Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I just needed to handle her problem.
Then move the fuck on with my life.
Maybe if I was lucky, I could see if Reign and Fallon would transfer me down to our sister chapter in Golden Glades, Florida. Maybe if I got far enough away from it all, I could start to move on.
"Niro."
"What?" I asked, keeping my back to her, trying to pull myself together.
This was my problem after all.
I didn't need to pull her into it, make her feel like shit over it.
"Turn around," she demanded, voice soft, and damn her if that didn't still have an effect on me. So I did.
"What?"
There was a long pause as she took a deep breath, clearly not knowing what she was going to say, just needing my attention.
Finally, she decided on it.
"Tell me something happy."
"I can't think of anything," I told her truthfully.
To that, she chewed on her lower lip for a second, looking for some kind of courage.
"I can."
I didn't have time for this.
I needed to get the information I needed from her about the cartel. And then I needed to get as far away from her as fast as possible.
"Andi, we need to focus on this cartel shit. We don't have time for games."
"You always used to play."
"I always used to do a lot of things I don't do anymore," I told her, watching as she started to move closer. "What are you doing?"
"I can think of something happy," she repeated as she stepped in front of me, hand reaching out to take mine, her smooth fingers gliding over my work-hardened ones. I'd spent too much time in my youth thinking about how much smaller, how much more fragile her hand looked when it was in mine since Andi was a hand-holding sort of friend.
"What are you..." I started as she turned my hand, sliding it down her belly, slipping it lower.
"Like when your hands are on me," she admitted in a whisper-soft voice. Her gaze flickered up, but shot back down during the admission. Shy. Unsure.
"Andi, don't," I demanded just as softly, trying to focus past the warm of her I could feel even through the layers of her clothes, trying not to remember the feel of her, the sounds of her. "You don't have to do this," I added through gritted teeth.
Her gaze shot up as her hand dropped mine like I'd burned her. Pink bloomed across her cheeks as her eyes widened, went glassy.
"Why do you hate me so much now?" she asked, tears spilling over. "What did I do? I don't understand."
Fuck.
Of course she would think it was something she did.
It wasn't.
It was just everything she was.
And the fact that all of that was something I wanted but knew I didn't deserve to have.
It was about me, about this self-loathing mingled with self-denial, all the years of love mingled with the knowledge that I couldn't have her.
"I could never hate you," I told her, reaching down to lift her chin, waiting for her gaze to find me. "Do you understand me? Never."
"Is it because I took Nugget away from you?" she asked, sniffling. "We can share him if it will make things better."
"No. But yes. But no again."
"It can't be both."
"It can," I told her.
I had no business explaining this. Not only was it not the place or time, but there would never be an appropriate place and time. This was shit I was supposed to take to my grave with me.
Still, the words didn't stop coming.
"He was the only piece of you I had left. And when he was gone," I said, searching for a way to explain it that made any sense at all outside of my own head. "And when he was gone, I knew it was time to fully let go of you too."
"You never had to let go of me. I never asked you to do that."
"I had to."
"But why?"
"Because it hurt too much, Andi. It fucking hurt too much. It had been hurting for years. And I just needed it to stop."
"I... I never meant to hurt you," she said, voice small.
"I know that. You've never intentionally hurt anyone in your life," I added. "It wasn't your fault. It was my problem."
"What was your problem?" she asked, and I didn't know if she was genuinely that clueless about it, if I had been that good at covering it up, or if she needed her hunch validated.
At this point, I wasn't sure how much else there was to lose. Or how much worse I could feel.
Besides, she was bound to find out the truth someday.
And it was my confession to make.
Still, I found the words stuck at the back of my throat for a long moment. Habit and fear keeping them from coming out until I took a deep breath, releasing it.