Chapter 88 Things We Don’t Say
Sable’s POV
Jenna showed up the next day with pastries.
“Oh my God,” she said the second the door opened. “You look like a person again.”
I smiled, genuinely. “I feel like one. Mostly.”
She stepped forward and wrapped me in a careful hug. I hugged her back, breathing in her familiar scent.
Behind her, Jaxon cleared his throat. “I brought coffee.”
“Thank you,” Jenna said without turning around.
Jaxon gave me a look as he passed—protective, amused, tired. He set the cups on the counter and leaned back against it, arms crossed, pretending very hard not to listen.
Jenna pulled me toward the couch like it was a conspiracy. “Sit. Tell me everything.”
I glanced at Jaxon. “Everything?”
“Everything that doesn’t involve gore,” he said quickly. “I’m still trying to eat.”
Jenna waved him off. “You’re a big wolf. You’ll survive.”
He snorted but stayed put.
We settled onto the couch, Jenna curling her legs under her like she always did when she was gearing up for a heart-to-heart. I took a breath, trying to decide where to even start.
“How are things with Kier?” she asked gently.
I laughed, but it came out thin. “Barely going.”
She frowned. “That bad?”
“Not bad,” I said. “Just… complicated. Which I know is rich coming from me.”
Jenna tilted her head. “You want to be with him.”
It wasn’t a question.
I stared at my hands. “Yeah.”
“Like want-want,” she pressed.
“Yes,” I admitted. “Like want him in a way that scares the hell out of me.”
Jaxon grunted and I ignored him.
“I spent years telling myself I didn’t need him,” I went on. “That the bond was just control dressed up as destiny. And now he’s here, and he’s trying so hard not to push me, and that almost makes it worse.”
Jenna nodded slowly. “Because if he pushed, you’d know how to fight back.”
“Exactly,” I said. “But this? Him waiting? Him choosing restraint?” I swallowed. “That feels like choice. And that’s the thing I’m terrified of losing.”
She reached out and squeezed my knee. “You’re allowed to be scared.”
“I know,” I said. “I just don’t know how to move forward without feeling like I’m stepping back into something I worked really hard to escape.”
Jenna’s gaze softened. “You don’t stop being you just because you choose someone.”
I looked at her. “Do you believe that?”
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
And that second didn’t belong to me.
My eyes flicked past her to Jaxon and that’s when I saw it. The tension in his shoulders.
Interesting.
“So,” I said casually, “is there something going on with you and my brother?”
Jenna practically jumped.
“What? No. Absolutely not.”
Jaxon straightened. “What?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wow. That was fast.”
Jenna waved her hands. “We’re not—there’s nothing—he’s just been… helpful. Because you were kidnapped. Which is a normal time for people to be helpful.” She rambled.
Jaxon opened his mouth. Closed it. Rubbed the back of his neck.
“Uh,” he said.
Jenna’s cheeks flushed.
Oh, this was definitely something.
“Uh-huh,” I said.
She groaned. “Sable.”
“I’m just asking.”
“There is nothing going on,” she insisted, a little too loudly. “We’re friends. He’s your brother. That’s… weird.”
Jaxon shot her a look. “I’m standing right here.”
“I know!” she snapped, then sighed. “Sorry. I’m just—this is a lot.”
My smile softened. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
She glanced at Jaxon, then back at me. “I just… he’s been really kind. And patient. And annoyingly attractive for someone who pretends he doesn’t know he is.”
Jaxon coughed. “I do not pretend.”
“You absolutely pretend,” Jenna shot back.
I laughed, the sound bubbling out before I could stop it. It felt good. Normal.
Jaxon shook his head and grabbed his coffee. “I’m going to… give you two space.”
“Running away?” I teased.
“Strategic retreat,” he corrected, heading toward the balcony. “Yell if you need me.”
When he was gone, Jenna slumped back against the couch. “Nothing is honestly happening between us.”
“Yet.” I said gently.
She looked at me. “He has some hang up issues over his ex and I'm not trying to be anyone's rebound.”
“I think,” I said, “that you’re doing the same thing I am.”
She frowned. “Which is?”
“Standing at the edge of something you want,” I said softly, “and being scared it’ll cost you more than you’re ready to pay.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she smiled, sad and honest. “Yeah.”
We sat there together, the city humming beyond the windows, two women balancing on the edge of choice.
“You’ll figure it out,” she said eventually. “You always do.”
I leaned back, exhaling. “So will you.”
She nudged my shoulder. “We’re disasters.”
“Functional ones,” I corrected.
She laughed.
And for the first time since everything fell apart, I believed that we might be okay.