Chapter 33 JACE #2
“You disappear into your own head when things get bad.”
He’s quiet for a second.
“Can you stand there and tell me she wouldn’t be better off with someone else?”
I look away.
Because that’s the one question I don’t have a clean answer to.
When he speaks again, his voice is rough.
“You were the only person on earth I trusted with her.”
I can’t look at him.
Then he says, very quietly, “I need you to go home, Jace.”
“Daws—”
“I can’t look at you right now.”
I hold his eyes. He holds mine.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
There it is.
Not just anger. Damage.
Fifteen years of trust standing between us on his parents’ back patio.
I have known this man longer than almost anyone. And I broke the one rule he ever gave me.
There’s nothing left to say.
He goes back inside.
I stay on the patio while guilt claws up my throat.
Then I go after the woman I love.
* * *
Her old bedroom door is cracked open at the end of the hall. Light spills across the hardwood.
I push it open. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and she stands the second she sees me.
Hope flashes across her face so fast it almost kills me.
Then she sees my expression.
The hope disappears.
“Oh my god.”
I stand there looking at her, my chest tight enough it hurts to breathe.
Five minutes ago she walked out of that kitchen believing I would fight for us.
Now I’m standing in her bedroom looking like a man who’s about to break her heart.
“What happened?”
I shut the door behind me quietly.
She’s already shaking her head, backing away from whatever she sees on my face.
“What did he say?”
I drag a hand over my jaw hard enough it hurts.
“He’s angry.”
“No shit, Jace. What did he say?”
I look away.
“No.”
I move toward her anyway because every instinct in me still goes straight to her. Flushed from crying.
“He thinks I crossed a line.”
“You did cross a line.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Downstairs, dishes clink softly in the kitchen. Her mother laughs faintly. Normal life happening one floor below while mine splits open up here.
“He thinks…” My throat works. “Maybe I’m not good for you.”
Silence.
Her face crumples like I hit her.
“No, you do not get to do this to me right now.”
“Lower your voice.”
“Oh, now you’re worried about people hearing?”
“Wren.”
“What the fuck is this?” Tears spill over, angry and bright. “Ten minutes ago you were touching me in the kitchen like I was the center of your world, and now my brother talks to you for five minutes and you’re backing away from me?”
“I’m trying to think clearly.”
“You said you loved me.” Her voice breaks completely on loved . “You said it like you meant it.”
“I did.”
“Then why are you standing over there acting like loving me is some mistake you need to fix?”
“You think hearing him call it betrayal doesn’t get into my head?” I snap. “You think I don’t hear him every time I look at you now?”
“There it is.”
“Wren—”
“You’re pulling away from me.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
Her laugh is shattered. Furious.
“There it fucking is.”
I go still.
“I spent two years with a man deciding what was best for me.” Her voice shakes. “What I should wear. Where I should go. Who I should be with. And every single time he told me it was because he loved me.”
Ice slides into my chest.
“Do not compare me to Tyler.”
“Then stop sounding like him.”
Jesus Christ.
The room goes dead silent.
We’re standing too close. Both breathing hard. I can smell her perfume. Feel the heat coming off her skin. Every part of me wants to grab her and kiss her and tell her none of this changes anything.
I force my hands to stay at my sides.
And she sees that too.
“So that’s it?” she whispers.
I shut my eyes for half a second.
“Maybe we need some space.”
She looks at me like I just reached into her chest and tore something out.
“I hate you right now.”
She grabs her purse off the chair.
“Wren—”
She shoves past me hard enough her shoulder catches my chest and the bedroom door slams behind her.
I’m standing alone in the middle of her childhood bedroom feeling like I just destroyed the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I stare at the closed door too long.
My pulse is still hammering. The room is too hot. Too small. Too full of her.
I drag both hands over my face and sit down hard on the edge of the bed.
A framed photo of her and Dawson at high school graduation sits on the bookshelf. Another of her with Susan in front of the flower shop opening.
I stare at them without really seeing them.
Maybe he’s right.
The thought makes me sick.
Because I love her. I love her enough that the idea of ruining her life feels worse than losing her.
I push to my feet and head downstairs. The kitchen’s quieter now — Susan at the sink, Tom drying his hands. Dawson’s gone.
Nobody looks up when I walk in.
I glance toward the foyer.
Empty.
Something’s off.
“Where’s Wren?”
Susan turns around. “She went home, honey.”
I stop moving.
“What?”
“She said she wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t want to pull you away — told us to let you two finish your beers.” Susan dries her hands.
Tom looks over at me then, finally hearing something in my voice.
“She left maybe five minutes ago,” he says. “Uber got here fast.”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
“You let her leave alone?”
The second the words leave my mouth I regret them.
Tom’s brows pull together. “Jace.”
Right.
They don’t know. None of them know.
I pull my phone out and call her.
Straight to voicemail.
I call again.
Straight to voicemail.
Everything in me goes still.
Tom’s watching me closely now.
“What’s going on?”
I don’t answer.
I’m already moving toward the front door.
The drive back across the bridge is the longest twenty-five minutes of my life.
I don’t turn the radio on. I just drive.
She’s going back to my place. She’s pissed at me and she wants space and she’s going to be sitting on my couch waiting to ream me out when I walk in. That’s what I tell myself the entire way across the Brooklyn Bridge.
I pull into the underground garage, park, and take the elevator up to forty-two.
The penthouse is dark. I stand in the foyer before I turn the lights on.
Wrong. Too quiet. She’s not here.
She didn’t come here at all.
I call her. Straight to voicemail. I call again and it doesn’t even ring.
I’m cold all over.
I call Ryker.
“I need a team up. Now.”
“Boss—”
“Wren left her parents’ an hour ago alone in an Uber. She’s not at the penthouse. I don’t know where she is. I want eyes on Tyler now.”
“On it.”
I hang up.
I’m walking back to the elevator when my phone rings.
I look at the screen.
Wren.
Relief almost knocks the breath out of me.
I answer before the second ring.
“Wren—”
Her breathing is ragged on the other end.
“Jace.”
Everything in me goes still.
“Baby. Where are you?”
“I—” Her voice shakes hard. “He’s here.”
“Who?”
But I already know.
“Tyler—” Her voice drops to a whisper. “He was in my—”
Then a man’s voice behind her. Closer than it should be.
“Who are you calling, Wren?”
“Wren.” I keep my voice level. “Stay with me. Don’t hang up.”
“Jace—”
“Hang up the phone.” Tyler’s voice. Close to her now.
She sucks in a breath.
The line goes dead.
Then I’m moving fast.
And just like that, the guilt disappears.
Only the soldier is left.