Page 124 of Broken Pact

But I . . . I can understand his reasoning. And I think that’s the part that kills me the most. I understand why he tried to take care of it for me. I don’t even know how he found out about Falcone or any of it, but I get it.

The men in the Rosewood Reapers are cut from a different cloth. Their lines of black and white are vastly different from the average person’s. I saw firsthand the lengths my cousin’s men went to make sure Evangeline stayed safe in the last couple of years.

And if I can reason and understand their actions, shouldn’t I be able to give Jasper the same courtesy?

I don’t have to like it to understand it.

Why did he do it, why didn’t he tell me, how did he find out about it? Those questions are all valid. But the only question that matters is: Is this worth throwing away what we have?

The question echoes in my mind, demanding an answer I'm not sure I'm ready to give.

I let out a shaky breath and run my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots. Hurt and anger still simmer inside me, but they're slowly being eclipsed by a growing sense of regret. Regret for the harsh words I flung at him, for not giving him a chance to fully explain.

But most of all, regret for the fact that I may have just pushed away the one man who has ever truly fought for me.

Tears blur my vision as I stare down at the crumpled papers, not really seeing them. My chest feels tight, each breath an effort as I try to process everything that just happened. My heart aches when I recall the words I said in anger.

Maybe I don’t want to be yours.

I knew it was a lie before I even lashed out. They weren’t true, but in the heat of the moment, they felt like a necessary release of pent up emotions. Now, they just feel like a mistake I can never take back. Regret suffocates me, burrowing into my soul and planting roots.

I wipe my eyes, grab my phone, and pull up our text thread in the next breath.

Me: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.

My stomach twists tighter and tighter as the minutes pass. Five minutes, then ten. When we get to twenty, I give in and text him again.

Me: I’m coming over. We’re going to work this out, okay? I don’t want to give up on us. I love you.

I delete the last three words and hit send.

56

CORALINE

I toss my phone into my purse and grab my keys, locking up the bakery behind me in record time. The late afternoon sun washes everything in a warm, golden glow as I slide into my car and point it towards Jasper’s house.

As I drive, my mind races, fueled by a potent cocktail of determination and hope. The scenery blurs past my windows, a kaleidoscope of vibrant green trees and clear blue skies. But I barely notice the beauty around me, my thoughts consumed by Jasper and the words I need to say.

I pull into his driveway, my heart pounding in my chest as I put the car in park. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves before stepping out.

Be brave, Nana Jo’s voice echoes inside my head.

The sounds of the birds chirping and the waves lapping at the shore calm my nerves as I walk to his front door. I raise my hand to knock, but hesitate. I still have a key, but I’m not sure what the right move is here.

Doubt creeps in, winding its thorny vines around my legs to keep me still. What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if I’ve ruined everything with my impulsive words?

I shake my head, dispelling the negative thoughts. No, I refuse to let fear hold me back. And if he doesn’t want to see me after I’ve apologized and laid my heart on the line, then at least I’ll know I tried.

I fish the key out of my purse and let myself in.

Pudding's loud meow greets me as soon as I step inside. He winds between my ankles, his fluffy gray tail brushing against my calves.

“Hey there, fluffball,” I murmur, bending down to scoop the cat into my arms. He purrs contentedly, nuzzling his head under my chin as I scratch behind his ears. His soft fur and steady purring help soothe my frayed nerves. “Where’s your dad, hm?”

He meows, opening his eyes a sliver and tilting his head against me.

“Well, that’s alright. We can wait for him,” I murmur, brushing my fingers along the side of his soft face.

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