Hearts on Broadway (Book 2)

Chapter 8 - The Breaking Point

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft beams of light across the room, but Georgie felt none of its warmth. She lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, her body heavy with the weight of the decision that had been haunting her for days. Every breath felt labored, as though she were carrying an invisible burden that refused to lift.

Beside her, Morgan stirred, his arm reaching out to pull her close. For a moment, she allowed herself to sink into the comfort of his embrace, his warmth a fleeting solace. But it didn't last. The knot in her stomach tightened, and the familiar voice in her head reminded her that she didn't belong here, not like this—not when she felt so broken.

"Morning," Morgan's voice broke the silence, soft and groggy. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "How'd you sleep?"

Georgie swallowed hard, forcing herself to reply. "Fine."

It was a lie, of course. She hadn't slept much at all. But she didn't have the energy to tell him that. She didn't have the energy to tell him anything, really.

Morgan shifted beside her, sitting up and stretching his arms. "I was thinking we could take Jackson to the park today. Get some fresh air, maybe grab lunch at that little place you like. What do you think?"

Georgie didn't answer right away. She sat up slowly, the bed feeling too big and the room too quiet. The idea of going out, pretending everything was fine, felt impossible. But how could she tell him that? How could she explain that every moment she spent here—every smile she forced, every word she spoke—felt like she was drowning a little bit more?

"I'm not sure," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I don't know if I'm up for it."

Morgan frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. "Hey, what's going on? You've been really quiet lately."

Georgie's throat tightened. She could feel the pressure building, the unspoken words threatening to spill out. But she didn't know how to say it, didn't know how to explain that she was on the verge of leaving, of walking away from everything they had built together.

"I'm fine," she lied again, standing up from the bed and moving toward the window. She stared out at the yard, watching as the leaves rustled in the gentle breeze. But all she felt was stillness, an emptiness she couldn't escape.

Morgan stood up and crossed the room to her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "You're not fine, Georgie," he said softly. "I can see it. You've been distant for a while now, and it's scaring me. Please, talk to me."

Georgie closed her eyes, her heart aching at the worry in his voice. She wanted to tell him the truth. She wanted to tell him everything—how she felt like she was failing him, failing Jackson, failing herself. But the words caught in her throat, tangled with fear and guilt.

"I'm just tired," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm just tired, Morgan."

Morgan's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly, his voice filled with concern. "Tired of what? Tired of me? Of Jackson?"

"No," Georgie said quickly, turning to face him. "No, it's not you. It's not Jackson. It's me. I just... I don't know who I am anymore. I feel like I'm losing myself, and I don't know how to stop it."

Morgan's eyes softened, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. "You're not losing yourself, Georgie. You're going through something really hard, but we'll get through it together. You don't have to do this alone."

But Georgie couldn't let herself believe him. The distance between them felt too vast, and no matter how much she loved him, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was dragging him down. She could see it in his eyes—the worry, the frustration, the helplessness. He was trying so hard to hold everything together, but she was unraveling faster than he could keep up.