Page 211 of Wrangle Me Three Times

The thought of her twists fierce in my chest. Her trust. Her easy affection. The way she assumes I’ll be there for her.

Marcus doesn’t get to touch that.

I pick up my phone again and scroll back to the most recent message.

Marcus: Let’s meet today. Main Street. We can clear the air.

Clear the air.

Like this is a misunderstanding instead of a boundary violation wrapped in nostalgia.

My thumb hovers over the keyboard.

I don’t want to see him.

But I want him gone.

And I know, deep down, that he won’t leave just because I ignore him. Silence has never stopped men like Marcus. It only gives them room to rewrite the story however they like.

No.

If this ends, it ends because I end it.

I type before I can talk myself out of it.

Delaney: Fine. One conversation. Main Street. Public. After that, you leave me alone.

The reply comes almost instantly.

Marcus: Thank you. I’ll be there in half an hour, outside the bakery.

The speed of it makes my skin crawl.

I lock my phone and press it face down on the dresser, breathing hard.

Okay.

I can do this.

I get dressed slowly. Jeans. Boots. A sweater that feels like armor. I pull my hair back, not because I owe him neatness, but because I don’t want anything in my way.

I pause in the hallway outside my room, listening.

Silas’s voice drifting from the kitchen, animated as ever. The smell of coffee reaches me.

I consider telling them.

Just blurting it out. Letting them come with me. Letting someone else hold the line.

But this is my fight.

And if I don’t do it myself, he’ll always think there’s still a door open.

I grab my jacket and slip out quietly, heart pounding all the way down the porch steps.

Main Street is already alive when I get there.

Tourists browsing shop windows. Locals loitering with coffee cups. The hum of normalcy makes my skin itch with the wrongness of what I’m about to do.