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)
Shit.
I’ve got to get a hold of myself, or better yet, get the fuck out of here before it’s too late, but we all know that isn’t going to happen.
As the minutes tick by, the condensation drips down the side of my glass, and I remain seated, pleased the bar is full enough to keep me concealed. But that goes both ways. I might be concealed from her, but with the bodies filling every corner of this bar, she’ll be concealed from me too.
When the fuck did I sink so low as to stalk my ex-girlfriend?
The door opens, and my gaze snaps toward it with pure desperation, just as it has every other time, and fuck. There she is—a radiant fucking angel.
My breath catches in my throat, and I have to remind myself to breathe. She looks fucking stunning. Black thigh-high boots, a short black skirt, and an oversized sweater that falls off her creamy shoulder—the very shoulder I used to bite when she came.
Her long brunette hair flows out with the breeze of the open door, and as it falls closed behind her and she starts looking around the bar, I turn my back, not wanting her to see me. Movement to my right catches my eye, and a guy who looks and dresses just like me stands and gives her a beaming smile, his eyes lighting up with appreciation.
Bri smiles back, but after two years of learning her inside and out, I can tell she’s nervous and really doesn’t want to be here. She’s determined though, and she’s going to see it through, even if it’s just to get my sister off her back.
Bri approaches the guy, and as she gets closer, I notice her perfect body has changed. She’s a lot smaller than she used to be. She’s fucking skin and bone, and it does nothing but piss me off. Don’t get me wrong, she’s still fucking gorgeous, but she doesn’t look healthy. Her skin used to hold a beaming glow, and now . . . she looks flat. Like she’s struggling to survive.
She reaches her date, and just as I thought, he leans in and places a soft kiss on her cheek—a hollowed-out cheek that used to be plump. Guilt rests heavy in my gut, and I know I should leave, but I can’t look away as they start their introductions.
The date pulls her chair out, and she hastily takes her seat at the table. From here, I can see her perfectly. She smiles and laughs with him, and while I recognize it to be fake, he’s eating it up like he’s already scored for the night.
The longer I watch them, the harder it gets to withstand, and I find my hand clutching my glass so hard, I fear it might shatter under the intense pressure.
This is fucking torture. I can’t endure another second.
Common sense returns to me, and I get up to leave, but Bri’s eye catches my movement. I suck in a breath, motionless as I watch her gaze shift to me, those gorgeous green eyes landing on mine for the first time in five long months.
The world fades around us, and as she looks at me, her face pales, undeniable pain rocking through her stare. The longer I stand here, the harder it gets, and not wanting to make this worse than it needs to be, I take my chance to get out of here.
I swallow hard over the lump in my throat, finding it fucking impossible to breathe as I sail through the back exit, my whole world knocked off balance. I beeline straight for my truck, feeling like a fool for showing up here tonight. I should have left her alone. Should have allowed her peace to figure out her next steps.
I’m halfway to my truck when I hear the broken voice of an angel calling out from across the lot. “Carter,” Bri says, a whimper in her tone that has me coming to a stop, unable to fucking move.
I don’t want to turn around. I know I shouldn’t. It’s only going to make it that much harder, but her broken tone has me turning and walking straight for her. There’s nothing I can do to make this better, but at the very least, I owe her an explanation.
Bri meets me in the middle of the parking lot, barely a breath between us. She crosses her arms over her chest as if trying to protect herself, and a moment passes, neither of us knowing where to go from here.
Unshed tears linger in her eyes, and when she finally looks up at me, I have to ball my hands into fists to keep from reaching out and pulling her into my chest. “What are you doing here?” she finally asks, working hard to control the emotion in her voice, but I hear it loud and clear.