The Victim by Jennifer R. Jensen

Author:Jennifer R. Jensen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance, Second chance romance, Emotional Rollercoaster, Character Driven, The broken hero
Publisher: Jennifer R. Jensen
Published: 2024-09-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-three

I was pulled from my thoughts as Caleb turned around and headed towards the French doors.

I hurried after him. Any attempt at some grace up the few steps was unsuccessful as I fell forward. Noah was quick to the jump, helping me up before we continued to the lobby.

“Caleb!” I yelled just as he reached the entrance.

He turned around, seeing the unfortunate sight of Noah right beside me.

“Jesus,” Caleb replied with an exhale.

“We were just dancing,” I explained, trying to catch my stomach up with all the sudden movement.

“That wasn’t just dancing,” he snapped back.

Noah took a couple steps toward him. “Listen, this is my fault. I asked—”

Caleb put up his hand to stop him. “This has nothing to do with you.”

Noah’s brows furrowed.

I’d like to say my expression had the same questionable look. But Caleb was right.

“You should go back to the party,” I said to Noah, looking apologetic.

“You should join him,” Caleb continued as he used his phone to order a ride. “I’m leaving anyway.”

I glanced at Noah as I exhaled, before following Caleb out the door.

The frigid winter air hit me full force, sending shivers across my body. “Caleb!” I yelled, but he kept walking. “Caleb!”

He stopped and paused before turning around to face me once more.

“You’re overreacting,” I said.

His expression shifted to an aggravated smile. “Really—”

“Think about the glass house you live in before you say your next words,” I replied, my eyes piercing into his.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Meaning only a few weeks ago I had to watch you put your head up some girl's dress.”

His expression shifted.

“But that was all in good fun, right?” I asked.

He took a couple steps back my way. “It was actually. Or it was meant to be anyway. I’m sorry that it hurt you. But this is different.”

“Why? Because it was me who did it?”

“Because you weren’t just dancing with him, Harper,” he said, his eyes holding pain instead of the bitterness his tone implied. “He was comforting you... when was the last time you let me do that?”

“I let you—”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected. “You don’t let me in. You don’t let me help. You don’t even tell me the truth most of the time.”

“I’m trying,” I replied, my words cracking as my throat tightened.

“I don’t understand why it’s so hard,” he said as a small breeze blew a light dusting of snow over my exposed skin. “Why don’t you trust me?” he asked, his eyes pleading with mine for the truth.

My eyes fell from his as I tucked my frigid hands under my arms and contemplated an answer I didn’t have.

“You’re never going to forgive me are you?”

“Forgive you? For what?” I asked.

“For leaving,” he replied as tears coated his eyes. “I watched you drink yourself into nonexistence for weeks. You were hurting as bad as someone could and I left you.”

My heart fell into my stomach, hitting so hard that a round of nausea ran through. The feelings from eight years before rushed in. My anger.

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