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“You’re in trouble.” It wasn’t a question.

She shook her head. “No. Not in trouble.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Because this feels like trouble.”

She let out a slow breath. “I’m not in trouble. It’s just…very important. The timely completion of the errand is imperative.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then why me? Beyond my possible access to the Secret Keeper, which I still can’t promise to deliver.”

That got her attention.

She looked at him fully. “I understand the possible limitation. But let’s hope for the best, shall we?”

“Sure. But again—why me?

“Because even though you may not really trust me, the fact is, I trust you.”

The words came without hesitation. That hit him square in the chest. Jack swallowed, looking away. “Funny,” he muttered. “Could’ve fooled me five years ago.”

Silence followed.

He almost regretted saying it.

Almost.

“I guess part of me thought I was protecting you,” she said.

He scoffed. “By leaving and never contacting me until the bachelor auction?”

“By staying away and not communicating after the first letter I sent.”

“Yeah, that worked out great. I wrote to you for several months before a package arrived with all the previous months’ worth of my letters returned unceremoniously, unopened and unread. That was not fun, by the way.”

She flinched. “I didn’t get the letters, Jack. Once I started the…program…any communication from the outside wasn’t allowed. If I’d known in advance, I would have told you. And I likely wouldn’t have even sent the first letter.”

Damn it.

Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I’m not trying to be mean here, but—”

“It’s okay,” she cut in. “You’re right.”

That stopped him.

“Am I?”

“Yes.” Her voice was steady, even if her eyes weren’t. “I know that I hurt you. And I don’t get to pretend I didn’t. Lots ofwhat happened was out of my control. But that doesn’t make it acceptable. I get that.” Her expression hardened once more into that rigid mien, like she’d silently gone into warrior mode.

Jack stared at her.

This wasn’t the Madelaine he remembered.

Or maybe it was.