Page 141 of A Perfect Fit

Coward.

You’re a coward, Jackson.

“Just like how you’re choosing to leave right now,” she quietly says. The softness in her voice hurts more than if she yelled it.

Isabelle’s phone starts ringing, but she doesn’t pick up, only letting it continue to ring until it stops.

A ding echoes from her phone, and she reluctantly checks it.

“Jen’s asking if I’m coming home for lunch,” she says, glancing down at the floor.

My eyes squeeze shut, and I reach for the metaphorical knife once more, twisting it deeper in our hearts. “You should go.” The words come out more brazen than I intended.

Isabelle blinks again, and after a beat, she stands, grabbing her book and tote bag. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” There’s no trace of emotion in her voice. “Take care, Jackson.”

Without awaiting a reply, she heads for the exit.

I jerk my head around. “Isabelle, wait⁠—”

Her name leaves my mouth too late, too weak, lost in the chatter inside the coffee shop.

My mind yells at me to chase after her, but it’s as though my feet are cemented to the floor.

This is what I want, isn’t it? Space?

The bell above the door jingles as Isabelle pushes through it, firm and final. Her retreating figure is the last thing I see of her before she disappears into the hustle and bustle of the city. The heartbroken look on her face is one I’ll never forget, the way she tried to be strong and fight for us, even while I tore us apart.

She didn’t think I was hopeless. I did.

Instead of letting her in, letting her ride the storm with me, I pushed her away, and I gave her proof.

That I’m not good enough for her.

My chest grows tight, like a thick rope wrapping tautly around it, as those thoughts—mixed with the images of Isabelle’s face—loop on repeat in my head.

I rub the center of my chest and suck in a few heavy breaths, feeling completely powerless as my world comes crumbling down for the second time this week.

Chapter Thirty-Six

ISABELLE

After leaving The Daily Brew, I trudge along the crowded sidewalk to the subway station, my eyes puffy and steps heavy, like I’ve forgotten how to walk.

I accidentally bump into someone, who hisses, “Watch it,” and mutter an apology under my breath.

I thought I knew what heartbreak felt like.

When Oliver dumped me, a layer of emptiness wrapped around my body, and I thought I’d never get through it.

But what I felt then isn’t even a fraction of how I’m feeling right now—like someone ripped out my heart, split it open, and shoved it back inside my body.

Even breathing feels more like a chore than a reflex.

Does Jackson not believe that no matter what, I’ll be there for him and that he doesn’t need to be perfect? That he’s not a burden just because he’s going through something and hasn’t got everything figured out?

“I’m a mess, and I can’t be the man you deserve. Not right now.”

He said the words right now, so I want to think he only needs some time and space.