There’s Something Wrong with Jordie Mitchell

PROLOGUE

JORDIE MITCHELL

Duck—check.

Ten million other ingredients for Duck à l’Orange—check.

Strappy emerald-green lace lingerie that requires an engineering degree to put on—check.

Before pulling out of the lot, I glance at the passenger seat, where the matching lacy deathtrap sits in its tiny boutique bag, nestled between groceries and wine. It’s ridiculous. Completely impractical.

But I want to do this for Alec. Because he deserves it. Because I do, too.

My fingers drift to my necklace—a habit now for a year, the way some people toy with their rings or adjust their watches. I trace the infinity heart pendant, its tiny diamonds catching against my skin.

Atherton Tablelands. The surprise trip. The rainforest cabin. The hikes we never finished. Alec’s fingers traced lazy circles on my hip while rain hit the tin roof. The way he fastened this necklace around my throat, his breath warm against my skin.

I laughed when he gave it to me—this soft, thoughtful, too-much gesture—while I, in return, brought . . . “coupons.”

He flipped through the homemade book, grinning. “Pick the movie on date night? Free massage?” He shot me a look. “Ooh, this one’s bold. Reenact a spicy scene from a book?”

I groaned. Loudly.

“Jordie. Babe. I love this.” He kissed me deep, the kind of kiss that rewrites all your previous ones.

Then he turned to the last page.

One Free Pass: Leave, No Questions Asked.

I looked at him, earnest, and whispered, “In case you ever change your mind . . . about us.”

His smile faded. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes before he tore the coupon in half, crumpled it, and tossed it in the bin.

“I’ll always choose you,” he said into my mouth.

Then, as if on cue, a sharp pang bloomed in my stomach. A tightening that wouldn’t ease. A warmth I realized, too late, wasn’t his hands on my skin—but something wrong.

We left the next morning, cutting the trip short.

“We can come back,” Alec whispered, fingers laced around mine.

We never did.

Now, the infinity heart glints in the rearview mirror as I pull into the driveway. I allow it to slip from my fingers, kill the engine, and grab the bags.

By the time I nudge the front door open, I’m fully committed to the struggle because I’d rather dislocate both shoulders than take two trips to the car. I hike the bags further up my arms, toe off my shoes, and lob my keys toward the bowl on the hallway table.

Miss.

They clatter to the floor.

“Jordie?” Alec’s voice is soft, almost cautious.

“Babe, you are going to love—” I grunt, bending to grab the keys while juggling everything. I glance up—

And the words die in my throat. The bags slip from my fingers, thudding against the floor.

Alec stands in the middle of the room, suitcases lined up beside him. His shoulders slump. His expression is a mess of regret and sadness. Something that lands harder than any words he hasn’t said. Something final.

He pulls a crumpled, coffee-stained piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to me. My breath catches as I run my thumb over the worn, familiar edges of the coupon that’s been taped back together where he once tore it in half.

The same one he threw away last year. Or so I thought.

I stare at it, heart stumbling. The distance. The unraveling. Maybe this is what it was all leading to. Like he made a promise to stay, then kept the exit strategy just in case.

And now it’s all splintering inside me: the ache, the betrayal, the collapsed little corner where I once kept beautiful words like love and home and certainty.

Alec’s voice is quiet. “Jordie, you can ask me. Anything.”

There are a million questions fighting for space. How long have you felt this way? Was there one single moment where everything shifted? When did I stop being enough?

But only one pushes its way out. “Is there someone else?”

He flinches. “No. Not physically.”

My stomach lurches.

“But there’s been someone. Someone I’ve connected with.”

Not a one-time thing. Not a lapse in judgment. But something deeper, slower. Something he nurtured.

I close my eyes, swallowing around the cavern his admission left behind.

Alec lifts a hand toward my cheek but stops midway, like he’s unsure if he still has the right. “Jordie, I love you, but . . .”

The words dissolve.

I nod, numb. “Okay.”

Alec lingers. Just long enough for me to wonder if he’s hoping I’ll stop him. Then, with a heavy exhale, he turns and walks out. The door clicks shut. Final. Absolute.

I sink onto the couch, body folding in on itself. My fingers brush the necklace. Suddenly, it feels wrong. Heavy. Burning.

Fumbling with the clasp, I let it fall to the floor. The infinity loop gleams mockingly.

I press my palms to my face, willing the tears to stay put. They don’t. They come hot, messy, relentless.

Through the blur, my fingers fumble for my phone. I find my best friend’s name, sharp against the haze. I hit call.

“Jords?”

“Leith.” His name splinters on my tongue, voice breaking in places I can’t patch up. “Alec’s gone.”

A rustle of keys.

“I’m on my way.”