Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Ry-”
“You have your shit together, Pres. You’ve…had…your shit together for years! Well, I don’t! This shit is all fucking new to me, and I’m doing the best I fucking can. And sometimes realizing that I’m fucking up or have fucked up or that I’ll never be more than a fuck up gets the better of me, and I try to hide that shit from you because the last fucking thing I need is to give you another excuse to walk away from me – from us – again.” Sniffling away the tears I didn’t even realize arrived is swiftly done. “But fuck it. I’m done trying to have any fucking pride here. You wanna know something, fucking ask. Anything, and I’ll tell you. Even if it means you start looking at me like the walking disappointment I pretend not to be.”
“You are not a disappointment,” my girlfriend quietly argues, body inching towards mine. “I’m disappointed that you feel like I’m judging you instead of loving you.”
There’s no stopping my head from falling forward.
“I don’t give a shit how imperfect you are, Ry! We’re all imperfect! We’re all out here trying our fucking best, and if that looks a little different for you than it does for me, oh the fuck well!”
Darting my stare back up to hers is instantly done.
“Stop giving me half-ass versions of yourself because you don’t think I can handle all of you! You did that shit to me back then, you will not fucking do it to me now!”
“Have all of me then!”
She steps closer at the challenge. “How many times did you wanna smoke today?”
“I stopped counting after twenty-two.”
“What drug do you miss the most?”
“Pot.” I swipe to ignore Law’s call again and plant my hands on the island top. “Soothes the anxiety. And I’m. Always. Fucking. Anxious.”
Sympathy slathers itself in her stare.
“What else?” my pushing ramps up my heartbeat as much as my need for a drug-filled outlet. “What else do you wanna know?”
“How many women have you slept with?”
“Hundreds.”
Her face sneers, and I force myself to face her.
To let her see that I hate seeing that shit.
Being this shit.
“Have you ever had an STD?”
“Twice.”
“How many of them did you l-”
“Fucking. None.”
The corner of her bottom lip receives a bite. “Do you find your friend Kara attractive?”
“Yeah.”
My answer isn’t what she wanted but the openness I struggle to provide is absolutely the only thing that’s going to save us. “Do you wanna have sex with her?”
“The only woman I wanna have sex with is staring me in the face asking me would I like to have sex with someone I created a friendship with because she was the only person who knew exactly how much it hurts to be this fucking broken inside.”
“I love every fucking piece of you whether it’s broken or dirty or tarnished or fucking shining, Ryder.”
Having her say my full name breaks whatever dam was holding back tears.
“Accept that.”
No matter how much I try to hold my jaw steady it won’t.
“And for fucks sake, answer your phone.”
I brush away a fallen tear and pick up the device. “It’s just Law.”
“If he’s the one who’s been calling you this entire time, Ry, it’s probably important.”
“Nothing in this entire fucking world is as important to me as you.”
Her arrival in the kitchen is followed by a gentle cupping of my cheek. “I know, babe.”
“Do you? Because I’m not dealing with any other shit until I know this,” my hand gestures to the space between us, “is gonna be okay.”
She offers me a soft loving smile. “We’re gonna be fine.”
“Swear?
“Swear.”
I finally hit answer and lift the device to my ear. “Yeah?”
“Why the fuck weren’t you answering my calls?” Law profusely panics. “Where are you? What the fuck is in your hand right now?”
His pushiness wrinkles my brow. “My phone. Why?”
“And where are you?”
“With Pres. Dealing with,” the right set of words escapes me, “relationship shit.”
His lack of response strikes me the wrong way.
“Why are you worried that I’m suddenly using? What do you think triggered me?”
There’s instantly a heavy-hearted sigh out of him. “There was a report of a young woman who died of an overdosed in her apartment early this afternoon. They’re not giving out exact details at this time, but it’s rumored that the sleeping pills she took were laced with fentanyl.”
Suddenly, all the blood in my body seems to be rushing to my ears.
“The young woman was Kara, Collins.”
My mouth moves, yet I can’t seem to say a single thing.
“One of the paramedics recognized her from a support meeting. Word spread among the sponsors. I was calling to see if you knew and needed someone to talk to.”
Numbness spreads until my vocal cords are completely useless.
“Do you need to meet me? Do you need me to come to you?”
My gaze meets Pres’s that’s silently begging for me to reach for her rather than push her away like instinct commands. I keep our eyes locked while stating to my sponsor, “No, I’ll talk to Pres.”