His fingers trembled as he tried to piece the torn papers together, desperation in every movement. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“Say something, Debbie!” he yelled, seizing my arms and forcing me to meet his gaze. “Why can’t you just understand? You and your jealousy are ruining everything!”
I stared into his striking blue eyes, my expression calm, my voice composed. “You’ve got it all wrong, Alpha. I’m not jealous,” I said steadily. “The letters were damaged—bookworms had gotten to them. They were full of holes, falling apart. There was nothing left worth saving.”
That was partly true. Some letters were indeed ruined, but the real reason I didn’t preserve them was that I no longer cared to.
He looked again at the torn pieces in his hands, the fury in his expression softening into reluctant acceptance. “You could’ve let me deal with it,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. “I could’ve saved them. Tearing them up... it’s like you’re ripping apart everything we’ve built.”
“Some things can’t be fixed, Darrell,” I responded softly, forcing a faint smile. “Sometimes, you have to release the past to find peace.”