Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“Don’t do this,” I beg, one last shot, voice raw. “Don’t leave me.”
She steps close, presses her trembling lips to my cheek — not my mouth, not where I need her — and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Then she opens the door and walks out.
I don’t follow.
I can’t.
Because I promised her I’d give her whatever she asked for.
And this time, she asked for the one thing I don’t know how to survive.
The door closes.
The house is silent.
And for the first time in my life, I’m gutted in a way no fight, no bullet, no blade has ever managed.
Because losing her isn’t just pain.
It’s losing myself.
The house doesn’t sound right without her.
It’s too quiet.
Too clean.
Too dirty.
Too empty.
Her toothbrush is gone. Her pillow’s cold. The faint scent of her shampoo clings to the bathroom, mocking me every time I walk past.
And the damn ring box sits on the counter, staring at me like an open wound.
I keep opening it, like maybe the stone will have an answer written in it. Like maybe if I stare long enough, I’ll understand how she went from yes to goodbye in what feels like the blink of an eye.
It doesn’t talk back. It just glints at me, cruel and silent.
Unable to find solace in my silence, I do the only thing that comes naturally. I drink instead.
The first night, I down half a bottle of Jack and punch the wall until my knuckles split. When I don’t make it to the job site and neither does Jami, my foreman calls Crunch. He shows up the next morning because I wouldn’t answer any calls, curses under his breath when he sees the hole, and hauls me to the sink like we’re kids again. He cleans me up while muttering about how love makes idiots of us all.
“Where’s Jami?” he asks finally.
“Gone,” I reply flatly.
“Gone where?”
“Don’t know.” I slam the cabinet shut harder than I mean to. “Don’t wanna know.”
His eyes soften, and that pisses me off more than if he’d yelled. “You need to talk about it, Tommy.”
“I need a drink.”
“You need to dry out and come to work. I don’t know what is going on. I’ll get Jenni to get up with Jami. Whatever it is, we will sort this shit. But can’t do that with you drunk as fuck.”
“She asked me to let her go. So leave her to it.” The words roll off my tongue leaving only bitterness in their wake.
“Dammit, brother, how long have you been drinking?”
“Two days and I plan to make it three.” So I pour one, right in front of him, and dare him to stop me. I toss back the drink and pour another.
“You want me at work. I’ll be there tomorrow. Today, you need to leave me alone, Rhett. I need you to leave me alone.”
Rhett studies me.
“Never asked you for shit. Put up with every binge you ever had. Now, brother to brother, I’m asking you to get the fuck out of my house and trust I’ll be at work tomorrow.”
I wait thinking he’s going to give me some speech from his treatments and his sobriety. He doesn’t. He just leaves, shaking his head.
The days blur. I keep my word though, I show up to work.
Worksite. Drink. Clubhouse. Drink. Sleep. Drink.
I pick fights everywhere I can. With Crunch, with prospects, with anyone dumb enough to step in my path. Nothing serious, just enough to bleed off the fire boiling inside me.
Tank corners me one night after I mouth off at Tripp. “You think this is the way to fix it?” he growls, eyes hard.
“Wasn’t asking for a fix, Pops.” I snap back reminding him that while he may be my Hellions VP, he is also my damn dad. “Just trying to fucking feel something besides empty.”
He sighs, heavy. “She’s in your blood, son. But drowning yourself in whiskey ain’t gonna flush her outta your fuckin’ system.”
I slam my glass down. “What the hell do you know about it? You and mom, the great Tank and Sass. Ain’t neither of you ever walked away from each other once you claimed her.”
“Boy, you need to dry out. There is so much I put your mother through before she was mine. And the fact that she even granted me the second chance to even kiss her once again is something I’ll never take for granted again. You’ll see. Jami will come back and you’ll hold on tight, but dammit son, give her a good man to come back to not this fucking mess you are right now.”
“Fuck you,” I spit out wanting to challenge him.
He doesn’t answer. He just walks away. And that hurts worse than if he’d punched me.
At night, the bed is the worst.
I lie there staring at the ceiling, remembering the way she curled against me, the way she’d hook her cold toes under my calf to warm them, the way she sighed in her sleep like she finally trusted the world to leave her alone.