Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Seems I do actually know this chick. She was January's best friend growing up, one of very few girls at school who didn't treat her like shit for being with me. Teenage girls can be vicious. Mariah was never one of them. She treated my girl like January deserved to be treated. I'm still grateful to her for that.
"What do you want?" she asks, stepping into the doorway like she's trying to block me from seeing inside. With no shoes on, she's not much taller than my girl, so it's a useless attempt.
"I'm here to see January," I mutter, raking a hand through my hair. I don't know why this chick is glaring at me like she wants to break the stem off of her glass and shiv me with it, but damn. Okay, that's not true. I know exactly why she wants to shiv me. Her loyalty to January is as solid as ever.
"Well, she doesn't want to talk to you." She lifts a perfectly penciled brow and looks me up and down. "Why are you even here anyway, Michael? You did enough damage when you walked out and left her. Why couldn't you just stay away?"
Walked out and left her? What the fuck?
"I didn't wa–"
"Mariah? Who is it?" January says from behind her, her words slurred. She peeks around Mariah's arms, her green eyes going comically wide when she sees me. She's got her hair piled up on top of her head. Her face is flushed, and her pupils dilated. She's wasted. And still so perfect it hurts to look at her.
"Are you drunk, little monster?" I ask, my voice soft. Clenching my hands into tight fists, I try to keep myself from snatching her up. Part of me wants to spank her ass for getting wasted with no one except her equally as drunk friend here to take care of her. The other part desperately wants to know what she's like when she's drinking. Is she a happy drunk? A horny drunk? I don't know. Titan and I never let her drink.
She was too fucking young. We were too goddamn overprotective.
Tears well in her eyes. "Don't call me that," she whispers.
"Why not?" I whisper back, fighting like hell to stay where I'm at instead of wiping those tears away. She’s always been my baby girl—the adorable little monster I created. Titan always gave me so much hell for spoiling her, telling me I’d live to regret it. I never did. Not fucking once.
"Because I'm not yours anymore. You didn't want me."
"Fuck."
She nudges Mariah, forcing her to open the door wider. Even as a tear slips down one flushed cheek, her eyes narrow, and her nose scrunches up. She sways on her feet before grasping the doorframe to keep herself upright. If she wasn't so goddamn beautiful, the glare she shoots me then would be killer.
"You came back for another woman," she says, a thousand different emotions flowing through those emerald eyes too quickly for me to read. "I prayed so many times for you to come back for me, but you never did. You came back here for her."
What the fuck is she talking about?
"Little mons–"
"Don't call me that!" she shouts at me, her voice so loud it borders on shrill.
I snap my mouth closed. Turns out, drunk January is feisty and a little bit frightening. And I don't have the first clue how to handle her like this. I don't know why she thinks I came back here for another woman, either. There is no other woman for me. There never has been.
Did she really pray for me to come back for her?
"January, let's go inside," Mariah murmurs, tugging gently on her arm.
January brushes her off.
"Why, Cade?" she asks me, still crying. "Just tell me why."
"Why what, ba…January?" I ask, my soul fucking bleeding. I shove my hands into my pockets in a last-ditch effort to keep from grabbing her and dragging her into my arms. Watching her cry is killing me. Knowing that I'm the reason for her tears is even worse.
How could she not know she's the only woman I've ever loved?
How can she think for even a second that I'd want anyone else?
Because you haven't been here, you fucking idiot. That's why.
Jesus.
I never even fucking tried to move on. It’s always been her face I saw, her body I wanted. Her name I called out when I jerked off. She haunted me, every goddamn minute of the day. She hates me, and I don't blame her for that. But she's always going to be the only one for me. I stopped trying to fight that truth a long time ago.
It hurts like hell to think that maybe she's been living the same way.
How fucked up is it that part of me is over-the-moon elated she wanted me to come back? Her happiness has always been more important to me than my own, but part of me is glad I wasn't the only one suffering. And that's precisely why I don't deserve her.