Page 129 of Forgive You

“Nope.” I storm past him.

“Jason?” Hunter calls out.

“Julie? What’s wrong?” Charlotte jogs to her friend, and right before I reach my car, I find Julie’s gaze still fixated on me.

“Everything,” she says before I get in and speed the hell out of there.

36

“You know you don’t have to leave, right?”

I avoid Charlotte’s worried expression as I carry my suitcase to her Jeep.

“I know.” I open the trunk and throw my stuff inside, then suck in a deep breath before I face her. “But it’s time I deal with my problems head on.”

I gave myself last night to cry, be sad, and drown in my misery.

Jason is right. He’s also an asshole, but he’s right about one thing.

I am a coward.

At some point, I can’t keep hiding behind the threats Jacob is making. I actually need to do something about it. I need to trust that the people I love will do everything to protect me like I would protect them, and I can’t do that if I don’t let them in.

I need to go home.

I click the trunk shut, then wrap my arms around my best friend.

“Do you need help?” Charlie whispers in my ear.

I squeeze her tighter, loving her even more for the question.

My fight with Jason crushed my heart, but having Charlotte right beside me when it did made me realize something. For months, I felt like I was alone.

Like I had to slay all my dragons by myself. Being home made me realize that’s not true. I have a lot of people who love me and who’d kill demons to help me.

I’m not a coward because I won’t slay my dragons.

I’m a coward for not asking for help.

But this first thing on my to-do list is something only I can do.

“I need to do this by myself. Thank you for letting me borrow your car.”

“Sure.” She lets go, searching my eyes. “I’m here when you need me.”

I thank her, my chest filled with hope as I get in and take off to the one place I should’ve gone months ago.

I silently drive through the streets of Braeden, a deep sense of comfort and belonging settling in my bones as I head to the other side of town. The afternoon sunlight cascades down on the magnolia trees, my heart easing at the familiar houses passing by. I watch kids play in the yards, riding their bikes, and people walking their dogs, and for the first time in a very long time, my soul isn’t as restless as it has been.

I belong here.

I don’t belong in LA. Living in LA has shown me where I need to be. I don’t like the glitz and glam of Californian life. Sure, I like to dress pretty, wear heels, and paint my nails. But I also want to feel a connection with people, with the place I live. I’m never going to find that on the West Coast, not the way I’m used to.

As I drive by a for sale sign in one of the single-family homes, my heart stutters. The image of a couple walking up the yard behind me, her pregnant, both their smiles wider than humanly possible while I show them around. Them signing the papers before they ask me to take a picture of them buying their firsthome. The palpable excitement they vibrate of knowing their life together is about to start.

I want to be in real estate again.

I want to work with my dad again.

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