Page 98 of Tuned To Break
I take another long drink, and the alcohol spreads warmly through my chest. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
He nods like he expected it. “That’s fair.”
“But maybe I can try.”
Doc breathes out like I’ve handed him oxygen. “That’s more than I deserve.”
“Damn right,” I mutter. “But I’m doing it for me. Because carrying all that hurt has been exhausting.”
He nods again, wiping a hand across his face. “What you’ve done with the workshop… Nicole would be so proud. You’re her daughter through and through.”
“I had to be tough. You made sure of that.”
I don’t say it with venom—just truth. He nods, accepting it.
“I’m dating Jake,” I tell him, watching his reaction.
“I figured—from the way he looked like he wanted to rearrange my face the other day.” A faint chuckle. “He loves you.”
“He does.” I can’t help the smile; that part comes easily. “He’s taught me love doesn’t mean running away when it's hard. It means staying. Showing up.”
Doc’s expression crumples, but he meets my gaze. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn even a sliver of your trust again.”
I nod. Not ready to offer more than that. But it’s a start.
As if summoned, I feel Jake before I see him. His presence fills the space beside me—warm, steady, protective. His hand slides over my shoulder, grounding me instantly.
“Everything okay?” he asks, eyes locked on Doc.
“We’re good,” I murmur, covering his hand with mine.
Jake studies Doc for a beat, then offers his hand. “Doc.”
“Jake. Thanks for loving her the way she deserves.”
Jake nods. “She doesn’t need looking after. But I’ll always stand by her. No matter what.”
They shake. And for the first time in six years, I feel like maybe the cracks between past and present don’t have to stay broken.
Jake slides into the booth beside me, one hand on my thigh, thumb tracing slow circles. Doc glances between us. “So… what now?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “Maybe coffee. Maybe you visit the shop. Maybe we try.”
“No pressure,” he says quickly. “Whatever you need. Your pace. Your terms.”
“Exactly.”
“And if you change your mind?”
“Then you respect it.”
He nods, firm. “You have my word.”
We rise to leave, and Doc stands too.
“Stella?” he calls.
I turn.
