Page 18 of Messy Match

The evening breeze is cool as we slip through the wide-open wall of sliding doors that lead to the stone terrace. White orbs sway gently in the branches of century-old trees, casting their soft light on the garden below. It’s the kind of dreamy scene made for couples to share first kisses, not last words.

Jake’s hand remains steady on the small of my back as he leads me down the flagstone path that winds through manicured shrubs to a secluded spot I haven’t noticed before, where two wooden swings hang from the sturdy branches of an ancient maple tree.

I sink onto the smooth wooden seat of a swing, grateful for the space between us. He takes a seat on the swing at my side, the rope protesting his weight. I push off gently with my toes.

“Charlotte,” Jake begins, his voice cutting through the hum of music spilling from the reception above. “I need to know what really happened on New Year’s Eve.”

Cutting right to the heart of the matter, I see. My swing slows as tension coils in my stomach. “Jake—”

“Please,” he begs, turning to face me. The soft light catches in his golden curls, creating a halo effect that seems almost unfair. “You pushed me away that night. Kicked me out of your room last night. Ran from the terrace the night before. You’ve been keeping me at arm’s length for two years now. There’s a reason, and I think I deserve to know why.”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. I owe him at least that much. I take a deep breath, focusing on the distant silhouettes of mountains against the inky sky.

“Something happened before that night,” I admit, my voice barely audible. “The summer before we met, I was walking home from an audition late one night. I cut through a side street in the theater district I thought was a shortcut. A man followed me, cornered me between buildings.”

Jake goes completely still beside me, his knuckles white where they grip the rope.

“He had a hold of me, and I was so scared. I offered my wallet, my phone, anything, but he didn’t want them. He wanted me. I fought back, and fortunately, a police car with its siren blaring sped down Seventh Avenue, distracting him just enough that I could wrench free. I got away. But…” My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. “I felt powerless. Weak. I… I hated it.”

I push harder with my toes, swallowing the memories from that night while Jake waits patiently, as if he knows there’s more to my story. “I never told anyone. Not my friends, not my mom, and certainly not Brock. He would have gone ballistic. Instead, I enrolled in self-defense classes. I promised myself I’d never be caught off guard like that again. That I’d never need rescuing.”

Understanding dawns in Jake’s eyes, followed quickly by something darker, more intense. “And then on New Year’s Eve, when those guys—”

“You swooped in before I had a chance to handle it myself,” I finish. “It felt like all those months of training meant nothing. Like I was still that frightened girl in the alley.”

Jake stands abruptly, pacing in front of the swings, his hands raking through his hair. “Damn it, Charlotte! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have—”

“What? Let me handle it?” I challenge, rising to meet him. “That’s not who you are, Jake. You’re a protector. I knew it from the moment I met you. It’s in your DNA.”

“I would have understood!” His voice rises, echoing in the quiet garden. “I would have backed your play instead of making you feel like I didn’t think you were capable.”

The raw emotion in his voice stuns me. This isn’t the easygoing, flirtatious Jake I’m used to sparring with. This is something else entirely. A man whose fury stems not from wounded pride but from agony on my behalf.

“You should have told me,” he continues, softly, stepping closer, his eyes blazing in the dim light. “If I’d known what you’d been through, what you—”

“I didn’t want you to know,” I whisper. “I didn’t want anyone to know. Especially not the guy whose job is literally saving people. We’d just met, for goodness sake. I thought I could push you away, and that would be the end of it. I didn’t know—”

Jake’s hands come up to frame my face, his touch so gentle it makes my heart ache. “Charlotte Harris, when are you going to understand that needing help doesn’t make you weak? It makes you human.”

The tears I’ve been fighting spill over, tracing hot paths down my cheeks.

“Jake!” Levi’s voice from above shatters the moment. “There you are. We’ve been looking everywhere. It’s time for your speech!”

Jake’s forehead drops to rest against mine for just a second, his frustrated exhale warm against my lips. “I have to—”

“Go,” I whisper, stepping back. “Your best man duties await.”

He catches my hand before I can retreat further. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“I know.” And for the first time in two years, I don’t want it to be.

Chapter twelve

Charlotte

Islipbackintothereception hall just as Jake accepts the microphone at the front of the room. My heart is still racing from our conversation in the garden, but I drag in a deep breath of air, filling my lungs and blow it out slowly. Maya catches my eye and waves me over to where she stands with Mack, but I shake my head and hang back.

Jake clears his throat, and the room falls silent. “When Brock first told me he was dating a physician, I figured it would end like all his other attempts at relationships—in flames.” His easy smile draws chuckles from the crowd. “But as time went on and I saw the way he looked at Libby, like she was both the spark that lit him up and the oxygen he needed to survive, I knew he was falling in love.”

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