Parts of Us (The Game #14) Read Online Cara Dee

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Taboo Tags Authors: Series: The Game Series by Cara Dee
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Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
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Emotions welled up so fast that I had no time to blink back the tears before they rolled down my cheeks. I coughed and hurriedly wiped them away, to no avail. Oh fuck, right in the gut. What had I done?

Please choose us.

I had to cough again, and I swallowed repeatedly, instantly worrying Noa. KC calmly took my phone and read the message, then let out a long breath and hugged me to him.

I can’t watch you kill yourself.

“What did he write?!” Noa demanded.

I don’t know what would hurt the most…

This was wrong. So fucking wrong. I was going in the wrong direction. I understood I needed to rest. We’d stopped on the way home to pick up my prescription of anxiety meds that I’d ignored for two weeks. Or three. I didn’t recall exactly when my doctor had offered them to me, just that I’d scoffed at the notion.

But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t go home and sleep yet.

I could only think of one bold gesture that was good enough, and it was the most obvious one. I was done. I’d finally reached my limit. I didn’t care about my goddamn clients anymore, nor did I care what my superiors would say. It wasn’t as if I was aiming to become partner anymore. I’d lost that desire years ago, and yet I’d continued working as if I had nothing else to live for.

“Stay in the car,” I said abruptly.

KC killed the engine and furrowed his brow.

I scratched my forehead and glanced at my SUV in the carport. We could take that instead—actually, no. KC could drive.

“Give me two minutes,” I added and removed the seat belt. Then I stepped out and⁠—

“What do you think you’re doing?” KC asked.

I remembered I didn’t have my keys, so I stuck a hand inside the car again. “Let me borrow your keys. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are we going?” Noa asked from the back seat.

“To my office,” I replied.

The fact that they eyed me with disbelief-tainted anger in the first two seconds let me know how bad I’d been. For even that brief moment, they’d assumed I was going to work or to bring work home with me.

Noa was the first to switch over to hope. “Are you quitting?”

I nodded.

KC’s gaze softened, but he hadn’t run out of suspicion quite yet. “Actually quitting or cutting down?”

“Actually quitting,” I said.

KC handed over his keys. “I guess we can muster up enough energy for that trip.”

I smiled, my heart thrumming a little faster. “Let me just change into sweats and a hoodie first.”

Hell had officially frozen over.

“You okay, hon?” KC asked.

I swallowed and offered an automatic nod, only to remember that bullshitting with the people I loved had gotten me into this mess, so I shook my head. Right around the same time KC drove us down into the same garage where I’d parked my car for almost eighteen years.

I’d once been a lowly intern here.

Floor by floor, I’d climbed all the way up to my corner office on the sixteenth floor, overlooking the Potomac and DC. Where I also had a nice office. The firm had expanded about seven years ago, and in DC, our clients were real estate moguls and bankers. In Virginia, they worked in finance, security, and oil.

A far cry from the investors in penny stocks where I’d started out.

I’d traveled the world on the company dime.

My work hadn’t brought me happiness in years, though. At some point, I’d lost my interest in goals and adding another zero to my bank accounts. It wasn’t as if I’d spent much of it. I’d had very little vacation time or days off. I’d pushed myself for no fucking reason. Except a sense of pride in being the best.

For what?

KC pulled into my parking spot, and I let out a breath.

It was the right time to quit and walk away, but it still unsettled me. Maybe I should think this through. Maybe I should find a compromise—for fuck’s sake, I was sick. No, I had to quit. Cold turkey. I’d already fucking tried the slow exit strategy. Something had always sucked me back in, whether it was my excuse or my boss’s.

I had to walk away.

I had nothing here but a few photos of Cam, KC, and Noa.

Please choose us.

“We can do this another day when you’ve rested up more,” KC murmured.

I shook my head.

No, I had to do it now.

“I don’t belong here anymore.” With that said, I opened the door and stepped out. We were surrounded by Lexuses, Jaguars, and BMWs. My colleagues wore suits worth more than what most people made in a month. Or four… Hell, I was one of them—and it had to stop.

I looked at the rows of gleaming cars and suddenly saw nothing but billable hours away from family and loved ones. We let ourselves be distracted by high-status gadgets, bonuses, and promotions so that we’d ignore the late-night meetings, the ulcers, the headaches, and the sheer fucking pressure you felt when you knew that the piece of advice you offered a client could earn or lose them millions of dollars.


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