She hesitates. “I have to clean up first. I’ll catch up with you.”
I nod, but the disappointment settles in my chest like a weight.
I want her to come. I want her to pick me.
But I also know she needs to figure things out on her own. That if she doesn’t choose me—if she decides to walk away for good—I’ll have no one to blame but myself.
And if that happens… I’m not sure how I’ll recover.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jules
I shouldn’t be thinking about Corbin.
I should be sitting down with a notebook, listing out the pros and cons, making an informed decision about what the hell I’m doing with my life. Instead, I’ve been scrubbing the same damn table for five minutes straight, my mind caught in an endless loop of doubt and possibility.
I’m not going anywhere. So, when you’re ready to do this, I’ll be right here.
Those words keep replaying in my head, twisting themselves into something softer, something hopeful.
The truth? I don’t know what I want.
But I do know what I don’t want.
I don’t want to disappoint Tate. I don’t want to make a choice that will hurt him, to start something with Corbin only to rip it away again. I don’t want to hurt myself either. Or Corbin.
And I will if I jump into something without knowing if this is real.
I haven’t let myself experience anyone else. I’ve gone out with one man.One. I kissed Trey, and all it did was make me wish Corbin had been the one in front of me.
That scares me.
What if I’m just settling because I’m comfortable? Because I’m attracted to him? Because I know the way his body fits against mine?
Or what if Corbin is the only person I want?
What if he’s always been the only one I’ll ever want?
I press my palm to the table, my breath shaky. My reflection stares back at me in the freshly wiped surface, eyes clouded with uncertainty.
"You’ve been wiping down the same table for the last five minutes."
I jolt at Sarge’s voice, my stomach twisting.
Clearing my throat, I mutter, “Just making sure it’s really clean.”
Sarge leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyebrows lifted. “You’re thinking about Corbin, aren’t you?”
I shrug, wiping aimlessly at an invisible stain. “Does it matter?”
“I just don’t get it,” he exhales, shaking his head. “What is it about that guy that makes you lose all… common sense?”
I bristle. “I take offense to that statement.”
“You should be on dating apps,” he says bluntly. “Going out with Connie. Meeting new people. Instead, you’re running around town with the guy who smashed your heart into a million pieces and then did the same damn thing to Tate’s. Or have you forgotten?”
The words hit like a slap.
