Page 69 of Jinxed Hearts

I smirk, turning to my side. “I always knew you were a screamer.”

She tilts her head, eyes sparkling. “Well… you’re a lot bigger than a spider.”

We both laugh and I pull her closer, kissing the top of her head. This can’t be a one-time thing. I want her again. Right now. I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough.

“What now?” she asks, her voice low. “What happens next? Do we go home and pretend this never happened? Or do we do this again until one of us gets hurt?” She pauses, looking up at me. “Do I tell Jacob and end my marriage?”

I catch a flicker of doubt in her eyes. Like she regrets asking me.

“Yes,” I say, without hesitation. “We do this again. And again. And enjoy each other as much as possible. Let’s not think about the future.” I let out a breath slowly. “I don’t have all the answers, and commitment scares the hell out of me. But what I feel for you? It’s different. And I don’t want to let you go.”

As I say it, all I can think about is the idea of a future with her.

I sit up, reaching for my sweater. Her hand presses against my chest.

“Wait.” She gasps. “Don’t get dressed yet.” Her voice wavers, fingers clinging to me like she’s afraid to let go.

And there it is again—that hesitation. She’s torn, and I know better than to believe any of this will be easy.

“This might be the last time I see you like this.” Her voice dips. “Because we can’t—”

“Don’t,” I cut her off. “This just started. I want to know more about you. Not end it before it begins.”

I pause, trying to make sense of my own thoughts. I don’t do forever, but I could stay in this truck all week long.

“If I could tell my emotions to fuck off, I’d already be out that door. I don’t stay. We had sex. This is my cue to run,” I confess. “But here I am. And all I can think about is taking you out to dinner, spoiling you, making you feel like you’re mine.”

God damn it. I want her. More than I should.

“But I’m not yours, Dylan.” Her voice drops. “You’ve never done this before. Relationships aren’t car picnics and kisses. They’re messy. Hard. Compromise and late-night arguments. Fights over stupid socks on the floor. And I don’t even know all of you.”

Her words sting. I pull her into me, and she rests her head on my chest.

“You never tell me things about your past,” she murmurs. “But you expect me to tell you mine. Why?” she asks, eyes now searching for answers I don’t have.

“It’s easier that way,” I reply, my voice tight.

“For who? You? I just had sex with you. I think I should know more—the good and the bad.”

I breathe slowly, my stomach twisting as I shift a little. “You don’t want to know that side of me. Some things are better left buried.”

Yet some part of me wants her to push harder. And the other part hopes she lets it go. Because whatever this is? Our connection. The sex. It should be enough. But as I hold her, I want to give her more pieces of me and I don’t know why. Maybe because she never looks at me with judgment and she seems to get me in a way no one else does.

“You ever carry something so fucking heavy, it becomes… a part of you? And if you let it go, you might completely lose yourself?”

“God, yes, you have no idea.” Jenna tilts her head, her eyes focused on mine. Full attention on me. And it feels strange. Like I’m not just being looked at… I’m being seen. I don’t know whyI’m surprised. She’s had this effect on me since the first time she looked into my eyes like she already knew me.

I take a deep breath. “You know how I said my brother died from an overdose because I wasn’t there.”

She stays silent, body tense against mine. Her fingers gently tracing my chest. She doesn’t push, and it makes me keep going.

“We had this thing,” I say slowly. “Where we’d check in every day. We knew the demons we were facing. Addiction, our dad, everything.”

Jenna doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just listens.

“But that day…” I mutter. “He messaged me. Said he’d fucked up. The drugs were making him do things he regretted. He asked me to come get him. Talk him down.” Bitterness cuts through my voice. “And I didn’t care. He reached out to me, and I didn’t fucking care. I was too busy with some girl I thought I loved. Someone I’d dated for what? Three weeks.”

I pause, shame tightening my chest. “He was rambling. Not making any sense. Talking about our Dad. A girl. Hating himself. And life. I knew something was wrong. I fucking knew, but I still ignored it. Put my phone down and went back to—” My heart races. “Went back to fucking her while my brother—”