Page 72 of Isabelle & Jason
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Marcus gave her a flat look, then gestured to her. “You’re still barely eating. Have you noticed how loose your clothes have gotten? I know you’re not sleeping well. You never have. And now that Jason is gone?—”
“Gone?” she squeaked. Her eyes flew to the wranglers’ cabin where all the men stayed. “No.” The last word was said in a hushed whisper, and she sprinted toward it.
Marcus’s sigh of frustration was overshadowed by his pounding footsteps. “Isabelle, wait.”
She couldn’t. No one had told her that he’d left. He hadn’t said he was leaving. What kind of person did that to someone they cared about? Isabelle made it to his room, breathless and pounded on the door. When no one answered, she pounded her fists on it again. “Jason?”
The door swung open, and she gasped when she caught sight of Mark. His expression was unreadable, and his focus flicked to Marcus, who stood a few feet behind her. She only had to peer into the room for a matter of seconds to take in the empty side of the room where Jason used to live.
Her heart plummeted and her vision swam.
No.
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t just leave like that. This was worse than the breakup because she’d known he was only a little way away in case she’d needed him.
Isabelle barely registered that she’d swayed on her feet before her brother reached out to steady her. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, forcing the panic attack away. No. She refused to accept this.
“Izzie…” Marcus said gently.
“No!” She practically shouted, ripping out of his arms. “This is your fault. All of you. Mateo. Nikki. All of you.” She pushed past him, her steps unsteady as she rushed for the house. She needed her phone. Maybe if she called him, she’d be able to convince him to come back. Mateo had to take him back. Nikki, too. He was the best chef they had.
But after she tried calling him several times with no answer, she knew it was over.
Jason had left. He’d abandoned her.
He would not be coming back.
She losttrack of time as she sat on her bed. The light dimmed as the sun went down. Someone brought her dinner, but she ignored it. Staring at the same spot on the wall, she attempted to go over everything in her head. How had everything gotten so messed up? A few months ago, she’d had everything she could have wanted. She was feeling more like herself. She had the love of a good man. Everything was perfect.
No, not perfect.
Isabelle had to remind herself of that fact.
Perfection wasn’t possible, not when her insides had been charred by a bad experience with no way to cut it out.
“Izzie?” Charlie’s quiet voice broke through her internal suffering. The mattress dipped at her side and a warm hand wrapped around her cool one. “Izzie, I’m here.”
Without a word, Isabelle let her head fall onto her friend’s shoulder. She was the only one who knew everything and had stuck around.
Maybe that wasn’t really fair. As much as she wanted to blame Jason for leaving, she knew that she’d done her fair share of pushing people away.
She’d thought she was strong enough to handle all of this.
She’d convinced herself that the turmoil she experienced wasn’t bad enough to warrant getting professional help. Whenever the suggestion was offered up as a way to make her feel better, she’d taken offense.
And she’d spit in the faces of those who only wanted to see her thrive.
Isabelle closed her eyes. A tear slipped from her eye, down her temple, and into Charlie’s shirt. She was lost and so alone.
No. Not alone.
There were people who loved her surrounding her. They were reaching out to her, and all she had to do was take their hand.
“I’m sorry,” Isabelle said with a teary rasp.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Charlie insisted.
