BLURRY | SPRINA

Chapter Nineteen

Wyndemere Castle, Spoon Island
Saturday
11:00 a.m.

Spencer's finger hovered over the call button, his jaw clenched as he stared at Trina's name on the screen. His mind conjured up images of her with Jasper—laughing, sun-kissed, wrapped up in the warmth of Puerto Rico. The thought made his stomach twist. He could ruin it, disrupt whatever moment they were sharing, remind her that he still existed.

His thumb twitched, but he hesitated. Would she even answer? And if she did, what would he say? That he missed her? That the thought of her with another man was driving him insane? That he was suffocating under the weight of regret?

Before he could decide, a familiar voice rang out from the hallway.

"Spencer!" Esme's saccharine tone sent a shiver of irritation down his spine. "Are you home?"

Her footsteps grew closer, stopping right outside the library. The doorknob twisted, but the lock held firm.

He heard her sigh, followed by the soft retreat of her footsteps.

For a fleeting moment, guilt pricked at him. She was carrying his child, and this wasn't how he was supposed to treat her. He should be attentive, involved—at the very least, civil.

But then came the resentment.

Something about her felt off, like an itch beneath his skin he couldn't scratch. The forced smiles, the calculated words, the way she always seemed a step ahead of him. It unsettled him in a way he couldn't explain.

Keeping his distance was the only thing keeping him sane.

And yet, sanity felt like a luxury he was slowly losing—one missed call at a time.

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Rincon Beach Cafe
San Juan, Puerto Rico
Saturday
12:00 p.m.

The golden sunlight shimmered over the ocean, casting a warm glow as the waves kissed the shore. Trina sighed in contentment, tilting her head back as the breeze played with her curls. The trip had been everything Jasper promised—relaxing, beautiful, and, most importantly, a much-needed escape.

Jasper sat beside her at an open-air café, his sunglasses perched on his nose as he sipped a rum cocktail. "You're enjoying yourself," he observed with a smirk. "I knew this place would be good for you."

She smiled, twirling the straw in her drink. "It really is. It's been a long time since I've felt this... free."

Jasper's eyes softened, but before he could respond, something—or rather, someone—caught his attention. His body tensed ever so slightly, and he shifted in his chair, angling himself protectively toward Trina.

"Jas?" she asked, noticing the shift in his demeanor.

He didn't answer immediately, his gaze locked on a man sitting a few tables away. He was dressed casually—shorts, a linen shirt, sunglasses—but there was something calculated about the way he moved, his posture too rigid, too aware.

Jasper cursed under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Trina asked, following his line of sight.

Jasper forced a smile, reaching for her hand. "It's nothing," he said smoothly. "Finish your drink, babe."

Trina narrowed her eyes at him. "Jasper."

He sighed, knowing he couldn't dismiss her concerns so easily. Lowering his voice, he leaned in. "I think we have a problem."

Her stomach twisted. "What kind of problem?"

"That man." Jasper nodded subtly toward their stalker. "I recognize him. He's connected to some... business my family has been dealing with. Let's just say, he's not a fan."