Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
“You’re walking out on this?”
“I have to, Rhy. It’s become too risky. Too high-stakes. You made me fall, but you will not make me shatter. I have to do this. For me. For my daughter. I have to get away.”
“I love you, and you’re turning your back on me, just like them,” he said quietly.
Them. His parents. Hurting him destroyed me, but I knew he’d move on if he understood.
“No, Rhyland. I’m turning my back on myself. You deserve more than I could give you. I won’t let you settle for a woman who would never be willing to fully give you her heart.”
“Even if I’ll settle for less?” His eyes darkened.
“Especially if you do,” I said quietly. “You are worthy of the kind of love you are willing to give.”
He was about to argue, but I shut him up by crashing my lips against his. The kiss that followed put me somewhere between heaven and hell, stuck in a limbo of unbearable physical pleasure and an excruciating heartache. His mouth claimed mine hungrily, tongue finding my own, and before I knew it, he was on top of me on the floor, my hands fumbling with his belt as he hiked my red dress up, tugging my panties to one side. We didn’t have time to get undressed. We both knew it was goodbye. It tasted as much, the bittersweetness of it exploding in our mouths and dripping down our chins.
And I loved him, in that moment, more than I’d loved anyone else in my entire life.
Because I knew that he was giving me a piece of him to keep before we parted ways.
RHYLAND
I was nursing my third bottle of whiskey since Dylan left when my door came down, followed by Row’s chilling baritone reverberating, “Timber!”
Unflinching, I kept my glazed stare on the TV. I had no idea what the fuck I was watching—I just knew Dylan always watched it when she lived downstairs. A bunch of grossly underage and over-fuckable doctors in a TV drama. I couldn’t remember what season I was on, but I was eighty-three percent certain most of the cast members had already died in the most unlikely way possible, and whoever hadn’t died had left. I was beginning to get to the root of Dylan’s trust issues.
“Is this…puke next to you?” Row’s repulsed voice hovered somewhere above my head, and I spotted the tip of his combat boot shuffling a Chinese takeout container around.
“Could be refried rice. Your guess is good as mine,” I slurred into the rim of my whiskey bottle, taking another swig.
“Why are you watching Grey’s Anatomy, man?”
“Waiting for a nip slip.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“Tempted to. Finishing it all seems like a grand idea.”
Row snorted, ignoring my theatrics. “Why not just watch porn?”
“As a former sex worker, I’m diligent about ethically sourced porn. You’d be surprised to know how hard it is to come by. All puns intended.”
Row picked up the container in front of me, sniffing it and making a face. “Definitely day-old vomit. I’m staging an intervention.”
“Great.” I jumped off my couch nimbly. Or maybe I was more drunk than I realized, because I bumped against my coffee table and almost smashed it. My toe did feel like it was bleeding. “Tell your sister to come. She might convince me to go to rehab.”
Row made what I guessed was his version of a sympathetic face, scratching at the stubble on his jawline. His wedding band gleamed. Cocky asshole. What did he care? He’d gotten his happily ever after. I should probably ask how Cal was doing, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care about anyone who wasn’t my own sorry ass.
“Look, man, I’m sorry. I always thought you’d be the one to break her heart, not the other way around.” Row sucked his teeth.
“How come?”
“Figured you don’t possess one.”
I grunted in response. I hadn’t thought I owned one either. Not until Dylan avalanched her way into my existence with that sassy mouth, which also happened to know how to suck my nuts using just the right amount of pressure. I stared off into the middle distance.
Row flicked the nape of my neck.
“Ugh. What was that for?”
“I could practically see across your pupils a porno of you and my sister. What the fuck?”
I pushed him off, staggering my way to the hallway and into the bathroom for a piss. I bumped into every wall, piece of furniture, and goddamn atom in the air on my way there. How shit-faced was I? The answer was probably thirteen.
Wait—what was the question?
“Why’re you here?” I slurred as I flicked the toilet seat up (a habit I’d never possessed before Dylan), aimed my cock, and started pissing.
“Bruce is blowing up my phone asking where the fuck you are, and I was in town, so I thought I’d check on you.” I heard my best friend weaving around the house, picking up dirty dishes, planting them in the sink. “Oh, and Tate mentioned something about how you might have offed yourself sometime this week. He said you were unhinged on his plane.”