Page 73 of Breaking
Troy exhaled. "I understand. I'm sorry for upsetting you."
She listened as he walked toward the door, expecting to hear it close. But instead, she heard his footsteps walking back and then felt his hands on her shoulders.
"I don't deserve it," he murmured, "but you promised. I'm trying. And I'm not going anywhere. But you're upset, so I'll see you tomorrow."
And then he was gone.
Chapter 57
Jenna
Jenna opened the door one rainy morning to find Troy standing on the stoop with an apologetic smile and two large takeaway cups in his hands. Over the past two weeks, he had appeared at her doorstep every morning bearing something she liked: black coffee with a dash of cinnamon, or a chai latte, or once even croissants from that tiny bakery she loved. Today, he was soaked from the drizzle, his dark hoodie clinging to his body in a way that made her stomach tighten despite herself. The wet fabric moulded to the broad planes of his chest, outlining muscles she had once traced in the dark.
She wasnotgoing to notice that.
Behind her, Dani's voice floated down the hall. "Oh my God, he's back again. What's it today, flowers? Chocolates? Aboomboxover his head?"
Dylan, slumped on the couch with his phone, muttered, "If it's a boombox, I'm moving out."
Troy, still dripping on her doorstep, arched an amused brow. "Morning to you, too, Dani. Dylan."
Dylan didn't even look up. "Still here, huh?"
Troy, oblivious to her internal struggle, offered her a cup with a small grin. "I'll survive. I, uh... remember you said you only drink black coffee on rainy days."
"That was a long time ago," she murmured, stepping aside to let him in out of habit. The memory of her once-routine coffee preferencestole her breath for a moment. Troy remembered more than she wanted to believe.
They settled at the small kitchen table, the warmth of the coffee momentarily filling the silence. She felt the tension in the air shift- the old, familiar rhythm threatened to return, but then the memory of the neglect and heartbreak forced its way between them.
"How was your run?" Jenna asked, because she wasn't sure what else to say.
He shrugged. "It's my new thing. Clears my head. I'd love for you to join me for a walk in the evenings, though I know you hate jogging. Maybe we could-"
She held up a hand. "Troy, please. Don't push. I'm not... I'm not there yet."
He pressed his lips together. "Okay. I get it."
They finished their coffees in a silence that felt both comfortable and fraught. Then Troy rose, pulling the hood over his damp hair. "I'll see you around," he said quietly, stepping back into the drizzle.
Jenna shut the door slowly, uncertain which unsettled her more: the way he tried so hard or the fleeting moments she almost wished he wouldn't give up.
Later that week, he tried again.
She was in the process of finishing a freelance design on her tablet when the doorbell rang. Standing there, no hoodie this time, but instead in a crisp shirt and slacks, Troy extended a small envelope.
Jenna blinked. "What-no wet puppy act today?"
Troy smiled, the dimple on his left cheek making an appearance. "Figured I'd switch tactics."
She arched a brow but took the envelope, fingers hesitating on the seal. "What is this?"
"A gallery opening tonight," he said, voice subdued. "It's by Elise Martens-she's that impressionist painter you used to talk about."
That hit its mark. Jenna drew in a breath. She had once dropped hints to him-barely disguised pleas, really-to take her to one of Elise Martens's exclusive shows. Back then, Troy hadn't paid attention. Too busy, or so he claimed. Eventually, she'd stopped asking.
"My friend Grace and I can go on our own," Jenna said, reflexively defensive, unsure whether she was more tempted or more annoyed that he suddenly cared. "I don't need your invitation."
Troy's smile faded slightly, but his tone remained gentle. "Youcould-except this one is by invitation only. And I happen to have two."
