“I’m being stupid,” she muttered. “We’ve kissed twice. That doesn’t exactly give me the right to?—”
“To want him here? To hope he’d make the effort?” Ginger stopped walking, turning to face her fully. “Chloe, you’re allowed to want things. You’re allowed to be disappointed when you don’t get them. Just because your ex was a complete waste of carbon doesn’t mean you have to lower your standards to nothing.”
Chloe blinked against the sudden sting in her eyes. “That’s not—I’m not?—”
“You moved halfway across the country pregnant and alone. You left everything familiar because that jackass couldn’t be bothered to be a decent human being. And now you’re interested in a guy who kisses you like you’re his last breath and then pushes you away because he’s terrified of his own feelings.” Ginger’s voice was firm but kind. “You deserve better than scraps of attention when it’s convenient and safe.”
Ginger was right. She had accepted Travis’s money and his abandonment because it seemed easier than fighting for someone who didn’t want to fight for her. She’d packed up her life and started over because being alone seemed preferable to being unwanted. And now she was doing it again, makingexcuses for Victor, and accepting his fear as justification for keeping her at arm’s length.
“So what do I do?” The question came out small and uncertain.
Ginger smiled. “You decide what you’re willing to accept, and then you tell him clearly, with no room for misinterpretation.” She paused, glancing over at Houston, who’d finally extracted himself from Mr. Henderson and was heading their way. “But maybe give him a little time first. Sometimes the stubborn ones need to come around on their own.”
Houston reached them, and she saw the exact moment he noticed her distress.
“Everything all right?” His deep voice rumbled with genuine concern.
“Boy troubles,” Ginger said lightly. “Nothing that can’t be solved with excessive amounts of festival food and maybe some inappropriate quantities of hot cider.”
Houston’s lips twitched. “Jekyll?”
She sighed. “Does everyone in this town know my business?”
“Perhaps there’s a magical grapevine = or perhaps it’s just typical small town nosiness. Pick your explanation.” Houston’s eyes were kind despite the deadpan delivery.
“Come on.” Ginger tugged her forward. “Let’s go win you an oversized stuffed animal at the ring toss. Nothing says emotional stability like carrying a three-foot plush werewolf through a harvest festival.”
The next hour passed in a blur of games and laughter. Ginger was relentlessly cheerful, and Houston’s dry commentary on thevarious festival attractions (“The haunted maze is just Gladys’s storage shed with some cobwebs and a smoke machine”) kept her spirits lifted.
But she couldn’t completely shake the awareness of Victor’s absence. She couldn’t stop scanning the crowd even though she knew he wouldn’t appear. By the time the festival wound down and the crowd began to thin, exhaustion was setting into her bones. The baby had been active all evening, pressing against her ribs in a way that made deep breaths difficult.
“I should head home,” she said, suppressing a yawn. “Before I fall asleep standing up.”
“Want company on the drive?” Ginger offered. “We could follow you, make sure you get back safe.”
“I’m fine. It’s not that far.” She hugged her new friend, surprised by how much lighter she felt despite the disappointment still sitting in her chest. “Thank you for tonight, and for listening.”
“Anytime.” Ginger squeezed back. “And Chloe? Don’t give up on him yet. Some people are worth the wait.”
The drive home was quiet, the darkness broken only by her headlights cutting through the October night. She thought about Victor. About the way he’d kissed her—desperate and careful all at once. About the green glow in his eyes and the size of his hands when Hyde pushed close to the surface.
About the journal she’d given him and the secrets it might hold.Balance is the answer.She’d read enough of Thaddeus Jackson’s entries to understand that his relationship with his Hyde had been fundamentally different from Victor’s. Where Victor suppressed and controlled, Thaddeus had integrated andaccepted. The question was whether Victor could do the same, or whether his father’s legacy was too powerful to overcome.
Two days later,Chloe sat on the examination table again, trying not to fidget while he measured her blood pressure with professional efficiency. His hands were steady, and his expression neutral.
But she could see the tension in his shoulders. The careful way he avoided direct eye contact.
“Your blood pressure’s good,” he said, making a note on her chart. “Any concerns since your last visit?”
“Just one.”
He looked up, and for a moment their eyes met. His were carefully blank, but she saw the flash of green before he blinked it away.
“What kind of concern?”
“Why weren’t you at the festival?”
The question hung between them. His jaw tightened, and he turned away to set down the blood pressure cuff.
