When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2045

Jocelyn shook her head so hard that her ponytail whipped across her shoulders. "No. I won't sleep unless I know he's safe. I have to find him, Yannick."

Her determination had left her distracted for days. Yannick's patience finally cracked, and the question slipped out before he could stop himself.

"Jocelyn... do you still love him?"

The question hit her like a slap. She froze, breath caught halfway.

Her lashes lowered, shielding eyes that suddenly dared not meet his.

Yannick watched that tiny, telling movement and felt the truth drop like a stone in his chest.

She had warned him from the start, had explained every tangled feeling in clear words, yet the actual sting of it still surprised him.

Jocelyn's fingers curled into a tight fist. She opened her mouth to answer.

Yannick raised a hand. "Don't worry about it. I asked on impulse. You don't owe me an explanation."

The air between them thickened, his own emotions crowding his lungs until every breath felt shallow.

Jocelyn was not the most perceptive woman, but even she sensed the weight pressing on him now.

She lifted her chin and managed to meet his gaze at last. "Yannick... I'm sorry."

He forced a crooked smile. "For what? You haven't done anything wrong."

Words clogged her throat, as though stuffed with cotton.

Yannick cleared his voice—and the moment. "Come on. I'll drive you."

She stayed rooted to the pavement, shaking her head.

"No, I'll take a cab. You should get back to work." Her refusal landed with quiet finality.

After all, what fiancé spends the night searching for the man his fiancée secretly pines for?

Yannick's shoulders sagged. "All right. If you need me, call."

He made no further protest.

She nodded once. "Mm."

A taxi slid to the curb. Jocelyn climbed in, then looked back through the open window. "Thank you."

Yannick said nothing. He simply watched the taillights disappear into the street's glow.

Only after the cab vanished did he drop into his own car and smash a fist against the steering wheel, the leather muffling his muted curse.

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