Page 212 of His Reckoning

The late nights and stupid arguments. The way he’d look at me like I was slightly insane, but somehow still worth dealing with. The way he’d pull me closer without thinking when I fell asleep.

The way everything felt … steady when I was with him …

It’s gone because of me.

I swallow hard, blinking against the sudden burn in my eyes.

I don’t cry easily—I never have. But this? This feels different. The kind of hurt that doesn’t explode.

It just sits there.

I let out a slow breath and push myself upright again. Sitting here isn’t fixing anything. Nothing is.

I reach for my phone without really thinking and scroll through my messages, stopping on his name.

My thumb hovers over it, just for a second.

I could text him. Explain again. Beg and plead for his forgiveness.

I lower my hand slowly, locking the screen and setting the phone back down. Chasing him right now won’t change what he believes.

That settles in slowly and painfully … but clearly.

I lean back again, staring out at the darkening room. Now there’s nothing left to distract from it.

No writing. No plan. No next step.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t know what comes next.

But I do know one thing.

If I had to choose again—the book or him—I’d still choose him.

Every time.

Even if it means I never get him back.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Sawyer

Isee her before she sees me. I’m parked half a block down from Melissa and Colton’s place, staring at my phone like I’m doing something useful, when I spot her crossing the street.

I go completely still. For a second, I just sit here, watching through the windshield as she gets out.

The first thing that hits me is how tired she looks. Not just physically, though there’s that too.

Her shoulders slope in a way I’ve never seen before. Her movements are slower, as if whatever spark she usually carries around with her got buried under something she hasn’t figured out how to shake.

While she walks toward the building, her eyes lift straight to me. For one suspended second, we just look at each other across the street.

No traffic or noise between us. Just that impossible, awful moment where I can see the exact instant she realizes it’s me.

Her face doesn’t brighten. She doesn’t do anything except go still, and then she looks away. Turns back toward the building and keeps walking with no hesitation. No sign that she expects me to follow.

It hits like a punch to the gut because now I know exactly what that means. She thinks I don’t want her. She thinks after everything, I still came here without planning to fight for her.

I get out of the car without thinking and take two steps toward the sidewalk before I stop. Chasing her up the walk right now would be about me and soothing my own guilt. Fixing the look on her face. Stopping the sharp, sick feeling rising in my chest because I finally understand what I did to her.