Page 42 of Unbreak Me

"Is there anything I can do for you? Or maybe something I can try to do about Ferguson?"

He flinched slightly. "No," he said, shaking his head and looking away. "I wanted to tell you this so you’d understand why I acted the way I did this week. On one hand, I wanted to enter into this contract. I want to have children. But on the other hand, I’ve been a mess. I owe you this explanation so you know where my mixed signals come from."

"I understand everything. My God…"

"Part of me remembers the positive moments I shared with Nico. But all of that has been overshadowed by what Mark did. I feel this terrible confusion. I don’t know what I’m ready for, what I’m not. I feel like shit for letting you get into this contract without knowing my past. It’s so fucking unfair. I was stupid, hoping it would just vanish into thin air, this fear. I was deluding myself, coming to the fair thinking it just wouldn’t matter. Yes, it’s better than it used to be, but sadly… I’m not completely healed."

"I hear it all, and I appreciate your honesty." Since he shook his head, I squeezed his hand a bit more firmly. "Truly, Day, I understand. I won’t push you. I promise I won’t pressure you about anything. It will always be your choice."

Day closed his eyes and whispered softly, "It might not be that simple. I may not have as much time as I’d like. My doctor says my heat could come as early as next month, or even earlier, and then everything will spiral out of control."

I blinked in surprise, realizing we hadn’t discussed this before. "Maybe you should consider pharmacological heat suppression?"

He laughed bitterly, taking another sip of liquor. "I’m thirty-four years old, Jan. If I miss this heat now, the next one mightnot come for two years. You know, the older an omega gets, the longer the intervals between heats become. I don’t want to risk something going wrong with my health. And I don’t want to take strong hormones that could destabilize my system."

I fell silent, unable to find a response except for one more suggestion. "What about seeing a therapist? Maybe he could find a solution?"

"I… tried it before, with a few therapists actually, but I was walking in circles—it just seemed pointless." He let out a loud huff. "I—I don’t want to talk about it now. I’m tired. I just want to lie down," he whispered, clenching his eyelids. "I’m just so exhausted…"

"Of course, of course." I gently tugged his hand, and he stood up, though he swayed heavily. I quickly moved to support him, wrapping my arm around his waist. His other hand rested on my shoulder, and for the first time, we were in such a proximity.

His body was thin and bony under my fingers. Instinctively, wanting to stabilize him, I pulled him even closer, feeling how frail and delicate he was.

Without saying more, I leaned down, slid one hand under his knees, and lifted him into the air. He let out a soft gasp of surprise. I carried him toward the house, his head resting on my shoulder; he weighed close to nothing. I climbed the stairs to his room and gently laid him on the bed. I removed his shoes in silence, then pulled the blanket over him.

"Try to get some sleep," I said. "You’ll feel better tomorrow."

Just to be safe, I placed a small bowl on the floor next to his bed.

His gaze lingered on me, a look I couldn’t quite interpret.

"Jan, I’m sorry. Sorry for how I treated you these last few days. I want you to know it wasn’t your fault. You were so kind,caring, and sweet. It’s me. I’m a mess. You don’t deserve to deal with my shit. I… don’t deserve you."

I snorted. "Don’t say that, Day! I chose you. I wouldn’t choose differently, even if I’d known. We’ll find a way through this. I’ll do anything you need me to do."

He let out a small sob, then closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to hold back the tears.

"Sleep well, Day," I murmured and left the room. He didn’t say another word.

Once alone, I felt like I could barely hold myself together.

I rushed to my computer and typed in Ferguson’s name.

It immediately popped up at the top of the search list.

My eyes widened. He wasn’t just the CEO of a large real estate brokerage firm, DarenCo—he was also an aspiring politician, gearing up for the upcoming state senate elections.

With a look of hatred, I stared at his face on the screen—a smug, proud expression, cold, shark-like eyes. Even at first glance, he didn’t inspire trust.

I scrolled further and saw Jared, his husband, in some photos. A tall, blonde model with a flawless face. One even showed them with their child on their laps—a typical publicity shot designed to portray him as a family man.

With the child he nearly killed when he raped Day. And he flaunted the toddler online like some kind of trophy for the elections.

My anger was so intense that my hands shook as I scrolled. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I had todo something. It couldn’t go on like this—Day stuck in endless suffering and this beast climbing the ladder of a political career like nothing had happened.

I sat there for long minutes, my mind racing, my emotions boiling, and every part of my being protesting against what had happened to Day. I realized I couldn’t just let this turn intodoing… nothing. I couldn’t simply go on living as if Day hadn’t been horribly wronged, crushed, and mauled.

He had said no—he didn’t want me to intervene. But could I really let it go? Was that the right thing to do?

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