Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Did you love her?” she asks, pulling my attention back to her face. She bites her lower lip as she waits for my response. As much as I don’t want to say it, I know I need to be honest.
“Yes.” My voice cracks. “I did. I’d known her since we were kids. We were all friends growing up, and one thing led to another with us.”
A small tear falls down her beautiful face. Not because of my admission to loving Alexa, but for my heartbreak. Of that, I’m sure. There’s no jealousy at this moment. Only shared misery.
“That night . . . that night was my fault, Bailey. I was fucking stressed and needed to escape. I didn’t have shit on me, so I bought a bag from a new guy at the club. It wasn’t pure. I’m not sure what it was cut with because I never ended up taking any of it . . .” I run my hands through my hair as her eyes meet mine. “But she did.”
Bailey stands, leaning across the table. Her hands reach out to touch my face. “It’s not your fault.” I lean into her touch, whispering the words I hate to speak more than anything else.
“It is.”
I turn my face into her hand, placing a kiss on her palm. She smiles sadly, before sitting back down and leaving me cold once again. Her warmth is what I need at this moment, and I curse myself for allowing us to have this conversation here in this restaurant of all places. It isn’t crowded, but it’s not private enough for such heaviness.
“Believe me when I tell you, you can’t hold this in your heart. Nothing good will come of it,” she says, pulling me back to her. “Maybe you gave her the drugs, but you didn’t make her take them. If she didn’t get it from you, she would have found a way.”
“She wouldn’t have died.”
“You have no way of knowing that,” she says. “I don’t know much, but what I know is for years I harbored the guilt over my friend Emily’s death. After the accident, it was easier to take pills for the pain than to grieve properly. Soon the physical pain faded because my wounds had healed.” She lifts her arm and turns it over to point out a very faint scar. “But the wounds inside me were still there. The pain was still there. I tried to dull it with pills, but that never helped. I needed to forgive myself.”
“It’s not that easy, though, is it?” I say, knowing she feels the same way.
“It’s not always easy, you’re right. Yes, sometimes I want to reach for a pill. But instead, I look at my scar to remind me of why the pain is there in the first place. It won’t bring Emily back, but it could cause me to join her. I don’t want to die. I want to live.”
“I do too,” I croak out the words, emotion welling in my throat.
“Then live . . . with me,” she implores. “Allow me to help you heal your scars.” She stands, coming around and taking a seat next to me. She leans forward and places her lips on mine. Kissing me. Caring for me. Making me feel I’m not to blame for a moment.
36
Drew
“What’s with the perma-smile?”
I look over to see Carter watching me closely. Fucking Carter never misses anything. “None of your business. Get back to work.” Hopefully, he doesn’t ask where I went this past weekend. There will be no way I can lie to him.
“Okay, okay.” He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll leave it be.”
The front door swings open and in strides Monica. Fucking Monica.
“Hey, cowboy. Wanna ride?” I wince at her innuendo. I glare at Carter for forgetting to get his key back despite my insisting several times.
“What are you doing here, Monica? Your shift doesn’t start until nine.”
She shimmies her hips as she strides toward me. Running her tongue across her lips, she eyes me with predatory aggression, and I back up to avoid her defilement. “I thought I’d come help you work off some tension before my shift.”
Carter grunts in the background, reminding me that he is still here and can save me from the impending assault . . . but he doesn’t come to my aid.
“I know you want it,” Monica drawls. “Stop acting like you don’t think about the things I’ve done to you.”
“You’re clueless. I don’t think about you, and I most definitely do not want anything you’re offering. Where do you even get these ideas? I haven’t given you any reasons to think that,” I grate.
Carter clears his throat loudly and rather grotesquely. This does the trick. Her head snaps in his direction, and she retreats a step. “Oh, hey, Carter. Didn’t know you were here.”