Page 146 of Unleashed

I turned the jar in my hands, curious. “Thanks, Sally. I owe you one.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. And don’t be a stranger. I mean it.”

I waved goodbye to them all and headed down the sidewalk to find my room, my footsteps echoing softly as the weight of the storm—and my own thoughts—pressed in around me.

By the time I shrugged off my pack and cranked up the heat, the afternoon sun had long passed its peak, casting muted light through the motel window. My fingers fumbled with the buttons on my shirt, each movement sluggish. A wave of nausea crept up again—persistent, like an unwelcome guest. I’d felt off since the morning, but now, it lingered like a weight I couldn’t shake.

After plugging my phone into the charger, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the screen. I should let them know I’m safe. My fingers hovered over the screen before I made the necessary calls—my parents, Slade, Erika. Quick, efficient, reassuring.

I stopped short when I scrolled to Michael's name. Should I? My pulse quickened. Maybe hearing his voice would make things clearer, or maybe it would only make everything worse. I debated longer than I should have, then tapped the call button before I could overthink it.

The line rang once, twice, then clicked. His voice came through sharp with alarm. “Where are you?”

“I’m safe,” I replied, keeping my tone calm. Neutral.

“Where?” His urgency cut through the static. “It’s going to snow, Morgan.”

“I know. I’m at a motel.” I exhaled slowly, bracing myself for the inevitable pushback.

“For how long?”

“Two days. I won’t head out until the storm clears.”

He let out a frustrated breath, the kind that spoke volumes. “You should come home. I could drive up and get you. It won’t start snowing until later this evening.”

“Michael, that’s not necessary. Really, I’m safe.”

“I don’t like this, Morgan. I love you, and I want to make sure you’re okay.” His voice softened, but there was an edge beneath it. “Have you made a decision?”

My throat tightened. “No. Not yet. I… I need more time.”

“I’ve got time,” he said, though the impatience in his tone betrayed him. “But you know I hate waiting.”

I smiled faintly, though he couldn’t see it. “Yes, I do, but you don’t have a choice.”

His frustration spilled over. “This isn’t fair, and you know it’s not.”

I closed my eyes, pressing my fingers to my temple. “You can say it’s unfair, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a terrible person for dragging this out. I can’t make a decision like this when so much is at stake. Our future is hanging in the balance, Michael.”

His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “If you pick him, you’re sentencing me to hell. I can’t live without you.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Funny. He says the same thing.”

Michael’s voice was sharp, almost pleading. “But does he mean it?”

“Please, Michael,” I whispered. “Give me a few more days. I’ll have an answer.”

He hesitated, then sighed heavily. “This waiting… it’s torture. Take care of yourself, okay?”

The line clicked dead before I could respond. I stared at my phone, the emptiness of the conversation echoing in the silence of the room. The television droned on in the background, but I barely heard it.

I unwrapped a peppermint candy and popped it into my mouth, hoping the sharp mint would settle my stomach. But before I could relax, my phone chirped with an incoming email. Without thinking, I swiped to open it—and froze.

The breath left my body in a rush. A video clip filled the screen, showing Slade at a restaurant. My husband, leaning in to kiss a younger woman. Their smiles were soft, intimate—familiar. Too familiar.

I stared at the scene, bile rising in my throat. They looked cozy, comfortable. The kind of ease that comes with affection, with something more than just a fleeting affair. My fingers trembled as I tried to respond to the email, but the message bounced back. The sender no longer existed. A ghost.

Slade had lied. Just like his father, keeping women on the side. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the questions that now flooded my mind. Was this why he’d been pushing for a baby? To keep me occupied, too distracted to notice his infidelity?

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