Page 77 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

“Even though I don’t agree with you, you still have to find a way to forgive yourself,” she says gently. “What if in twenty years, Duke loses his wife and comes to you with this confession? What would you say to him?”

My chuckle comes out bitter. This is anything butfunny, but the idea of Duke ignoring anyone’s needs is laughable. That kid has more empathy than any adult I’ve ever met. At least…until I met Allie. “I’d tell him he didn’t kill her. He wasn’t the one behind the wheel. And even if he did make a mistake that might have led to this, he needs to be kinder to the person he is now because of it.”

Her thumb brushes across my knuckles, a silent promise that she’s here with me, through the messy parts of life. “Exactly,” she whispers. “Be kinder to yourself, Thatcher. Jenna wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over this. She would want you to learn from it and move on.”

“Kindness was never really my strong suit,” I admit with a half laugh, a fractured sound that doesn’t know if it wants to be hope or despair. “Especially kindness toward myself.”

“Good thing you’ve got me then,” Allie quips, her playful banter a lifeline back to the surface. “I’mexcellentat kindness. And board games. And making killer biscuits… Just ask my dog. It’s how he got his name. So, you know, you’ve hit the jackpot.”

“Seems like it,” I say, the corner of my mouth lifting despite the ache in my chest. Maybe with Allie by my side, I can start to forgive the man in the mirror.Maybe.

“But man…seeing Jason with you tonight...it was like watching a nightmare unfold all over again.” My voice is ragged as I confess, the memory of Jenna’s fear clawing its way to the surface. “I promised myself after Jenna that I wouldn’t let anyone I care about get hurt again. And there you were, in his grip, and everything inside me...snapped.”

Allie’s listening, her brows furrowed with concern and something fiercer—determination, maybe. The kind of look that says she’s not just here to play the damsel or thecomforting ear; she’s ready to climb into the trenches with me.

“First of all,” she starts, shifting closer, her warmth tangible even in the cool of the night. “I’m fine. I’ve been on my own for a while now and I can handle guys like Jason. But with Jenna…maybe I can help you get some answers you need? I have contacts, resources at the paper that could help dig up information.”

Her offer hangs between us, bold and brash. And damn if it doesn’t make my heart race for more reasons than one. It’s exactly what I’d expect from her—Allie isn’t one to sit on the sidelines. But the thought of her wading into this mess, becoming a target herself, sends a cold spike of dread straight through me.

“Allie, no.” The words come out heavy, laced with a cocktail of admiration and fear. “I need you to stay far away from this case. I mean it.”

“But—”

“No buts. I can’t let you risk your neck formyghosts.”

“Your ghosts seem pretty determined to crash our party,” she quips, her smile tinged with an edge. Her audacity is a jolt of electricity, sparking through the shadows of my guilt and doubt. It’s heady and contagious, and it takes everything I’ve got to keep my protective instincts in check.

The gratitude hits me first, fierce and warm like a shot of whiskey on a cold night. Allie’s offer to dive headfirst into my hurricane of a past is more than just gutsy—it’s noble, and it knocks the wind out of me with its unexpected generosity. “God, Allie,” I exhale, a half laugh caught in my throat. “You’re one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.”

But as quick as the gratitude washes over me, fear grabshold. The image of her, bright-eyed and fearless, stepping into a world where bullets don’t care about bravery or journalism degrees—that thought shreds me from the inside out. I can practically feel the crosshairs shifting, aiming at something far more precious than any revenge. “But I’m serious. This is really fucking dangerous. It’s not some review of tiramisu and bolognese.”

She exhales a laugh that’s anything but humored. “Bolognese and tiramisu,” she repeats. “Wow. If that’s all you think I’m good for, then you really haven’t gotten to know me at all.”

I shake my head, trying to scatter the dread pooling in my gut. “No, that’s…that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just mean that this is dangerous.Reallydangerous. I’ve seen what these people are capable of?—”

“These people?” she asks. “Yousaidyour wife thought she had a stalker. One.” It’s a question…and also not a question. She asks it almost like she already knows.

“It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated,” she repeats, murmuring. “Classified?”

My eyes jerk to hers. She seems to know so much more than I’ve ever said. She’s smart and observant. She’s clearly pieced together some of my background. So all I do is nod.

“I…” My voice breaks before I can barricade it with my usual stoicism. “I’m not going through losing someone again. Especially not you.”

She opens her mouth to argue, that firecracker spirit ready to ignite, but I press on, my words coming out more forceful than I intend.

“Listen to me,” I say firmly, my hand finding hers, gripping it tight enough to groundus both. “I can’t—I won’t—put you in their line of fire. I need to know you and Duke are both safe.”

“I’m not made of glass,” Allie insists, her voice a blend of frustration and concern. “I went to school for journalism. Hell, some of my classmates are overseas in war zones reporting right now?—”

“Butyouaren’t,” I admit, the edges of my resolve hardening the tiniest bit. “I know you might think I’m being an overbearing jerk, but if that’s the price for keeping you out of harm’s way, then so be it.”

Her silence hangs heavy. And as much as it kills me to see that spark of defiance dim in her eyes, I know this is one battle I have to win—for both our sakes.

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