creak of sofa cushions. The low hiss of the coffee machine. He was trying to do normal.
Then, his voice came tentatively through the door.
“Kate?”
Silence. I still couldn’t speak. I was too deep in my own rage now.
“I’ll head out to train for a bit,” he said softly. “Give you some space.”
Still, I said nothing. Not even afine. I didn’t trust myself to speak, because if I did, I might just give him a taste of what he unleashed on me last night.
The main door clicked shut.
And something inside me snapped.
I moved before I could think. Pulled the suitcase out from under the bed and started throwing things into it: clothes, chargers, shoes. The dress from last week was still tangled in there, caught in a loop of its own. My hands were shaking, stomach flipping. I felt a stray tear slip from my cheek and brushed it away aggressively. My own tears enraged me further.
There was no plan. No thought. I just had to get out of here. I needed to not behere. Not in this room. Not in this city. Not anywhere near him.
I zipped the case closed, makeup bag shoved on top, and dragged it to the lift like it weighed nothing at all. By the time I reached the lobby, my phone was in my hand. I booked the first flight out of here on Skyscanner without even a glance at the price. There was no room for logic with the way I was feeling right now.
As I got into the cab I’d managed to flag down, willing him not to come back at that moment, I texted Gwen so furiously that I was sure I almost cracked the screen.
Me
I’m heading to the airport. I need to come home. I’ll explain everything.
I pushed the fresh wave of nausea bubbling in my stomach down, and I didn’t look back.
Chapter Forty-Four
Jordan
I’d lefther in the apartment this morning.
She still hadn’t spoken to me. Not one word. Just that hollow silence through the bedroom door, the kind that echoed every shit thing I’d said the night before.
I’d told myself some space might help. Give her time to calm down. Give me time to figure out how the hell I was going to make it right.
I started with coffee. After my session, I headed to the cafe around the block, sat there for over an hour mulling over my apology but none of the words I could come up with felt like they’d cut it. I grabbed her usual. Flat white, one sweetener. Extra hot. Like it mattered. Like anything would be enough. I knew it wasn’t. She’d probably throw it in my face, and I wouldn’t even blame her.
I fucking hated myself for it. I’d replayed every vile thing I said to her last night, and it was making me sick to my stomach. The way I’d looked at her. The way I’d spoken to her like she was some burden I couldn’t carry, instead of the one person who’d ever made all of this make sense. The look on her face before she slammed that door would haunt me forever. I couldn’t take any of it back, but Christ I had to find a way to make her believe I didn’t mean a single fucking word.
I balanced the cups in one hand and fumbled with the keycard in the other.
The second I stepped inside, I knew something was off.
