23. Jake
23
JAKE
I sit at the kitchen table, staring at the untouched cup of coffee in front of me, but my mind is stuck upstairs—stuck on the sound of Ellie crying, the way she bolted, the way Samantha followed after her without a single glance back at me.
The excitement of the house has faded as new complications arise.
I should have known this was coming and I should have prepared for it.
Instead, I let myself believe—for just a second—that maybe I could have both . That I could have my career and this life I’ve started building with them. But that’s not how this works. That’s not how it’s ever worked.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling hard.
Then I hear the footsteps.
Sharp. Determined.
I barely have time to push back from the table before Samantha storms in, her eyes flashing with something I’ve never seen directed at me before—anger.
Raw, unfiltered hurt .
My chest tightens .
“We need to talk,” she says, voice clipped. She crosses her arms like she’s trying to hold herself together.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Ellie is upstairs crying her heart out right now,” she snaps. “I can’t commit to whatever this is and Ellie knows you’re leaving, Jake. You just sprung this on me and now she thinks she’ll never see you again and that you’re going to forget about her. Do you have any idea what that’s doing to her?”
I push off the chair. “I’d never forget about her.”
“But you’re still leaving . ”
The accusation lands like a linebacker stacked like a refrigerator.
I brace my hands against the table, breathing through the sharp edge of it. “Sam?—”
“No,” she cuts in, shaking her head. “No, I let this happen. I let you in. And now I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces.”
“That’s not fair.” My voice is rough and strained.
She lets out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Fair? Jake, you knew what this was. I knew what this was. You were always going to leave. You knew you weren’t staying, and you let her love you anyway.”
I feel those words like a knife. I admit I came here intent on winning her heart but in the process, I gained both their hearts, only Ellie is not an adult. I force myself to meet her eyes. “And what about you?”
Her breath hitches, but she masks it quickly.
I take a step closer. “You think this is just about Ellie?” My voice lowers. “You think I don’t see it, Sam?”
She swallows hard, but she doesn’t look away.
I shake my head. “You’re scared.”
She stiffens.
I push forward. “You’re scared because you let me in too. Because this— us —was never part of your plan. ”
She glares at me, defensive. “Don’t pretend like it was part of yours either.”
I run a hand down my face. “Jesus, Sam.”
She keeps going. “You bought a house, Jake.”
I nod, exhaling sharply. “Yeah. I did.”
“In Maine.”
“Yeah.”
She laughs again, but there’s no humor in it. “And what, you were just going to tell us later?”
“I was going to tell you tonight .”
She presses her lips together, looking away.
And for the first time, I see it—the real fear underneath all the anger. The way she’s trying so damn hard to hold herself together because letting herself want this, want me, terrifies her.
Because if she reaches for it if she chooses it, and something happens—if I get hurt again, if I change my mind, if I leave anyway—she’ll be the one left standing alone.
I get it.
I get it .
But I can’t let her believe that this is just another temporary thing for me.
I take another step closer, dropping my voice.
“Come with me.”
She stills.
“What?” she breathes.
I hold her gaze. “Come with me. You and Ellie.”
She blinks, stunned. “Jake?—”
“Just come , ” I interrupt, my voice rough. “See where it goes.”
She’s shaking her head before I even finish. “You don’t know what you’ re asking.”
“Yes, I do.”
She turns away, gripping the edge of the counter like it’s the only thing holding her up.
“It’s safer here,” she whispers.
My stomach clenches. “Safer?”
She nods, still not looking at me. “I know this place. I know how to live here.” She swallows hard. “I know how to be here.”
I exhale slowly, stepping behind her but not touching her. “And you don’t think you could be with me?”
She turns then, her eyes searching mine. “Jake, I don’t belong in your world.”
I frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She lets out a soft, frustrated breath, gesturing vaguely. “Your friends. Your career. The spotlight. I don’t fit into that. You think I don’t know the kind of women you’ve been with?” She shakes her head. “I’m not them, Jake. I’m never going to be them.”
Something inside me cracks.
I grab her hand before she can pull away. “Good,” I say, voice rough. “I don’t want them. I want you.”
She blinks, her throat working in overtime and I swear she might cry.
I squeeze her fingers. “You think I give a damn about any of that? You think I want some perfect, polished version of a life I don’t even care about anymore?” I shake my head. “I want a life that has you in it.”
Her breath hitches.
I search her face. “So, tell me the truth, Sam.” I tighten my grip, my thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Are you really afraid I’ll leave?” My voice drops lower. “Or are you afraid to take a chance on something you want?”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
I see the war in her eyes. The part of her that wants to believe me. The part of her that’s still holding back .
She pulls her hand away.
“I knew this was a mistake,” she whispers.
And fuck , that hurts.
I take a step back, the air is knocked clean out of my lungs.
She presses a hand to her mouth like she can’t believe she just said it.
I nod slowly, my chest tight. “Right.”
“Jake—”
“No, I get it.” I rake a hand through my hair. “You don’t trust this. You don’t trust me to not be like your ex. You’re blaming me for him walking out on you. But isn’t it better it ended? He wasn’t right of you, I am. I’m right here Sam. I’m right in front of you.”
Her face crumbles. “It’s not about him?—”
“Yes, it is.” I shake my head. “You think I’m temporary. And no matter what I say, you don’t believe that I want this. That I want you.”
Tears well in her eyes. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispers.
I breathe out harshly. “Yeah, well, neither do I. But you don’t see me running away. I feel like I’ve been in this relationship by myself. I want to move ahead and you’re content with the status quo. Don’t you want more?”
We stare at each other, both of us hurting, both of us wanting something that feels just out of reach.
She takes a breath, shaky and uneven. “I just—I need time.”
I close my eyes for a second, nodding.
I don’t want to give her time.
I want her to come with me.
But I can’t make her choose me or my life. I’m gutted. I should have known she wasn't ready for what we had. She’s been dragging her heels and honestly, I’m tired of arguing for something I want when it’s clear to me that she doesn’t want the same thing
I look at her one more time before stepping back. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
She nods.
I exhale, walk upstairs, and quickly pack my bag.
And I pray like hell that when she does decide, she chooses me and us. I have a job to do and I’ll miss her and Ellie like hell. But these are the big decisions in life that define us and if she can’t own up to how she feels, then we’re doomed anyway. I’m too old to invest in a dead-end relationship.