Page 102 of The Jealous Girl

Ryan shook his head. ‘She must have been thrown,’ he said, repeating what he’d told me on the phone.

‘From Atlas?’

‘Yeah.’ Ryan ran his hand through his hair. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

There was something strangely comforting hearing him acknowledge that. And yet it didn’t change anything.

‘I guess you just never know what might happen,’ Ryan said.

Something within me tightened.

His words sounded strangely detached. Almost dismissive.

Charlotte had died. His girlfriend. The woman he’d once planned a future with. And yet… Instead of being crushed beneath grief, he seemed lighter somehow. And I couldn’t ignore the shift between us.

He was here. With me. That had to mean something. Didn’t it?

I could almost let myself believe the last five days hadn’t happened. That Ryan had never left. Almost.

He was acting as though he belonged here. Familiar. Comfortable. In the place he’d stormed out of.

He reached for my hand. My gaze dropped and I stared at his fingers intertwined with mine. It felt like it had before.

Before he left me.

Before he chose her.

I pulled my hand free and stood up. ‘Why are you here?’

Ryan blinked as his hand dropped to the sofa. ‘I needed to see you. I missed you.’

‘You left me,’ I reminded him, unable to keep the accusatory tone from my words.

‘It was a mistake,’ he said without hesitation.

‘It wasn’t a mistake yesterday.’

‘That was…’ Ryan shrugged helplessly.

I turned my back to him, the action taking all my strength. It would be so easy to fall into his arms, tell him how much I still loved him. Tell him nothing else mattered.

But it did. Maybe not to him. But to me.

‘You’re in shock,’ I said quietly. ‘Losing Charlotte so suddenly. So unexpectedly⁠—’

‘You’re wrong.’ Ryan’s voice was adamant and fiery.

‘You’re not thinking straight right now,’ I said, keeping my back to him.

‘This isn’t about her,’ he said, placing his hands on my shoulders and pivoting me to face him. ‘It should never have been about her.’ His eyes met mine and I felt myself drawn into his gaze. ‘But she’s gone now.’

36

THEN

Mid August

I slid the card out of the envelope.