Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Jordan
I wake up in Forge’s arms, and regret slams into me before I open my eyes.
The morning light filtering through his bedroom window feels too bright, too cheerful for the panic clawing its way up my throat. His arm is a warm, unwelcome weight across my waist. All I can think is: How could I be so weak?
The realization hits me like ice water: I’ve done it again.
Fallen too fast, trusted too quickly, let someone past my carefully constructed walls before I even knew who they really were.
The scene plays on repeat in my mind: me, completely wrecked beneath him, telling him it was perfect, agreeing when he said what we had wasn’t just physical.
Oh my God, did I really wholeheartedly say, “Yours. All yours.”?
We’ve known each other for less than forty-eight hours, and I was ready to give him my whole heart. What is wrong with me?
I slide out of bed carefully, trying not to wake him, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Every rational thought I’ve had about relationships, every lesson I learned from David’s betrayal, every promise I made to myself about taking things slow (if I ever take them at all)—gone.
Obliterated in a single night by amber eyes and gentle hands and the way he made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.
I find my bra on the bedside table and my ruined panties on his bedroom floor, so I leave them there. I gather the rest of my clothes from the kitchen and find my purse by the front door where I’d dropped it in my… enthusiasm last night.
In the bathroom, I look exactly like what I am: a woman who’s made a terrible mistake. Hair tangled, lips swollen, yesterday’s clothes announcing every bad decision like an above-the-fold headline.
What terrifies me is how perfectly natural it felt to fall asleep in his arms, to feel safe and…
claimed. Like I belonged somewhere. That’s exactly the kind of thinking that got me married to David after six months of dating.
This intensity, this “instant connection”—it’s a warning sign, not a fairy tale.
I swore I’d never fall this fast again. Or… ever. I never want another divorce decree with my name on it.
I return to the bedroom to grab my panties. The last thing I want to do is leave… evidence. Forge is awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with concern written across his handsome features.
“Morning,” he says softly, his voice still rough with sleep. “You okay?”
How can he read my emotions so easily? Especially when we’ve known each other for such a short time.
The gentleness in his tone almost breaks my resolve.
Almost. But then I remember David’s voice filled with affection on dozens of mornings, right before he went to work and forgot I existed until he needed something from me.
“I need to go,” I say, not meeting his eyes as I turn to grab my shoes from the living room.
“Hey.” He sits up, the sheet pooling around his waist. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
“I shouldn’t have let this happen. It was a mistake.
” The words come out sharp, staccato, as I turn to face him.
They weren’t meant to be harsh, but maybe that’s better.
Cleaner. “Last night… we got caught up in the moment, but we barely know each other. Literally—we’ve had one coffee date.
This is the kind of mistake I swore I’d never repeat. Ever.”
I can see the confusion and hurt flickering across his features, but I push forward before I lose my nerve.
“You’re a good man, I mean male, Forge. You deserve someone who can give you what you’re looking for. But that’s not me. I’m not ready for this. I doubt I ever will be.”
“Jordan, wait—”
“No.” I force myself to look at him then, to see the damage I’m causing.
“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.
Last night was… it was wonderful. It was the most intense, incredible night of my life, and that’s what scares me.
I don’t trust feelings this strong after knowing someone for two days.
It can never happen again.” That last sentence was said with all the vehemence I could muster.
He’s quiet for a long moment, studying my face like he’s trying to read a language he doesn’t understand. When he speaks, his voice is carefully controlled.
“Is this about your ex-husband?”
The question hits close to home, and I flinch. “This is about me knowing my own limitations. You and I want different things.”
“What is it you think I want?”
“Something I can’t give you.” I fist my trembling hands at my sides.
“Then what was this?” There’s an edge to his voice now, hurt bleeding through his measured restraint as he points to the bed with a swipe. “Just a hookup? Because that’s not how it felt to me.”
It didn’t feel like that to me either, I want to say. More like something I’ve been searching for my entire life. Everything I’ve been afraid to want. But that’s exactly the problem. Instead, I remain silent.
His voice cracks on the next words, quiet but devastating. “Jordan, this sure didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, and flee his apartment like the coward I am.
When I get home, I stumble over the threshold, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and lean against the closed door.
David’s voice echoes in my head: “You’ll never put anyone before your work.” Maybe he was right. Maybe I’m incapable of the kind of balance a relationship needs.
The worst part is, David said it to hurt me. But Forge? Forge looked at me like I was something precious, something worth protecting, and I still ran.
I push off from the door and head straight for my home office. If I’m going to be alone, at least I can be productive.
Three hours later, I’m sitting at my desk, still wearing yesterday’s dress, staring at my phone as it buzzes with his messages.
Forge: Are you okay? We should talk about what happened.
Forge: Jordan, please. I know you’re scared, but we can work through this.
Forge: I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.
Each message is patient and understanding, everything I don’t deserve after the way I just gutted him.
Which only makes this whole situation worse, because a lesser man would have called me crazy and moved on by now.
But not Forge. No, he has to be perfect and patient and exactly the kind of man I dreamed of before I was hurt and betrayed and decided to guard my heart forever.
The knock on my door comes at exactly 10:00 AM, followed immediately by the jingle of keys and Riley’s voice. “I’m coming in, and I’m bringing coffee that doesn’t suck!”
