“You think I’m mad you let me leave?”
“I don’t know why you’re mad at all, honestly. We had agreat night. You were fine when I left for practice, and then I came back, and you couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I want to understand. Help me understand.”
Izzy shivers, and she tugs the quilt tighter around her body. Her black bangs frame her face, but the rest is tossed up into a messy bun. “Now’s not the time. I want to go back to sleep.”
I shouldn’t push, but I can’t leave either. “Tell me why you’re upset. Talk to me. We can figure this out.” My chest tightens, an edge of panic there in my voice. I can handle a losing streak, but I can’t handle the way she’s looking at me—like I’m already gone.
“It’s about everything.” Her voice wobbles, and the pressure in the room shifts. “You sucked me up into your life, and suddenly, I’m an extension of you, and I’m losing myself. The store is doing well, but what if it’s only because of you? It all feels so out of control, and I don’t know how much more of this I can handle. And it’s just… before you, I knew who I was. And now…”
“I was only trying to help,” I cut in. “I thought… I thought you’d be proud to be seen with me.”
She stares at me, her gaze unfocused. “I told you I loved you,” Izzy whispers.
The words hit me like a puck to my chest.
I remember the rink. Remember the way the world stopped when she said it, and the way I’d stayed frozen.
“And you didn’t say it back, Jack. And then you show up today like this is just another thing to manage.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? We had a deal. Three dates, and it all ends by New Year’s. You never said you wanted anything different.” Her voice cracks. “But we already crossed that line, Jack. You know we did, and that’s the problem. Because I’m all the way in, and I still don’t know if you are.”
I rake a hand through my hair. I don’t know how to explain that my silence wasn’t ano, it was ahow can I?
Maybe it’s the chill from outside, but everything feels too raw. Like a deep cold has settled into my bones, and I can’t shake it off. Even my fingertips…
Christ, I just want to hold her.
“How would I know?” she whispers. “You didn’t say anything.”
“I’m saying it now, Izzy.” I rub the back of my hand against my mouth, keeping my eyes locked on hers. I need her to see me—me, not the fucking circus that’s Jack Murphy. “This is real. I’m here. Isn’t that enough?”
“No.” She shakes her head and shuffles backward another step. Might as well be another twenty feet, because she feels more and more out of reach. “January’s two weeks away. And then what?”
“It’ll be February.”
Fuck. I need to shut my mouth.
I can’t look at her, not when my joke falls flat. As it should have. She deserves better. If I look at her, I have to answer, and I don’t have an answer that doesn’t end with me losing my career or losing my mind.
Instead, I gather mugs from the coffee table. I need to move my hands. I stack them and carry them all to the sink. “Sit down. I’ll clean up.”
“What’s going to happen?” Izzy asks again. “Tell me.”
I keep my back to her and turn the faucet on, the water drowning out the ringing in my ears. I can’t tell her what’s going to happen because I’m terrified I’m one hit away from not knowing my own name.
“So that’s why you’re here?” Her laugh is brittle. “Because I left, and you’re worried about what? Summit backing out? You still need me to play the part?—”
“That’s not why?—”
“It is! Why else are you here?”
I spin around, the sink still running behind me. “Come on, I’m worried about you, Iz. I had no idea you were even sick. Let me help. Just—sit.Please.”
“No, if you’re going to leave, just do it now. I hate when it’s a surprise.”
“I’m not leaving.”
