But I don’t.
As soon as I step outside his office, the heaviness lifts.
I’m free.
***
I drive through the city in wide, looping arcs until the anger fades and anticipation seeps in. I have no job, no plan, nothing tying me here.
Oddly, I’m not afraid.
I pull into a little park and sit beneath the shade of a sycamore. The sun is warm, the sky impossibly blue.
My phone buzzes.
Jack.
I stare at his name, wondering if I’m ready to explain—to him or even to myself. But I answer.
“Hey,” I say, my voice lighter than I expect.
“Hey.” His voice is steady, familiar. “How’s your day?”
I almost laugh. If only he knew.
“Eventful,” I say.
“Oh?” A smile in his tone. “Want to talk about it?”
I close my eyes, letting him in for one slow heartbeat. I do want to tell him. I want him to say I did the right thing. But not yet. Not over the phone, and not before I know what comes next.
“Not today,” I say quietly.
“Okay,” he says. He never pushes, just offers his quiet presence on the line.
And somehow, that’s enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JACK
Beth is always on my mind.
A week has crawled by since she left, and every morning, my first reflex is the same: I check my phone. I scroll through her old messages—always short, always careful, never giving away how she’s really doing.
But I know she’s not okay.
Her replies come slower each day. She never calls. I can feel her slipping away, and it’s gnawing at my insides.
She shouldn’t have gone back.
Now she’s stuck in that house with her nightmare of a family, facing a town that would rather swallow her whole than let her breathe. And I’m here, pacing the length of the garage, hands restless, heart pounding in my chest, waiting for something, anything, to change.
From his spot at the workbench, Henry watches me like I’m a sideshow act. He leans back, coffee in hand, a smirk playing at his lips.
“You keep this up, man, you’ll carve a ditch in the floor.”
I glare at him. “Real helpful, Henry.”