I don’t even have the energy to tell her to go away. When I meet her near the front door, she’s dressed like an avenging angel in designer workout clothes, carrying a couple of coffees from Maxx’s downtown and wearing the expression that means she’s prepared for an intervention.
“You look like hell,” she announces, setting the coffee on my counter and taking in my appearance—yesterday’s dress wrinkled beyond salvation, smeared mascara, hair that looks like I’ve been thoroughly fucked. Which I have.
“Good morning to you, too,” I mutter, avoiding her eyes.
“Don’t you ‘good morning’ me. I’ve been texting you since six last night.
You had a coffee date yesterday morning and have been radio silent since then.
Where have you been for the last twenty-four hours?
That’s not like you. I was an hour away from filing a missing person’s report.
” She pulls out the chair across from me and sits down with the kind of determination that suggests she’s not leaving until she gets answers.
The concern in her voice almost breaks me.
Riley has been my rock through every disaster in my adult life—my parents’ divorce, law school stress, my marriage imploding, and the aftermath of David’s betrayal.
She’s seen me at my absolute worst and somehow still shows up with coffee and unconditional support.
“I slept with him,” I say flatly, the words falling into the kitchen like stones into still water.
Riley’s eyebrows shoot up, but to her credit, she doesn’t immediately launch into commentary. “Okay. And?”
“And I probably shouldn’t even mention it was the best sex of my life. By far.” I avoid her eyes as I force out the rest of the story like word vomit. “This morning, I panicked and told him it was a mistake, that we barely know each other. I basically burned everything to the ground.”
Finally, I look at her, not surprised to see the total shock in her expression. “I had a complete meltdown about how fast everything was moving and ended things before they could really begin.”
“Oh, honey.” Riley’s voice goes soft with sympathy, which somehow makes this worse. “What happened? You seemed so happy about your little cooking debacle and your upcoming coffee date.”
“I was happy. That’s the problem.” I set my phone face down and reach for the coffee.
“I was relaxed, falling for him faster than I’ve ever fallen for anyone, and it terrified me.
We’ve barely spent any real time together, but lying in his arms felt…
right. Too right. So I did what I always do when I’m scared—I pulled away first.
Riley studies my face with the careful attention she usually reserves for legal briefs. “This is about David, isn’t it?”
“Everything is about David,” I admit. “That’s exactly what scares me. That’s what scares me. What if I’m confusing intensity with connection again?”
“What if you’re not wrong?” Riley challenges. “What if this time is different, and you’re throwing it away because you’re too scared to find out? Look, I get that the timeline is crazy. But maybe that’s exactly what makes it meaningful.”
She pauses, then shrugs. “Or maybe it really is just new-relationship energy and incredible sex. So what? Why not enjoy the ride until it plays itself out? You’ve been miserable and celibate for eighteen months. Maybe you deserve some fun.”
“But what if I get attached, and then it falls apart?”
“What if you don’t get attached and miss out on something real?”
I bury my face in my hands, the weight of the morning pressing down on me.
When I look up, Riley grabs my phone in the way only a best friend would have the nerve to do.
“Looks like that handsome orc was texting you all morning, worried about you. That’s not the behavior of someone who was just looking for a hookup. ”
“What if I’ve already ruined it? What if he decides I’m too much drama and moves on?”
“Then you’ll survive it, the same way you survived David. But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s the kind of man who fights for what he wants?”
I look down at my phone again, at his patient messages waiting for a response.
The rational part of my brain knows Riley is right—I’m reacting out of fear, not logic.
But the scared part of me, the part that still bears the scars from David’s betrayal, whispers that it’s better to be alone than to risk that kind of pain again.
“I told him I wasn’t ready,” I say quietly. “And maybe that’s true… or maybe it’s just safer than trying.”
“Are you? Ready?”
“I don’t know.” I meet her eyes, feeling younger and more vulnerable than I have in years. “Two days ago, I wasn’t even ready to have a date. Now I’ve gone and…” I clap my lips together before I say the words, “caught feelings for him.”
Riley’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut.
“And I… basically told him I was falling for him… before I ran out this morning. This is terrifying.”
Riley is quiet for a moment, then stands and moves around the table to hug me. “You don’t have to decide everything right now,” she starts, but I cut her off.
“Actually, I do. And I have.” Pulling back from her embrace, I keep my voice steady with newfound certainty. “I’m not calling him. He deserves someone who can meet him halfway, not someone afraid to commit.”
Riley’s face falls. “Jordan—”
“No. This isn’t right for me. I’m not someone who throws caution to the wind after two days. I’m methodical, careful, and I don’t rebuild my life on impulse—no matter how tempting.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Maybe. But it’s my mistake to make.” I meet her eyes steadily. “He’s a good male, Riley. He deserves someone who can give him her whole heart without reservation. That’s not me.”
Riley is quiet for a long moment, then gathers our empty coffee cups with obvious reluctance. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do. For the first time in days, I actually do.”
After she leaves—working overtime to cover for a colleague—I sit alone in my kitchen, staring at Forge’s messages. Each one is patient, understanding, everything he thinks I need. But I don’t respond. I won’t respond.
This is the right choice. The smart choice. The choice that protects us both from the inevitable disappointment when the intensity fades and we’re just two people who barely know each other.
I delete his contact information and turn off my phone.