Page 117 of Just Say Yes

I could talk with her tomorrow, but even as I set the phone down, something in my chest twisted.

Why was it when you loved someone, tomorrow always seemed too far away?

THIRTY-ONE

MJ

The night was colderthan usual for October, the kind of chill that seeped through your coat and settled in your bones. The faint glow of the porch light stretched out across the yard, illuminating the man sitting on the top step.

Trent fucking Fischer.

He sat there like a ghost from a life I didn’t want to remember, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his shoulders hunched like he wasn’t sure he should even be here. But his eyes? His eyes were locked on me, familiar and calculated, the same shade of brown that used to make me think I was safe.

I wasn’t.

The wind whispered through the trees, rattling the last of the leaves still clinging to the branches. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, the sound barely registering over the pounding of my heart.

“MJ,” Trent said softly as he rose, his voice low and steady. “Please. I just want to talk. Can we do that?”

The words froze me in place, the weight of them pressing down on my chest like a stone. He’d said similar words before—too many times. Back when I still believed that talking meant he cared, that smooth words meant he wouldn’t hurt me or ignore me again.

This wasn’t then. I wasn’t her.

“I mean it. No games. No lies. Just...let me explain,” he pleaded with his hands in the air. “MJ.. .”

My keys bit into my palm. “What are you doing here, Trent?” My voice came out steadier than I expected, cool and clipped, like I wasn’t standing there in my own driveway fighting the urge to scream.

I walked toward the steps and gripped the railing so hard my knuckles turned white. “Get off my front porch.”

He took a step closer, his hands still out in a mock gesture of surrender. His breath clouded in the crisp air, the faint smell of cologne reaching me as he moved.

“I know I messed up,” he began, his tone smooth and practiced, like he’d rehearsed this in his head a hundred times before showing up. “But I’ve been thinking about us—about you—and I want to make things right.”

I laughed, sharp and humorless, the sound cutting through the quiet. “Right,” I said, leaning against the railing, forcing my body to stay relaxed. “You’ve changed. You’re different. You’re sorry. Let me guess—you didn’t know what you had until it was gone?”

His jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration breaking through his carefully crafted expression. “I mean it, MJ. I’ve grown up. I shouldn’t have ghosted you like that. I’m ready to be the guy you deserve.”

I shook my head, the anger simmering beneath my skin rising to the surface. “The guy I deserve? Trent, the guy I deserve wouldn’t have knowingly taken my virginity and then acted like I never existed.”

His brow furrowed, the mask slipping further. “Come on, MJ. Don’t be like this. You were never so ... difficult before.”

There it was. The real Trent. The one who thought he could break me down with just a few words, who thought he still had that kind of power over me.

I straightened and stepped toward him. “You want the MJ who believed your lies? The girl who thought we’d ride off into the sunset together? She’s gone, Trent. And the woman standing in front of you? She doesn’t care if you’ve changed, because she has. Now get off my fucking porch before I show you how strong I’ve become.”

His smile faltered, but he didn’t back down. “I’m just asking for a second chance. Is that so hard? To forgive someone?”

The door behind him creaked open, and I glanced over his shoulder to see Aunt Bug stepping out, her gaze cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. She was wrapped in an oversize sweater, her expression nothing short of utterly unimpressed.

Trent stumbled off the porch and looked up at her. I took the opportunity to climb the steps and stand next to my aunt, looking down at him with my arms crossed.

“You want me to call the sheriff,” she said coolly, resting one hand on her hip, “or do you think he can run faster on those bird legs than I can dial?”

Trent’s face turned an interesting shade of red, but he held his ground, his hands rising defensively. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just want to talk to her.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like she wants to talk to you.” Bug’s tone was flat, unimpressed. “And if you don’t want the fire department out here hosing you off this porch, I suggest you leave.”

Trent shook his head, a dangerous, defiant glint in his eye. “I’m not going anywhere until she hears me out.”

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