Jordan never touched me after that night.

And I never asked him to.

We never spoke about that night again, either; both of us either too embarrassed or too ashamed to put it into words.

At night, we lay side by side in bed, our entwined hands the only parts of our bodies touching, and during the day, we passed each other like ships on separate journeys.

I wanted to speak to someone about how conflicted I was feeling, about how distraught I was inside, but there wasn’t anyone to tell.

My family wouldn’t understand, and Noah and Teagan were finally happy for what felt like the first time in forever. I didn’t want to bring them down with my bullshit drama, so I kept it inside, and told nobody about how absolutely broken I felt inside.

I didn’t feel like facing them anyway, and had avoided contact with them all week, choosing to stay at home and work on my book. I didn’t have the energy to pretend I was happy anymore, which, evidently, worked wonders for my work.

It became very clear to me that conflict and misery were an author's best friend. I had finally accepted that my life was shit, and it was doing amazing things for my writing. I had managed to finish on Tuesday.

It was with my editor now, who had emailed me every night since, raving about how this was my best work yet. I seriously doubted it, but took comfort in the knowledge that my work life was stabilizing.

I would have the book in time for the signing in Aspen next month.

Aspen.

My heart plummeted at the thought.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that I had been organizing the romantic hotel suite, with champagne and rose petals and all that bullshit I had thought, in my naïve state of mind, would heal the rift in our marriage.

Yeah freaking right.

"Are you hungry?" Jordan asked, stirring me from my reverie.

I looked up from where I had been daydreaming and saw him standing in the kitchen doorway with a brown takeout bag in his hand. "I got Chinese."

My heart broke at the sight of him.

He was so beautiful.

So beautifully broken.

It hurt to know that there was nothing I could do to make it better, but I accepted it now.

I couldn’t fix him.

I couldn’t heal the broken pieces inside of him.

Acknowledging that caused another piece of my heart to chip away.

Forcing the dark thoughts from my mind, I smiled brightly and said, "Starving."

* * *

Jordan

"I'm going to try harder, Keychain," I said, breaking the silence that had settled between us, as I watched her from across the table.

I'd brought home her favorite Chinese food tonight, hoping that I could somehow make up for the life I'd dragged her into. Make up for being me.

Hope looked up at me with those big, blue eyes of hers and my heart squeezed tightly in my chest.

"I'm fine, Jordy," she replied with a small smile that didn’t meet her eyes. "Don’t worry about me."

She ducked her face again, concentrating on the plate of food in front of her, and it made me want to groan in frustration.

Hope was still here.

Still trying.

Still fighting for me.

For what was left of us.

Except she wasn’t with me anymore.

Not completely.

Yeah, she was sitting in the chair opposite mine. She was with me in the flesh, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

And it was all on me.

That wild, carefree girl I'd spent my life adoring?

She was gone.

I'd broken her spirit.

My life had sucked the happiness out of hers.

And now, she was living with everything I had tried to protect her from.

I watched as he ran her fingers through her wild curls and bit back a pained sigh.

She was magnificent.

So damn beautiful.

But her mind was the most beautiful part of her.

It was like a dark abyss of secrets.

I knew she was keeping things from me now.

I also knew I deserved it.

I wondered if I would ever be granted entry into that inner circle she seemed to reside with.

Deep down inside, I knew there was a part of Hope Carter unattainable to me now. A piece of her heart closed off and retired. It belonged somewhere else.

I just hoped that the biggest part still belonged to me.