Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I thought he felt like shit, that he was embarrassed by his actions and couldn’t face us because of his own inner bullshit. That sounds like the Chase I know.
I love that fucker. Die for him if it came to that.
But maybe I was wrong.
Maybe he’s being sneaky.
Maybe they both are.
Payton’s tense laugh reaches me. It invades my mind and sweeps through me, the sensation calming and right, but then my brain catches up.
He made her laugh.
He made her laugh, and she won’t even talk to me.
She’s talking to him.
He knows what she likes to drink.
“Are you two fucking?”
Gasps and sputtered curses fill the air, but I hold the gaze of the girl who’s breaking my fucking heart here.
“Tell me the truth.”
“Mason. Please,” she whispers, but her eyes scream so much more.
They tell me how disappointed she is, how out of all people I should know the answer to that question. That I shouldn’t have to ask it in the first place.
But I do.
“Did you make him a promise, too?”
“Stop,” she begs.
“Did he tell you that—”
“You’re drunk, man. Just quit talking before you say somethin’ you regret.” Chase steps around the corner. “Let’s get you back to the house, huh? You need to—”
“You need to stop trying to get with girls who aren’t available!”
Payton turns beet red, Ari gasps, and Noah’s eyes grow wide.
Brady steps up with his hands raised. “All right. Enough. Let’s take a breath here, and—”
“Fuck you, Mason.” Chase cuts him off.
“Nah, fuck you!” I shoot to my feet, my arm shooting out to keep balance. “I’m trying to talk to her.”
“Not like this.”
Rage rolls through me, and even my spine starts to shake. “You think you can speak for her?”
“You guys,” Brady tries again.
“At least she’s speaking to me!”
My fist flies so fast no one’s stopping it. My knuckles come down across his cheek, and Chase’s head snaps to the side.
Instantly, everyone screams and shouts.
Security barrels over, and I hear my friends yelling, but my feet are already being dragged across the floor. I’m eating a mouthful of dirt in seconds, my head pounding, vision as foggy as a winter morning.
Someone helps me to my feet, and when I look into Chase’s eyes, I yank away.
“Get off me, man.”
“I’m helping you, jackass.”
“No, you’re fucking with me. Everyone is.”
He shakes his head, and I stomp my way toward the Airbnb, the soft murmurs and footsteps of the others not far behind.
When we reach the door, I stumble to the side, letting someone else open it.
No one bothers to tell me to come in, so I let it get shut in my face, wondering when the wall behind me is going to stop wobbling.
Who knows how long I stand there, but eventually a waft of warmth greets me as someone steps out.
“Oh my god, your hand.” Soft fingers brush my wrist, but I yank it back.
“Don’t pretend to care.” I blink, pretty blue eyes coming in and out of focus.
“That’s not fair,” Payton whispers.
“You know what’s not fair?” I rasp, my head rolling to the opposite side, lids too heavy to keep open. “What you said and what you’re doing. You’re killing me.” I breathe, forcing my lids to open and meet the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. “I’m fucking dying here, baby.”
Her beautiful face is blurred, so I raise my hand to make sure she’s really there, that I’m not imagining it. The second my knuckles meet her silken skin, I jolt. Pain slices through me, and I stumble away in panic, gripping my wrist.
“Fuck.” I look at my hand, but there’s too many fingers there. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I jerk, stumbling into the house, and manage to find my way to the bathroom.
I struggle to reach the faucet of the sink, finally figuring out how to get the damn thing on and shove my hand under the stream. “Shit!” I yank it back, the water too hot.
I reach up again, but soft fingers gently curl around my shoulder, sliding down my spine, and my head falls to my chest, the sensation shutting off everything else. All I feel is her.
God, I want more.
“Let me help you,” she murmurs.
“You can do whatever you want to me, Pretty Little. Anything. Always.”
Payton grabs my other hand, leading me who knows where, but I follow like an eager pup, and then I’m sitting on something soft. My eyes close, only opening again when a cooling sensation meets my knuckles.
Strawberry-blond hair and puffy pink lips hover above me, like my own little angel.
“Where’s my little man?”
“Sleeping. I laid him in the playpen before I came back outside to get you.”
I nod, my head turning when the bed shifts. Payton sits on her knees, gently setting the bag of ice over my knuckles.
Several quiet minutes go by before she speaks again, and when she does, it’s a low, torn whisper that claws at my insides. “I know things are…” She shakes her head, unsure what the right word is or unwilling to say it.