Chapter 2: When Doubt Breaks the Spell

But Jenna didn’t seem to share my excitement.

She hesitated, her eyes dropping to the floor. I felt a flicker of doubt, a chill in the air that hadn’t been there before.

She lowered her head, hesitated, and finally spoke. “...I can’t even hope for that. Just being with you is enough.”

She could barely get the words out. I stared at her, thrown off by the words I never expected to hear.

The smile faded from my face.

A heavy silence settled over the room, thicker than any snowfall. My chest tightened, confusion and hurt battling inside me.

Her long lashes fluttered, so delicate and sad.

She looked so small, so vulnerable, and I hated that I’d somehow made her feel this way. I reached for her hand, but she pulled away, just a little.

For a long moment, the room was silent. Finally, I spoke in a low, heavy voice. “I never realized... you thought this way.” Had I really missed this?

Hearing my somber tone, Jenna looked up at me in panic, stammering, “Logan...” Her eyes were wide and shiny with tears. She looked like she was about to break, and I felt something inside me crack, too.

Her eyes shimmered with tears, her gaze full of hurt.

It was the kind of look that made you want to wrap someone up and never let go. But I held back, waiting for her to speak.

“My family’s got nothing—how could I be worthy of being your mate?”

She blurted it out, all raw nerves. I felt a pang of anger—not at her, but at the world that made her feel so small.

Jenna never spoke of her life before joining the Hale family, and I’d never asked.

It was an unspoken rule between us. I knew her past was hard, but I’d always hoped she’d left it behind. Now, I saw it still haunted her.

But I could guess—it must have been hard.

I’d heard whispers around town, bits and pieces of her story. None of it was fair, and none of it should matter now.

I’d thought that, after all these years in our home, I’d helped her heal those old wounds. But today I realized it wasn’t enough.

Guilt gnawed at me. I’d been so sure she was happy, so sure I was doing everything right. But scars like that don’t fade so easily.

Not nearly enough.

I clenched my fists, wishing I could go back and do more, say more, make her see what I saw.

Her past had left a mark, like a shadow that followed her everywhere. She’d learned to make herself small; Jenna kept fading into the background.

It made me ache, seeing her shrink away from her own happiness. I wanted to shake her, to make her see she was worth everything.

“Before the Hale pack settled here, Grandpa was just a lumberjack. Grandma’s dad ran the bait shop.” I kept my voice steady. “How are you any different?”

I tried to show her—our family wasn’t built on money or status. We came from hard work, from humble beginnings. That’s what made us strong.

Everybody comes from somewhere. Doesn’t make you better or worse.

I looked her in the eye, willing her to believe it. In Silver Hollow, everyone’s story started somewhere small.

I softened, telling her with conviction, “Jenna, you’re wonderful and strong. I’m not letting you talk yourself down.” I meant every word.

“When I choose a mate, status means nothing—only happiness matters.” I meant it. Every word.

Her hand was still in mine, but her head was bowed. I could tell she still had doubts.

Her shoulders hunched, and I could feel her slipping away, lost in old fears. I refused to let her go.

Sometimes, you have to be harsh to get through. Sometimes, kindness isn’t enough.

My voice went cold, as if speaking to a stranger, stating the facts: “Hales don’t keep anyone on the side.”

I set my jaw, making sure she heard every word. There was no room for half-measures or maybe-laters. It was all or nothing.

“If you won’t be my mate, you can only be like a sister—or go back to being just a friend, just a packmate.”

I laid it out, clear as day. I couldn’t have her half in, half out. It wasn’t fair to either of us.

“If you won’t be my mate, someone else surely will.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. I watched her face crumple, the realization hitting home.

She trembled, looking up at me in growing panic.

Her grip on my sleeve tightened, desperation flickering in her eyes. I felt her fear, her uncertainty, and it nearly undid me.

“Logan...”

