Chapter 7 #2
I lift one eyebrow and open the lid just enough for the warm, buttery, cinnamon-sugar smell to roll out like a siren song.
Her nostrils flare.
But she schools her expression fast. “Nope. Nope. Absolutely not.”
She shuts the door in my face.
I stare at the wood.
I knock again.
Nothing.
A third time.
The door cracks open an inch.
Her eyes narrow. “Leo.”
“Susan.”
“You’re persistent.”
“You’re home,” I say. “And Jade’s not. The neighbor said last night—”
“She’s not here,” she cuts in.
“Good,” I say, surprising even myself. “Because I didn’t come here for her today.”
She opens the door fully now, arms crossed, expression unconvinced.
“Oh? Then why are you on my porch with pastries worth more than my electric bill?”
I swallow hard.
“I came,” I say quietly, “to talk to you.”
The wind blows between us, cold and sharp.
She studies me for a long second — searching my face, my eyes, maybe the sincerity behind whatever the hell I am right now.
Then she steps back.
Not enough to let me in.
But enough to let me speak.
And for the first time, I feel like I might actually get a chance to make things right.
Susan’s kitchen feels too clean, too bright, too judgmental.
She stands across from me like she’s interrogating a suspect in a police lineup. Arms folded. Chin tilted. Eyes sharp.
“What do you want, Leo?”
No warmth. No opening.
Just the question she intends to gut me with.
I swallow. “When you were gone… I—”
I stop, regroup. “I’m worried about you. About Jade. About everything.”
She doesn’t blink. “Why?”
“Because just because you guys unplugged doesn’t mean anything’s died down here.”
I rub the back of my neck. “The girls aren’t talking. No one’s getting in trouble. All their credit cards are clean. Their phones are clean.”
Susan snorts. “Of course they are. They always get away with things, don’t they?”
The bitterness in her voice hits harder than the words.
“I’m working on something,” I say. “I just can’t… say it yet.”
“I don’t care what you’re working on.” She waves a hand like my existence is an inconvenience. “I can’t support you trying to win my niece back. She needs to focus on college. She needs stability. Her future’s already being shaken.”
I flinch. She keeps going.
“Doors are starting to shut that should still be open to her. No university wants to recruit drama. Even if she didn’t cause it, her name is now attached to chaos.”
A slow curse scrapes out of my throat. “I’m going to fix this.”
She cuts me off fast.
“Stop. The more you try to ‘fix’ things, the messier it becomes.”
I clench my fists.
Hard.
So hard my knuckles crack.
“You need a gate,” I say quietly. “You need privacy hedges. You need cameras. This place is too exposed. Someone threw a rock through your window while you were gone. I—”
“I know what I need, Leo.”
Her tone sharpens. “Thank you for reminding me of everything I’ve neglected.”
Her mouth softens for the first time. Just a little.
“It was just me and the cats. Then Jade came and brought color back into this house.”
She looks me dead in the eyes.
“But I’m family. You’re not. I know what’s best for her.”
That one lands deep.
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” she finishes. “Before Jade finds out you’re—”
“It’s too late for that,” a voice says behind her.
Susan stiffens.
My heart stops.
Then kicks so hard I swear it rattles the floor.
Jade steps into the doorway.
Hair windblown from the cold.
Cheeks flushed pink.
Leggings hugging her legs, the leather jacket half-zipped.
She looks like winter and fire stitched together.
My blood heats so fast I almost sway.
The air between us crackles.
Heat. Anger. Lust.
Confusion. Hurt.
Love so raw it feels like a wound that won’t close.
Her eyes lock on mine.
I feel it in my bones.
This isn’t Jade-from-before.
This is someone reborn.
Sharper. Harder. Hotter.
I want her.
I want answers.
I want everything.
Susan steps aside slowly, sensing the shift, the energy thick enough to choke on.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t move.
All I can do is stare at the girl who ruined me
and the girl I ruined
and the girl I still, somehow, stupidly, devastatingly love.
“Jade,” I breathe.
The wind-flushed cheeks. Tight leggings. Hair wild from the run.
She looks like something carved out of ice and fire, and my heart just… slams against my ribs.
Susan stiffens instantly, like she knows what’s coming.
Jade doesn’t even look at her.
“Out back,” she says. Not loud, but sharp enough to cut metal.
Her eyes flick to mine. “Now.”
I follow her through the sliding door.
Cold air hits my face. Doesn’t matter. I’m already burning.
She stops in the center of the yard and spins on me so fast I almost recoil.
“Say whatever the hell you came here to say so you can leave.”
Her voice is pure blade.
I take a breath. “I’m trying to fix this.”
She laughs. Bitter. Cruel. Not her laugh.
But maybe it is now.
“Fix it? You made it worse, Leo. You always make it worse.”
The words land like a punch.
“I didn’t know they were going to slime you, Jade. I didn’t know they were—”
“Stop.” She slices the air with her hand. “Don’t tell me what you didn’t know. You broke up with me. You left me alone. You made me a target.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By destroying me?” she snaps. “By isolating me? By letting them—”
“I didn’t let anything happen,” I bite out. “I tried—”
“You didn’t try hard enough.”
That hurts.
More than I want to admit.
“And then,” she says, stepping closer, eyes locked on mine, “you show up with muffins like guilt can be baked away?”
Okay, fair, but still—
“I’m here for you,” I say quietly.
Her expression shutters.
Something flickers in her eyes.
Anger. Pain. Something else I can’t name.
“You don’t get to say that.”
“Why? Because it’s true?”
She scoffs. “You think truth fixes anything?”
I step closer. “No. But maybe listening will.”
She doesn’t move, but the tension spikes.
“You’re afraid to hear me out,” I say.
Her chin lifts. “I’m not afraid.”
“You’re running.”
The way she tenses tells me I hit something real.
“Running?” she repeats, voice low. “You think that’s what this is?”
“You left, Jade.”
“You drove me away.”
The words knock the breath out of my chest.
I step closer until there’s barely air between us.
“How the hell are we supposed to fix anything,” I say, “when you keep sprinting in every direction but toward me?”
Her breath catches.
I keep going. I can’t stop.
“Stop running, Jade.”
Her jaw tightens so hard I see the muscle jump.
She shoves my chest. “I’m not running. I’m surviving.”
I let her shove me.
I deserve worse.
“And I’m trying to help you survive,” I say. “But you won’t even give me the chance.”
She goes to shove me again and I catch her wrists, gently, carefully, like she’s glass and I’m already cracked.
“Tell me how to fix it,” I whisper. “Tell me what to do.”
Her eyes shine. She blinks fast, furious with herself for it.
“You can’t fix it,” she says. “You can’t undo what you did.”
“I can try.”
“It’s too late.”
“No. It isn’t.”
I lean in without touching her. Just close enough to feel her shake in the cold.
She whispers, “Don’t you dare kiss me.”
The warning hits like a bucket of ice water.
I freeze.
Every cell in my body screaming to close the inches between us.
She steps back.
“This isn’t the old Jade,” she says. “The one who forgave everything. The one who believed everything you said.”
My throat closes.
She walks toward the house, not looking back.
“This new Jade?” she throws over her shoulder. “She doesn’t run. And she doesn’t break.”
The door slams behind her.
I stand in the cold, fists clenched, chest burning.
I want to scream.
Punch something.
Kiss her.
Shake her.
Hold her.
All of it. None of it.
I drag my hands through my hair, breathing hard.
“This isn’t over,” I mutter.
This time it’s a vow.
Not a hope.
A promise.