Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I don’t know,” Declan says slowly. “You and Sadie have been chilling for a minute, so I wasn’t sure if you guys were wanting your own space or if she’s planning to officially move in.”
When I glare at him, wondering where the fuck this is coming from, he raises his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just saying, if you want Sadie to move in, I’m okay with that. If you guys want your own place so you can fuck somewhere other than the bedroom, I’m not about to cock block.” He shrugs.
“It’s not like that,” I mutter.
“Gage,” Declan says softly. “You know it’s okay to move on, right? It’s nice seeing you with someone since Tori died. You deserve to be happy.”
The mention of Tori causes a huge fucking ball of emotion to clog my throat, making it hard to breathe. One second, I was making a goddamn sandwich, and the next, I’m struggling to find my next breath. My heart picks up speed, pounding so hard behind my rib cage that it feels as though my entire body is pulsating.
“Gage, you okay?” Braxton asks, but I’m too lost in my thoughts to respond. My hands are clammy, and my body breaks into a cold sweat. Fuck! Did I have a bad hit? But even as I mentally ask the question, I know it’s not the coke. It’s me…
“Gage…” I vaguely hear Braxton and Declan talking, but the blood roaring in my ears drowns out the words.
Tori.
Moving on.
Sadie.
Happy.
No. No. No. Fucking no.
That’s not what’s going on with Sadie. She’s grieving like me and needed a place to crash. We’re smoking, chilling, fucking. It’s nothing more than that. I’m not capable of anything more than that.
Sandwiches and friends forgotten, I stumble down the hallway, needing some space. Some fresh air. Needing to get high and make all these thoughts go away.
When I get in my room, I grab a joint from my drawer and am walking to my balcony when Sadie exits the bathroom, dressed in nothing but my shirt and some tiny as fuck panties.
“Hey,” she says, smiling softly, her green eyes warmly meeting mine. She saunters over, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my lips. “Where’s the food?”
My heart swells in my chest, and I push her away. “What are we doing?” I choke out.
Her lips turn down into a frown. “Umm… I thought we were going to eat. Are you not hungry?”
“No.” I shake my head, stepping back. “What are we doing?”
She opens her mouth then closes it, unsure of what to say. “Umm, we just had sex,” she says slowly. “I figured we would eat and then go to bed. It’s late… Are you feeling okay?” She brings her palm up to my face, but I move before she can touch me.
Her worried tone. Her sad, confused eyes.
“Gage, talk to me,” she says, and I can hear it in her voice. She cares about me.
I glance around, taking in my room. Her lotion is on my nightstand, her clothes are hanging over my chair. The TV is paused on her show. She’s become a part of my life.
Our routine. The cemetery, the talking and fucking.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I warned her. I told her I couldn’t be that guy.
She said she understood.
“Gage, you’re scaring me,” she says, her voice cracking. “What’s going on with you? Did something happen?”
This woman is grieving. She’s lost her entire fucking world and has nothing left to live for. No reason to give a shit about anyone or anything. Yet here she is, worried about me. Caring about me.
My eyes lock with hers, and for a moment, my future flashes before my eyes.
Letting her in.
Letting her love me.
Loving the hell out of her.
Creating a life with her.
All I ever wanted was to create a life with you…
Tori’s letter…
My hands hit my knees as her last words to me play back in my head.
Dear Gage,
Let me first start by saying how much I love you. If you’re reading this, it’s because I’m gone, and for that, I’m sorry. They say suicide is a selfish act, and I never understood that until now because even as I write this letter to you, the only guilt I feel about ending my life is that I’m hurting you. You’re not only my boyfriend but also my best friend, which is why it’s so hard to write this letter. There are some things you need to know. But before I tell you, I need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone. I’m only telling you so you understand that my taking my life isn’t because of you. If anything, the only reason I didn’t do it sooner was because of you. Because of how much I love you. Every time I imagined my future, it was with you. All I ever wanted was to create a life with you. I thought I could be strong, but I’m not. I’m weak.