Page 19 of Puck & Make Up

That feels impossible right now—my lungs shuddering, my breaths coming in rapid gusts, my tears pouring down my cheeks.

I buried this all so long ago, and I don’t know why it’s coming out now.

And, worst of all, why it’s coming out with Fox, the man who lives to torment me.

No, that’s not fair.

He’s the man who pushes my buttons as much as I push his.

Because from the first time I saw him, I wanted him.

And if I’ve learned anything over the last years is that if I want a man, he’s destined to break my heart.

Case in point?

My high school boyfriend dumped me for the head cheerleader the night before prom.

And my college boyfriend, well, he left me because he found his “soulmate”…who happened to be myroommate.

Not to mention that my dating experiences as an adult have been littered with matches on apps and failed dates (including one where the man I was interested took me to dinner the left me with a big-ass bill because he washungryand another who tried to get me to play a DoorDash driver by picking up dinner—and paying for it—then driving it out to his place because he didn’t have a car).

Winners.

I always picked winners.

And there was Jett. The man I dated before moving home to River’s Bend. The man who proposed to me, who I was so excited to spend the rest of my life with—so much so that I was willing to leave my job for him.

Only to find out he was cheating on me.

Andwhendid I find out?

The same night I accepted his ring.

Ugh.

Jett was an asshole—I know that now, understand it, especially after seeing how Axel and Joel interact with Bailey and Billie Rose, after seeing my best friends so happy and in love.

I wasn’t like that with Jett.

I wasn’t…me.

I was smaller, quieter…diminished.

And he certainly didn’t adore me in the same way the guys love my best friends.

My throat burns, and I know I should lift my head, should pull away from Fox. Should shove this all down and keep pushing forward.

Don’t back down.

But…I’m tired.

And there’s something wrong with me, something broken with my “picker.”

All of which to say?—

I know—fuckingknow—by now that if I want a man, that’s the clearest signal to me to run the fuck away.

And if Ican’trun?

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