Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Oh fuck.
Abort. Abort. Abort.
“Shut up,” Cassie snaps at her brother as my hands shake with the overwhelming need to disconnect the call. I go to do it, but the thought of hearing his voice makes me feel as though I can breathe properly for the first time in five months.
Since the day Cassie got back from her honeymoon, her relationship with Carter has been strained. While she loves him immensely, she can’t find it in herself to forgive him, and that’s on my shoulders. She sees how broken I am, and I’m sure that the moment I start healing, she will too.
Cassie continues reaming out Carter. “You forfeited any right to know about her the second you broke her heart.”
Oh dear God, please save me.
“Fuck, Cass,” Carter growls at his sister. “Just ask if she’s alright.”
“Clearly she is if she is asking me to come over to drink the night away,” Cass says before the background noise fades away, as she clearly walks away from Carter. “Shit, Bri. I’m so sorry, I just answered the call without thinking. I should have walked out of the room first.”
“No, don’t be sorry,” I tell her. “He’s your brother. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need to mask your conversations in front of him. I just . . . I didn’t realize you were with him tonight, otherwise, I would have called later.”
“Don’t stress,” she tells me. “He’s a total turd.”
“He’s not a turd,” I murmur, still so defensive of the man who broke my heart. But there’s no denying it, my heart still belongs to him. I still crave his touch, still want everything that he is. His only fault was wanting me to have the life I want, one he couldn’t give me. Fuck, thinking about it only hurts that much more.
“He is, Bri, and the sooner you accept that the better,” she tells me. “Now, what the hell happened with this car accident? Are you alright?”
“It’s a long story that starts from seven o’clock this morning,” I tell her.
“Right . . . so, two bottles or three?”
“Four or five would be good,” I say.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” she promises.
True to her word, there’s a rap on my door precisely thirty minutes later, and I jump up from the couch and make my way toward the door. Though sitting on the couch was a mistake, my body is starting to feel stiff after the accident. I need to keep moving. Hell, I don’t even want to think about how sore I’ll be in the morning.
Reaching the door, I grip hold of the handle and yank it open, my bottom lip already wobbling. “Hi,” I murmur, willing myself not to break down and fall into her arms.
Cass takes one look at me, puts a bunch of grocery bags down on the floor, and throws her arms around me. She holds onto me so tight that I melt into her, soaking up every ounce of her comfort. Cass may be my best friend, but she’s also the closest link I have to Carter, and there’s just something soothing about being held by someone who shares the exact same eyes. It may be odd, but when she’s around, I feel that much closer to Carter.
“Start from the beginning,” she orders, releasing me before picking up the bags and striding into my apartment. She walks right into the kitchen, putting three bottles of wine into my fridge before helping herself to the already half-empty bottle of Moscato on the table.
We get comfortable on the couch with blankets and cushions before I get stuck into the bullshit otherwise known as my day.
Cassie has been everything to me over the last five months. After suffering her own devastating breakup with Jax a few years ago, she truly understands my pain. The only difference is, Cassie got her happy ending with Jax, whereas there isn’t going to be one for me and Carter. I just have to learn to accept that it’s never going to be like how it was.
“You know what?” Cassie says when I finish my recap of my day from hell. “I think you need to take Byron up on his offer to go on a date.”
I gape at her. Surely someone slipped her a little something before she came over here because she’s clearly not thinking straight. “You’re insane,” I tell her.
“No, you’re insane. I think a hot date is exactly what you need. Shake off those cobwebs growing in your cooch and get back in the saddle,” she tells me. “Byron isn’t going to be the next great love of your life, but he’s a stepping stone, and you’re never going to learn to open yourself up for happiness if you don’t give it a try. I know you don’t feel ready, but I really think this could help you.”