A Curse for True Love (Once Upon a Broken Heart, #3)

He’d been so sharp that night, so cold that the fog had still clung to his boots as he walked.

She remembered telling herself that night not to turn around. Not to look. And when she had looked at him, she’d tried to glance for only a second.

But it had been impossible. Jacks had been the moon and she’d been the tide, controlled by his impossible force. That much had not changed.

Heart or no heart, she still wanted Jacks to be hers.

But this Jacks wasn’t hers.

There was something in his pale hands, a jar he was tossing as if it were one of his apples. Only it wasn’t an apple. It was his heart.

Evangeline’s own heart broke a little at the sight of him, tossing his heart so carelessly as if it were a bit of fruit that he’d dispose of, instead of something unspeakably precious and beautiful.

The heart looked like rays of sunlight before they melted into the horizon. The jar was full of so many colors, mostly gold, but there were sparks of iridescent light that burst against the jar, making the gold look as if it were pounding.

Meanwhile, Jacks looked completely unmoved. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you!” Evangeline shouted.

She hadn’t meant to shout. Her plan hadn’t been to yell at him, her plan had been to finally tell him how much she loved him. But seeing him, treating his heart so recklessly and negligently, made her scream, “What are you doing?”

“I think you already know the answer, pet. You just don’t like it much.” Jacks tossed the jar higher up in the air.

Evangeline didn’t think—she just leaped forward with outstretched arms, reaching for the heart. Her fingers touched the jar, but Jacks caught her first.

He put his hand at the base of her throat. His grip was strong enough to hold her at bay, to keep her away from grabbing the heart in the jar. Yet he wasn’t hurting her. His fingers were not bruising in their grip.

Either he was trying to be careful because of the protection cuff on her wrist. Or . . . he didn’t want to hurt her because the nearness of his heart was giving him some feeling.

The light inside the jar pounded harder, as if it were fighting to break free. And Jacks no longer looked entirely unmoved. His blue eyes were almost feral in their brightness, as if he were trying to fight off the feelings that were creeping back in.

“You should go,” he ground out.

“Why? Because you’re going to burn your heart, and once you do that, you think you’ll hurt me? You’re already hurting me, Jacks.”

She reached out—not for the jar, but for him.

His jaw felt like a rock, hard and implacable beneath her fingers. He clenched it even tighter and shook her hand away.

“If I try to hurt you, the cuff will stop me,” he said roughly.

“I’m not talking about physically.”

My heart, it hurts.

And it did. Evangeline had never felt so close and so far away from someone all at once. His cold, hard hand was still on her throat, his eyes were locked on hers. But it was a look that said this was the last time he’d be touching her, the final time.

This was all there was for them.

He wasn’t giving up. He’d already given up.

“How can I make you understand,” he growled, “you and I together don’t end well. We just end.”

“How can you know that if you haven’t even tried?”

“Try?” Jacks laughed and the sound was awful. “This isn’t something you try at, Evangeline.”

The laughter died on his lips, and the fire in his eyes went out. For a second, Jacks didn’t look like a Fate or a human, he looked like a ghost, a shell that had been emptied out and tossed in the waves too many times. And once again, Evangeline thought about how his heart had been broken over and over, so many times that it couldn’t hope, it could only fear.

“This is something that gets one chance to be right or wrong, and if you’re wrong, there’s no trying again. There is nothing.”

Silence filled the space between them. Not even a leaf on the tree dared to rustle.

Then so softly she almost didn’t hear it, Jacks said, “You were there, you saw what the cuff did to me when I tried to kiss you.”

Something like shame filled his eyes and Evangeline didn’t know how it was possible, but he looked even more fragile than before. As if it would take less than a touch to break him, as if the wrong word might shatter him into a thousand pieces.

“This is as close as we get,” Jacks said.

He stroked her throat, and she knew that in a second, he was going to let her go. He was going to release her, pluck a leaf, and set his heart on fire.

Evangeline felt terrified to move, petrified of speaking for fear of saying the wrong thing. Her hands were shaking and her chest felt hollow, as if there was a hole and the hope was draining out of her as well, disappearing into the same place that had stolen all of his hope.

But she knew where that place led and she refused to go there.

“I love you, Jacks.”

He closed his eyes as she said the word love.

She hoped a little harder. She wanted to ask him to look at her, but all that mattered was that he didn’t let her go.

“I used to wonder if fate was real,” she said gently. “I used to fear it meant that I had no real choices. Then I secretly hoped fate was real and that you and I were fated, that by some miraculous chance I was your true love. But now I don’t care if fate is real—because I don’t need it to decide for me. I don’t need it to make this choice. I’ve made my decision, Jacks. It’s you. It will always be you, until the end of time. And I’ll fight fate or anyone else who tries to tear us apart—including you. You are my choice. You are my love. You are mine. And you are not going to be the end of me, Jacks.”

“I think I already am.” He opened his eyes and they dripped red tears. “Let me go, Evangeline.”

“Tell me you won’t set fire to your heart, and I will let you go.”

“Don’t ask me to do that.”

“Then don’t ask me to let you go!”

His eyes bled more tears, but his hand held tight to the jar. “I’m broken. I like to break things. Sometimes I want to break you.”

“Then break me, Jacks.”

His fingers tensed against her neck. “For once I want to do the right thing. I can’t do this. I can’t watch you die again.”

The word again scraped against her like a thorn. “What do you mean, again?”

“You died, Evangeline.” Jacks pulled her closer until she could feel the ragged rise and fall of his chest as he rasped, “I held you in my arms as it happened.”

“Jacks . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never died.”

“Yes, you did. The night you opened the Valory. The first time you did it, I didn’t go with you.” He went silent for a moment and then she heard him think, I couldn’t say goodbye.