Page 142 of A Perfect Fit

But what if … it’s not only about that?

Heaviness settles in my chest, like a rock.

Jackson promised he’d be there to catch me if I took a leap of faith. And he did. But as soon as a storm came, he pushed me away.

“You should go.”

The harsh tone in his voice when he said those last three words is one I can still hear vividly in my head.

Maybe he doesn’t trust me enough to lean on me while he’s going through something difficult, or maybe he doesn’t think I’m strong enough to handle it. I don’t know which hits harder, hurts more.

Or maybe I don’t deserve to be in a relationship. I mean, I’ve only had two relationships, and both ended in me being broken up with.

The green-painted iron railings of the subway station entrance come into view, and I walk down the stairs with my shoulders hunched, my thoughts playing like a tormenting loop in my head.

As I wait for the next train, my phone dings with a new text, and I pull it out to check it, a tiny glimmer of hope flickering in my chest in case it’s from Jackson—in case he’s changed his mind about what he said at The Daily Brew, about us.

Except it’s only some dodgy message, prompting me to pay an unpaid parking ticket.

Stupid scammers. I don’t even have a car.

The sound of screeching metal brakes lingers in the air as the train arrives, and I squeeze inside one of the crowded cars, gripping on to the cold metal pole and closing my eyes.

It’s a miracle that I manage to get off at the right stop and remember the correct route to walk home.

When I’m inside my apartment, I kick off my shoes and head straight to my bedroom, dumping my bag on the floor.

My eyelids heavy, I lie on my bed, curling into a ball.

It hurts. Everywhere.

“Hey!” Jen chirps as she appears at my door. “I was—” She stops talking, concern filling her blue eyes. “What happened?”

I sit up on my bed, glancing down at the floor. “Jackson broke up with me,” I hoarsely say.

Her eyes go wide. “He did what?!”

I sniffle. “He resigned from his job today. And then he was saying he doesn’t want to be a burden on me, that he doesn’t deserve me right now.” Tears start falling uncontrollably down my face until my whole body’s shaking, an agonizing, throbbing pain in my muscles from how much I’m crying.

Through my blurry vision, I see Jen hurry over, sitting next to me on the bed and pulling me into a hug. Her vanilla perfume surrounds me. “Oh, Belle. I’m so sorry.”

“I-I love him, Jen,” I gasp, surprising myself at the realization.

But it’s true.

I love how protective Jackson is. I love his sense of humor, his thoughtfulness and attention to detail, his determination, even his competitive spirit and big ego, and his face—his handsome face.

And above all, I love being with him.

He’s the person I want to experience sunsets and sunrises and lazy Sunday mornings with, to stay in and watch silly movies with, to go on late-night grocery store runs with, the person I want to make coffee for outside of my barista job.

But none of that matters anymore.

“I know. I know you do,” Jen murmurs, stroking my hair. “I know you’re hurting.”

“H-he … he let me go and c-called it quits.” I hiccup my words. “He doesn’t want to f-fight for us.”

“He probably just needs some space right now,” Jen says. “I mean, after finding out his life was basically a lie. You said he quit his job, and that’s not a decision he would’ve made lightly. He’s probably feeling lost right now.”