Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 151333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
He has to be devastated.
A few moments ago, his bedroom door slammed so hard the walls shook and Gus ran, tail puffed out three times its size, to hide under my bed.
Worried, I sit on the floor and coax Gus into my lap. When she curls up on me, I pet her long, gray fur until she forgets about the big, bad noise and purrs with contentment. The house feels eerily empty and quiet, as if I’m the only one here, and the man down the hall is now nothing more than a ghost, void of breath and a soul.
I wait for an hour, but then I can’t take the silence anymore. I pick up my phone and send him a text.
Me: Are you okay?
Fifteen minutes tick by before the three little dots show up on my screen.
Jude: No. I’m not.
My heart cracks.
Me: Can I come see you?
Earlier, before he left for his job estimate, he said he missed me and wanted to see me. Maybe he still does, and we can talk about all this and try to find some sort of closure for him.
Jude: Only if you want to end up on the receiving end of my rage.
I think I can deal with that.
I go down the hall to his room, hesitating for a second at his closed door, and then open it without knocking. I find him sitting on the edge of his bed in the dark with nothing but his jeans on and a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
Oh, shit.
From what I’ve put together, Jude’s not an alcoholic. He used to drink a lot, but his real problem was with drugs. Now he’ll occasionally have a beer when he’s chilling out, but I’ve never seen him drink hard liquor.
Silently, I cross the room and kneel between his legs. He looks wrecked—his eyes are puffy and his face is blotchy, and his hair looks like he’s run anguished hands through it a hundred times.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, slurring his words. “I’m in a really fucking bad mood.”
I lay my hands gently on his knees. “I promised for better or for worse, remember?”
He scowls and tips the bottle against his lips. “That’s all bullshit.”
“It’s not,” I say softly. “I think we both know that.”
“I don’t know shit.”
“I’m sorry about Erin. I know how much you love her.”
He takes another gulp of whiskey and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “I don’t love anyone.”
My heart constricts. “You don’t mean that.”
He throws me a nasty look that chills my bones. “Yeah, I really fucking do mean it. You have no idea. I’m done with this bullshit. I’m sick of being treated like dirt and thrown away like trash. Fuck. It.”
“I do have an idea. I know exactly what it feels like. For once I’d like to be the one worth staying for and not the one that’s easy to leave and forget about.”
“A-fucking-men.” He raises his bottle to me. “I’ll drink to that.”
Shaking my head, I grab the bottle away from him and put it on his nightstand.
“I think you’ve had enough to drink.”
“I think you’re being a fuckin’ bad wife.”
Our little joke isn’t funny when he says it with such anger and hatred dripping from his voice.
I let out a slow sigh. “Jude… tonight had to be really hard for you. Do you want to talk about it?”
He runs both his hands through his hair to clutch the back of his head. “No. I don’t wanna talk about her. Ever.” His eyes close for a long moment as he takes a few deep breathes. “I’m either gonna get drunk off my ass or have my brains fucked out. Give me the bottle back, or strip.”
So, this is how it’s going to be—self-destruction mode flipped on. Walls up and locked into place.
I’m not deterred.
Leaning back on my heels, I untie the sash of my robe then slowly let it slip down my arms and off my bare body. He watches the red silk pool on the floor beneath me, then drags his gaze up to my face.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Getting ready to fuck your brains out.”
He sucks in a harsh breath. “We did that already,” he says roughly.
“Oh?” I ask, determined to do whatever it takes to show him I’m here for him, no matter what. “Was it a one-time thing, then?”
Not taking his eyes from mine, he picks up the whiskey and takes another defiant swig. “Yup. This shit ain’t happening between us, Sparkles. I’ve fucked up enough.”
I snatch the bottle out of his hand again and put it back on the nightstand.
“We’re doing this, not that.” I cast my eyes over at the liquor.
“Don’t mess with me, Skylar. You’re not gonna like it if I put my hands on you like this.”