Page 83 of Jinxed Hearts

My knees give out and I collapse onto the floor, sobs wracking through me. I press my hands to my face, thinking about my girls. What am I doing? I can’t destroy their lives. What if Jacob turns this into a war out of anger… a war I can’t win? What if I can’t provide for them?

A memory crashes in.“You’ll never be enough for anyone. Even your own father didn’t want you.”Ryan’s favorite line cuts through time like a blade. I should’ve walked away. Instead, I let his words wrap around my heart like chains.

I’m safe now, I whisper. Though the scars remain. And somehow, I’m living in a different kind of hell. Would I want my daughters to feel this way? To feel trapped in a marriage like mine?

I peel myself off the bathroom floor and wrap myself in a robe. On autopilot, I shuffle into our bedroom. A letter waits for me on my nightstand.

My heart flips as I pick it up, bracing myself. Jacob’s handwriting. Divorce papers? No… it can’t be.

Jenna,

I know I’m not great with words. And I’ve never been good at telling you how I feel. And that’s hurt you. I just never had someone show me how to love someone growing up.But I see how hard you try. How much you give to our family, even when I don't show you how much it means to me.

You deserve more, and I want to be the man who gives it to you. I booked a trip to Bali for us after New Year's. I thought we could use some time to remember what brought us together, and I’d like to try therapy. I’ve been so scared of ending up like my parents. Scared that therapy will make things worse. Scared of losing you. But the messed-up thing is, I might be losing you anyway.

Happy 10th anniversary. Love you, Jinx.

Forever, Jacob

Tears blur the words. Bali. Therapy. Words I never expected from Jacob. He’s trying, and for a moment, hope flickers in my chest. I fold the letter carefully, tucking it in my drawer.

The bedroom door opens. Jacob walks in and wraps his arms around me. His grip is tight. Urgent.

“Jenna,” he murmurs. “You know you’re the most important thing in the world to me, right? Even if I don’t say it enough. The first day I met you, when you were wearing those stupid yellowonesies, I knew I needed to have you. And nothing’s changed for me. I hope you feel the same.”

Do I?

“Are you still happy with me?” he asks, dropping his arms around me. He takes a step back, his tired, dark brown eyes searching mine.

I freeze. Unsure how to answer.

“It’s a yes or no question, Jenna,” he mutters, rubbing his temples.

But it’s not. Happiness isn’t something you squeeze into a single word. It’s layered. Tangled. Complicated. I haven’t been happy for years. And I’ve told him in a thousand different ways. He just never listens. Or maybe I’ve never said it clearly enough for him to understand.

“I love you,” I say instead, hoping it will be enough. “Thanks for the letter, for Bali, and everything you said.”

“That’s not the question I asked,” he pushes, his expression filled with worry.

I know, Jacob. But saying I love you is easier than trying to explain what’s wrong. Easier than telling you that I feel like something is still missing—that I’m lost inside the life we built. I see how hard you’ve been trying. Cutting back at work, planning this spontaneous trip, asking about my day. But it all feels like slapping duct tape on a cracked windshield.

“I don’t know what happiness is anymore,” I admit, exhaling. “But you know that.”

His body tenses.

“What I do know,” I say gently, pulling him in for a hug, “is that I want us to be happy again. I want to try. And I’m really excited about Bali.”

He just nods and holds me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. And I let him.

Chapter 28: Everything I Can’t Have

Dylan: December

The park’s a zoo. Festival lights, country holiday music blasting, food trucks, and kids screaming in every corner. Just enough noise to fight the war in my head.

I’m running laps with Krueger and Jaws, while Jaws keeps barking at the floating balloons, slowing me down.

“Easy, killer,” I mutter, tugging him back. I finally give in and drop onto the grass. Chest burning. Legs aching. But not half as bad as the conflicted feelings clawing through my heart.