Violet didn’t know. But she was certain of one thing now.

Megan hadn’t killed that cat. She didn’t carry the imprint on her. Violet had been wrong. And the truth stung. Knowing that she’d accused this girl of something so unspeakable. And that she’d fought with Jay because of it . . .

Jay.

How was she going to fix this? How was she ever going to explain it to him?

What if he wouldn’t listen?

Violet watched numbly as Megan got into a car with her friends, and she realized that she needed to stop her from leaving. Maybe none of it had been Megan—the cat, the phone calls, the note—but Violet had accused her, and now she needed to apologize. Even if the other girl didn’t understand why.

Violet’s fingers fumbled with the door handle, feeling clumsy and unsure. But she was already too late; the other car was pulling out of the parking space, and Violet stared helplessly as it drove away.

Violet hesitated outside the auto-parts store. She didn’t want to interrupt Jay at work, but from where she stood she could see he was alone in there, and she couldn’t go one more second without talking to him.

She needed to tell him that she’d been wrong.

As she pushed the door open, Jay looked up from behind the counter and saw her. Her heart lodged in her throat, making it impossible to breathe.

Her face crumpled, and the speech she’d practiced was lost on a whimper the moment she saw him racing around the counter to reach her. He didn’t say anything right away, just gathered her in his arms, squeezing her to him. It was his way of saying he was relieved she’d come.

She buried her face in his jacket, inhaling his familiar scent. She clung to him, unable to stop herself, even though she didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve him.

“God, Violet, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. . . .” He pressed his face against the top of her head, and she realized then that he needed her as much as she needed him.

She moved closer, molding her body against his, afraid that if they parted, somehow the moment might crumble. His arms tightened as if he knew what she was thinking, and she could feel his heartbeat thrumming beneath her own skin, bringing her back to life.

She tried to tell him, to explain, but her voice failed her, coming out on a strangled sigh.

Jay must have misunderstood the sound, and his grip tightened, pinning her against him.

“Don’t, Violet. Please, just listen to me. I can’t take it anymore. You win. I was wrong. I should never have doubted you. I do trust you. I love you, and I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to be . . .” He struggled to find the right words. “. . . without you.” And then, finally, his arms slackened, releasing her, giving her the choice again. She felt his shoulders slump, and his heart shudder. “Please . . .”

Violet didn’t want him to be sorry, but she couldn’t speak just yet. She shook her head, rubbing her cheek against his chest, trying to make him understand. She moved her arms around him, beneath his jacket, and clutched his shirt in her hands, refusing to let him go.

That was all the encouragement he needed, and his hands were on her, touching, reassuring. He held her. He kissed the top of her head. And her cheeks.

He waited for her to be ready.

And when her heart rate returned to normal, she tried again. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Jay,” Violet finally insisted, and this time her voice didn’t falter. “I was wrong . . . about everything. I shouldn’t have been so quick to jump to conclusions, or to force you to admit that I was right. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” She trembled, and Jay pressed her against him again, lending her his calm.

“Shhh . . .” he whispered into her dark curls.

“No, let me finish.” She cleared her throat, tipping her head back so she could look at him.

She felt bad for what she saw there. His eyes were bloodshot, and Chelsea was right: He seemed worn down. It was the same way Violet felt.

But when he smiled at her, all lopsided and sweet, everything felt better. He was beautiful. And he was hers. Still, she needed him to understand.

“Jay, it wasn’t Megan.” The words felt hot against her throat, like poison.

The smile vanished, and Violet’s stomach tightened as she searched for the right words.

“What are you saying?” Jay asked, confused.

“It wasn’t Megan who killed the cat. Either it wasn’t her who I saw at the house that night, or it wasn’t an imprint at all. I saw her today. She didn’t kill anything. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” She was pleading with him, hoping he understood.

He didn’t say anything right away, but Violet knew that something was wrong. She could feel it. His body stiffened, and she felt him move away from her, slightly—barely—but enough. The gap felt vast.

She was suddenly aware of where they were standing. That they were still in the auto-parts store. Somehow, surrounded by Jay’s arms, Violet had forgotten where they were.

“Jay, don’t,” Violet begged.

Maybe she hadn’t said it right. Maybe her explanation had fallen short and he didn’t understand. She needed to try again.

“Please, I can’t be without you either. I don’t want to be apart anymore. I was trying to tell you I was wrong—”

But she didn’t get a chance to finish, because Jay pulled her back, squeezing her against him, this time leaving no space at all. He leaned over her, wrapping his arms, and his body, around her, and she could feel him shaking his head.