Page 76 of Someone to Tempt
I lead her to Charlotte’s tiny office and close the door behind us. “What’s going on?”
Her eyes are brimming with tears that she’s trying hard to blink back.
“I really am not a crier.”
“Iris, you can cry all damn day if you need to. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
She draws in a shaky breath. “You don’t mind my tears?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I hate that you’re upset, but tears don’t bother me. How much of a jackass do you think I am?”
She gives a shaky laugh, then grabs a tissue from the box on Char’s desk and swipes it under her eyes.
“I’ll be fine. Really. We should head back and?—”
“Tell me what’s going on.” I place my hands on her shoulders and crouch so we’re at eye level. “Is it the bullshit with the election?”
“It’s you,” she whispers.
Shit. I draw back like she’s slapped me. How did I screw this up so quickly? “What did I do?”
“Not what I thought.” She swallows hard. “Jake, I owe you an apology.”
That’s a shocker. Definitely filing that under things I never expected to hear. Her delicate brows draw together, and I can’t help but reach out to smooth the furrow that appears between them.
“I blamed you for the accident,” she continues, voice steady, eyes fixed on mine. “But I know Nick was driving that night. It wasn’t your fault.”
Every muscle in my body tenses, her words hitting harder than I could have imagined. “Don’t paint me as a hero, Iris.”
I’ve been carrying the weight of that summer for so long. And it’s more than just everything that happened with Nick. Losing Mikey in the boating accident and then the wreck months later—two things I couldn’t control, but I still believe are my fault.
“I shouldn’t have let him get behind the wheel and?—”
She places a finger over my lips.
“I painted you as the villain for so long. Why didn’t you call out my mom on her lie?”
The question hangs in the air between us. I look away, unsure how to answer without revealing too much—more than I’ve ever let anyone see. “You were going through enough already. There was no reason for me to deny what you thought of me when I deserved it. Nick and I were both responsible. It could have just as easily been me.”
“But it wasn’t.” She takes my hand, her eyes filled with a forgiveness I didn’t ask for but somehow need like my next breath. I don’t know if I deserve her, but I want to try to be the man who does. “You also weren’t driving the boat the night your brother died.”
“That doesn’t change anything.” She’s peeling back the layers I’ve spent years building, walls that keep the guilt contained, leaving me raw. “I should have done something. Been stronger or faster. I should have saved?—”
“No.” She cuts me off, cupping my face between her soft hands. “You couldn’t have stopped either accident, Jake.”
I don’t pull away even though I want to. The intimacy of this moment is almost too much, and I’m sure she can feel the way my heart is pounding. For the first time since that summer, I allow myself to wonder if she’s right.
The guilt doesn’t vanish, but her words change something inside me—allowing the faintest whisper of hope to shine through. I told Iris she deserves more than she gives herself credit for, but maybe she’s not the only one. Maybe it’s time to stop punishing myself.
And if I’m going to try to build something new, I want to do it with her, even though it scares the hell out of me.
The thought of building anything new terrifies me—not just with Iris, but in general. I've spent so long defining myself by what I've lost, by the rubble of my past mistakes. The idea of clearing that wreckage away and starting fresh feels like a betrayal of everything that's happened, everything I've done. It's easier to exist in the ruins than to risk constructing something that could collapse all over again.
But staying in this holding pattern isn't living—it's just surviving. And somehow, despite all my defenses, Iris has made me wonder if I'm ready to try something more than just getting through each day. If I'm ready to hope again, to plan again, to believe that I might deserve more than this purgatory I've built for myself.I might just be ready for more.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask as I press my forehead to hers like it’s just the two of us in the world right now.
She laughs softly. “Uh, working? Being the mayor and campaigning to continue being the mayor.”
