Page 40 of Unbreak Me

"All the better—it’s more economical," I smiled, but as usual, he didn’t smile back.

He took a sip, coughed lightly, and then said, "Actually, it's not bad. I expected it to be bitter, but it's sweet."

"Yeah. I add honey to it; that’s why it has such an interesting aroma."

"Not bad at all," he said, taking another sip. A strange relief spread across his face. He leaned back more comfortably and, of course, pulled out a cigarette.

For the next hour, we sat sipping my Cornelian cherry liquor, accompanied by my dogs and cats napping on the sofa. The atmosphere loosened up a bit. I told him how I started the tree nursery and bought this property.

The previous owner, my uncle’s friend, was a retired doctor. He’d dreamed of starting a nursery of trees and fruit bushes, so he bought various plants and treated it as a hobby. Sadly, he had a stroke and passed away a year later. His nephews put the property up for sale, and since I was just graduating from agricultural university, I bought it.

I admitted to Day that I made plenty of mistakes in the first two years, but eventually, I applied what I’d learned in school. The nursery finally started functioning, plants began selling, and things slowly improved.

"Why did you choose such rare plant species? Surely, there’s less demand for them compared to the popular ones," he asked.

I smiled faintly. "You’d be surprised. Gardening enthusiasts love unique, original plants. Selling these rarer species has been more profitable than common varieties like the North American blueberry, for example. I’m always thinking about expanding the range with even more exotic plants—it’s where the real profit lies."

"Oh," Day rolled his eyes. "Well, I told you I’m terrible at business. If you gave me this nursery to manage, it would probably go bankrupt." He chuckled, clearly feeling more at ease.

"Maybe not. You can learn these things over time. Everyone makes mistakes at first. The previous owner made plenty, and so did I. It’s only recently that everything’s started to work well. The nursery brings in a decent income now."

Day grew pensive. "It’s interesting that you have such an unusual job. And it’s nice that you work outdoors insteadof being stuck inside. Watching things grow… creating life… helping something thrive."

His face became contemplative, almost dejected, and he downed another full glass, which surprised me. Day was keeping an intense pace.

Silence fell.

Something shifted in his expression. He looked more determined, like he’d made up his mind. Narrowing his eyes, he furrowed his brow and said, "I’ve noticed your attempts this week to… initiate something between us."

I froze, my heart racing. He could surely hear it, but among alphas and omegas, it was considered tactless to address it directly.

Most likely it was the alcohol making him more honest than usual—even his energy felt different.

"I… I’m sorry if I rushed things. I didn’t mean to pressure you, Day. I promise I’ll back off. I realize you want me to stick to the contract more rigidly, and I will."

Day scoffed and slapped his thigh.

"No, Jan! You misunderstood me. Mentioning the contract was stupid and erratic, especially since I was the one who said it wasn’t meant for relationships with young alphas. I wasn’t bashing your attempts; I just noticed them. The problem isn’t you—it’s me! After what happened with the Fergusons, I still haven’t come to terms with myself. You deserve to know that."

I blinked. "The Fergusons? Is it the family you worked for last time—the ones with the baby who ended up in the incubator?"

He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. It was loud, almost aggressive.

"Yes, them. What happened in that house—I still haven’t dealt with it. That’s the reason for my… strange behavior."

"I assume you felt awful that the baby ended up in the hospital, that his life was at risk—"

Day shook his head violently, then poured himself another glass and downed it in one go. I watched with growing concern—he’d already had quite a bit.

"No, that was just the consequence of everything else. And I can't even say that I feel completely guilty about it."

I stared at him, stunned. "I don’t understand, Day. What happened there?"

"He raped me."

Those words hung in the air, almost echoing—they felt like a brutal punch. And that was despite Day saying them in such a detached tone, as though it wasn’t anything significant. His voice was completely devoid of emotion, and his eyes remained fixed on a small thicket to the left of my house. But what he felt inside was something entirely different. It was as if even saying those words was… killing him from within.

I sat frozen, swallowing hard. I hadn’t expected to hear something like this.

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