Her voice was so small, so lost, it broke my heart. I steeled myself, knowing I had to push her, just this once.

Seeing her expression, I understood.

She was terrified—terrified of losing me, of being left behind. But she needed to see what was at stake.

Jenna truly believed that, given her background, she could only stand on the sidelines. She’d never even considered that there might be someone else between us.

It was a blind spot, born of old wounds. I needed to wake her up, even if it hurt.

“I can’t be close to you anymore.” I cut her off, firmly pulling my hand away. “My mate wouldn’t like it.”

I made my voice as cold as I could, forcing her to imagine a world without us. It hurt, but it was the only way.

“You don’t need to make my clothes or cook for me anymore. My mate will take care of everything.”

I listed it all out, each word a little colder, a little sharper. I wanted her to see what she was giving up.

“If you want to leave our family, I won’t stop you. If you want to stay, that’s fine too.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, but my hands shook. The thought of her leaving was almost too much to bear.

“The Hales will treat you like an honored guest. After all, you’ve looked after me for so many years. That’s the least I owe you.”

I forced myself to look away, biting back the urge to pull her close. I owed her the truth, even if it hurt.

I said all this coldly, watching tears well up in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks and disappearing at her neck.

Each tear felt like a knife, but I stood my ground. She needed to hear it, needed to understand.

Jenna clutched my sleeve, choking back sobs. “Logan, please—don’t treat me like this...”

Her voice was ragged, full of pain. I almost caved, but I held firm, knowing this was the only way to break through her walls.

No, this is exactly what I had to do.

Sometimes, you have to risk everything to get to the truth. I braced myself, heart pounding.

Otherwise, how would Jenna ever face her own feelings?

If I kept coddling her, she’d never see her own worth. I had to be cruel to be kind, just this once.

The elders always said she spoiled me, but didn’t I spoil her just as much?

We’d always been wrapped up in each other, giving and taking in equal measure. Maybe too much.

Now, just treating her like anyone else, she couldn’t bear it.

She’d gotten used to being special, and I wanted her to see that was her place—by my side, not in the shadows.

I could hear her sadness and pain, but I pretended not to, cutting at the softest part of her heart, over and over.

Each word was a blade, but I kept going, hoping she’d finally see what I saw.

“But if you stay, I’ll never let you be just a friend. You’ll have to watch me and my mate be happy together, day after day.”

I spelled it out, leaving no room for doubt. I wanted her to see the future she was choosing.

“My mate will be the one closest to me.”

I let the words hang, heavy and final.

“You’ll just be an outsider.”

The word stung, but I needed her to understand. She wasn’t meant to be on the sidelines.

I ignored her pleading eyes, uncrossed my legs, stepped onto the footstool, and got up to leave.

The room felt colder without her touch. I steeled myself, forcing my feet to move, even as every instinct screamed to turn back.

“Logan—” Jenna called out desperately, still clinging to my sleeve, refusing to let go.

Her grip was fierce, her voice raw with emotion. I paused, caught between pride and longing.

I stopped and looked at her, but said nothing.

Our eyes met, and for a second, I saw all the years we’d shared—every laugh, every secret, every promise. It almost undid me.

After a few breaths, Jenna leaned forward.

She moved slowly, as if every motion hurt. I watched, heart in my throat.

“Logan, you’re not wearing socks or shoes—the floor’s cold, you’ll catch a chill...” Her voice trembled as she reached out, wanting to put my socks and shoes on for me.

Even now, she worried about me. That was Jenna—always caring, even when her own heart was breaking. I almost let her, but I couldn’t.

Looking down at the faint veins on my feet, I spoke coolly, just as her hand was about to touch me.

“If you’re not my mate, what does it matter to you?”

The words were harsh, colder than the floorboards. I saw her flinch, but I forced myself to keep going.

With that, I turned and walked away, not looking back.

Every step felt like a mile. I could hear her breathing, shaky and desperate, behind me.