Southern Secrets (Southern #7) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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I bend to pick up his T-shirt on the floor beside the bed and bring it to my nose. The sob comes through me when I sit on the bed. I’m shocked and stunned. Never would I have imagined this. Never would I have thought that he would be the one to do this to me. To lie to me.

I look over at the side table, seeing his stuff on there, and my hand goes to my stomach. I look over at the corner of the room where his stuff is on the chair. He’s everywhere I look, and I know that I have to get out of here.

I walk to the closet and grab a bag when I hear the front door open and slam shut. My hands shake when I hear the footsteps come closer and closer, the bag dropping on the floor.

I turn to walk out of the closet when I see him standing there at the entrance to the bedroom. I look at him, and my heart shatters in my chest. I was right about one thing. I will not get over him. "Baby," he says, his voice in a whisper, and I shake my head. I hold up my hand, no words coming up over the lump in my throat.

"Don’t," I finally muster out. "I don’t."

"Listen to me, please," he says, taking a step into the room. My body aches for his touch, wanting him to put his palm on my cheek and his thumb to wipe away the tears that don’t stop pouring out.

"There is nothing to say," I say, anger starting to take over. "You’re a liar." Three words I never thought I would say to him.

"I never lied to you," he says, his voice tight. "Never."

"Omitting that you were half brothers with Ethan," I say as I step out of my closet, "is the same as fucking lying." I lash out at him.

"What I told you about myself was the truth," he says. "Everything I told you was my truth."

"You used my family and me," I say, and it’s his turn to take a step back as if I slapped him across the face. "You came here knowing who you were and who we were." I shrug my shoulders. "I was just a stupid girl who fell in love with you." I shake my head. "Or was that a lie, too? You know, get more into the family before you told us who you really were."

"Nothing," he hisses. "Nothing between us was a lie. I love you, Amelia. I love you with every fucking bone in my body. I love you with every fiber of my being. I love you with every breath I take." I ignore the way my body wants to go to him. I ignore the pull of his words. I ignore it all. "You don’t think it killed me every single day waking up next to you having this on my mind."

"Well, obviously not enough to let you tell me the truth." I swallow the pain in my chest, the burning in my stomach starts to grow. The fear of breaking down in front of him, making the back of my neck burn. He doesn’t deserve to see you fall, I tell myself. "I did it again," I say, my voice trembling no matter how much I fight it off. The tears come, and I have no more energy left to stop them. All I know is that I have to get out of here before I crumple, and he doesn’t get to have that. He doesn’t get to see that he broke me. I listened to my heart, and I only have myself to blame. I walk to the doorway and look at him. "Take your shit and get out of my house." I walk right past him toward the front door. Every single step, I feel my body get heavier and heavier. I open the door, and Quinn is right there to catch me before I fall.

"I got you," he says. My eyes just close, and I see black.

"Bring her in the house." I hear Asher’s voice, the anguish in his tone. "I’m leaving." I hear his footsteps get farther and farther away from me. The sound of the truck door closing and leaving makes my eyes flutter open as I feel myself being carried.

"I think you passed out," Quinn says, and all I can do is close my eyes. "Sorry, but I had to call Chelsea," he says, walking into my bedroom, and I shake my head.

"Couch," I say, and he turns to walk back out to the couch. He places me on the couch, and I look at him.

"He’s gone," Quinn says, looking at me and running a hand through his hair, his face white as if he saw a ghost. He walks over to the kitchen and heads straight to where I keep my grandfather’s special whiskey. He unscrews the top and takes a huge gulp, his eyes closing as it goes down his throat. I know that burn hurts. "He’s …" He shakes his head. "He’s destroyed." I’m about to say something, and he holds up his hand. "I’m not on his side," he says right away. "But you didn’t see him."


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