Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I slam the laptop shut and pace the cabin like an animal caught in a trap.
One more day. That’s all I have. Just one more day, and my rental here is done. No more hiding behind the snow. No more pretending the storm is what kept me inside.
It’s just me now. Me and this damn book, and my heart that’s breaking all over again.
I need to finish it, that much is clear.
I have to.
My phone buzzes, and hope lifts in my chest. I check the screen, but it’s not the man I wish would reach out to me.
Text after text after fucking text comes in.
Jake.
Jake
Emma, where are you?
Emma, I need you.
Emma, I’m sorry.
I feel sick just reading the messages, knowing I’m really not who he needs at all, and he doesn’t mean any of this. He can’t stand knowing someone doesn’t worship the ground he walks on and wants to make things right to save face. Jake is toxic. I know that now.
I wouldn’t admit this to Owen right this second, but maybe he was right to block Jake.
Maybe I needed someone else to draw the boundary I couldn’t.
Goddamn it. My chest aches. I need to get over this.
Then the last message comes in.
Sent an hour ago.
Jake
I’m on my way. We have to talk
My stomach drops. How the hell does he know where I am? I booked the cabin with my own card. Of course, it wouldn’t take a genius to trace it.
He found me.
Jake is here.
Panic spikes, sharp and hot. What am I going to do? I don’t want to see him.
There’s a sharp bang at the door, and for one crazy moment, I imagine it’s Owen—big, solid, and steady.
Protective.
But when I glance out the window, I see black hair and a familiar brown coat.
Jake. That fucking loser.
I yank the door open. He stands there, shivering, looking like he’s about to freeze his skinny little ass off in the middle of nowhere.
“What are you doing here?” I snap.
“I came to find you,” he snaps back. “You’re my wife.”
“Was your wife.” I shake my head, sick to my stomach.
“Go away, Jake. I don’t want you here. You’re not welcome,” I spit. “You don’t get to show up like this.”
I move to slam the door—but his hand shoots out, forcing it open. I stumble back.
Jake’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
I look down. I’m still wearing Owen’s hoodie, still warm from his body.
“None of your goddamn business. I said get the hell out of here!” I scream. But of course, he marches in.
Fucking narcissist, always thought the world owed him something.
My fingers tremble as I pick up my phone. I might have questions about Owen, about what he does, but I don’t have any questions about this.
I want him here.
Now.
I type fast.
Jake is here. Please come.
Just as I hit send, Jake lunges and snatches the phone out of my hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shout. “Give me that. You can’t just—”
His eyes are wild. “Watch me. You made a mockery of me, Emma.”
“You cheated on me,” I say. “Own it. How am I the bad guy in this scenario? ”
Jake shoves me. I trip backward, landing hard on the couch. He’s never done that before, never touched me in anger.
This isn’t the Jake I knew. Or maybe it is. Maybe this is who he’s always been, and he just hid it really well.
“You don’t get to leave me, Emma. Not after everything I gave up.”
“Everything you gave up? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I need money,” he screams. “And you have it.”
“Me?”
I laugh, bitter and cold. “You burn through money faster than you can steal it. I don’t owe you shit.”
He takes a step closer.
“I’ll see you in court.”
“You’re delusional.”
His hand rises, and I don’t have time to back away. I’m still in shock when the slap lands sharp across my face.
My jaw jerks sideways, skin stinging, eyes burning. I freeze. I don’t even cry… just stare.
Until I hear it, low, dangerous, unmistakable.
“Did you just fucking raise your hand to her?”
Owen.
He must’ve run. It’s barely been minutes since I sent the message.
He stands in the doorway—not a man, an executioner.
Jake turns, sees him, and blanches. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He looks between us. He sees my face, sees the hoodie, sees the truth.
“You came here to be with him?” Jake snarls, then turns to Owen. “You sick bastard.”
Owen’s eyes swivel to me. “Say the word, Emma.”
The words come fast and furious. “Do whatever you want to him.”
“You’re both fucked—”
Owen’s fist cuts him off. One clean hit. Jake’s head snaps back.
“Owen!” I scream.
I know Jake deserves it, but Owen’s twice his size. He could kill him.
Another punch. This one lands in Jake’s gut.
“You fuckin’ slapped her?” Owen growls. “You fucking son of a gobshite.” He kicks him… hard.