Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“Well, if you’re not there for her, someone else will be.”
My heart’s in my throat. That’s the only explanation for what I feel. It’s not in my chest where it’s supposed to be. Only pain lingers there.
“I want to kill him. That Jacob fuck.”
“Now I know that one isn’t serious.”
“He’s seeing my wife!” I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming, but Mason doesn’t react.
He’s silent as my rage slowly subsides.
“What would you do?” I ask him out of desperation as I imagine her calling him. Alone and desperate for someone to take away her pain.
Mason answers with a shrug, “Kill the asshole.”
“You’re a real wiseass, you know that?”
“It could be worse,” he says.
“How’s that?”
“She cried for a while when she got back from dinner with Jules.”
I wait for him to continue, not understanding. “Why was she crying?”
“After seeing the guy, she cried all night. She’s not moving on. She’s not okay, Evan.”
“What am I supposed to do? She’s everything to me. And all I can see, all I dream about at night is her dying because of me.” Mason doesn’t answer me.
No one has an answer for me. “If I lose her, I have nothing. There’s no reason to live if I don’t have her.”
“You could always go with the locking her in a room option. She likes her office, right?” Mason jokes and I don’t know whether to thank him for lightening the mood, or punch his fucking face in.
“Do you think James would go after her if I took her back?” I ask him. “Tell me honestly.”
“If someone wanted to hurt you, the first thing they’d do is go after her.” Mason says exactly what I already knew, and I rest my head against the window.
“He still might, but the chance of that seems low. Right now, James is only interested in three people: you, Samantha, and a man named Andrew Jones. Obviously, a cover.”
Before I can ask, Mason adds, “We’re paying him a visit soon. As soon as we track down his location.”
I nod, agreeing with the plan, but all I can think about is that prick with his hands on my wife.
“What if we paid Jacob a visit?”
“You really think that’s the way to go? Like Kat won’t find out?” he asks me, and I grit my teeth.
“What if she goes home? What if you go home? Just be quiet about it. Rent a hotel room and make sure you’re seen there for your tail. But go to her at night and make sure she keeps quiet.”
“Kat can’t keep a secret for shit.”
“She’s talking about going back home anyway. You’re going to need to be there.”
“You think she’d be okay with me just slipping in at night? Maybe if I told her what’s going on. But in and out, coming and going as I please? She’d kill me.”
“Don’t tell her shit. Are you fucking crazy?”
“Lie to her? Kat’s always been able to see right through me. Lying is what made all this worse.”
“I’m not saying lie to her. I’m just saying this is how it has to be. Right now, she needs comfort … She’ll take what you can give her.”
“James thinks you’re with Samantha, so be seen with her, then head over to your place.”
The very idea of being seen with Samantha makes my stomach coil. “You want my wife to hate me?”
“It’s the only real option you have right now,” he says and looks me in the eyes to add, “She’ll never know.”
He’s a fool to think that. She’ll find out. There’s no fucking way I’m going to do that to her. She deserves better than that.
Chapter 17
Kat
I have to tell Evan about Jake, but he doesn’t want to talk to me.
He’s ignoring me. Intentionally hurting me.
Yet there’s still a sense of obligation. As if I owe it to him to let him know that I’m moving on now. I’ve finally got a grip on my self-respect, but I need him to know it. I roll my eyes at the thought and heave out an aggravated sigh.
I don’t care if it’s weak or pathetic. He was everything to me.
I nearly trip as I realize what I thought. Was.
Is it really over? I struggle to breathe in the cold air as I think maybe a small part of me wants to move on. No, that’s not it. It’s simply accepting that it’s time to move on.
Say something, I’m giving up on you … song lyrics play through my head as my throat dries and I force myself to keep walking up the sidewalk to 82 Brookside. Evan’s family home.
The sad lyrics of the soft song are what keep me from knocking on his door at first. I attempt to compose myself because if Evan doesn’t open this door, or worse, he does but doesn’t hear me out? Then I have no hope left.