Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I will have a life I’m in control of. One that doesn’t continuously hurt in all the ways. I’m done being a plaything for monsters to toy with.
Jude
I fucked up.
I really, really fucked up.
How the hell was I supposed to know he had some psychopath tracking him? Had I known, I could have avoided turning on his phone. Hell, I could have taken preventative steps to keep him protected in the first place.
He should have told me.
I should have asked.
Tate is kind and sweet, despite my earlier misgivings. I doubted him rather than giving him the chance he deserved at first. Now, he’s beyond upset with me. Whatever thing was transpiring between us feels irrevocably snapped.
It’s what I wanted, yet…
I fucking don’t.
I don’t want him to leave me. Not when I finally had my first taste of happiness since high school. If he leaves, that hope and sunshine I was looking forward to basking in each day will be gone. I’ll be back to being the recluse of Park Manor, hiding in the shadows and soaking in my pain.
It felt good not to hurt all the time.
Tate was good for me.
By the time I follow him outside to where Sloane waits, my mind is a fucking mess. Tate is shaken and upset, but worse yet, he won’t look at me. His walls are slamming into place around him. Is this how everyone else feels when they try to connect with me? Trapped outside with no hope of ever getting in?
Disgust at myself and the situation settles in my gut, souring it. I want to join Tate and Sloane to hear all the details, but I also need to give Tate some space.
He thinks I’m just like him—his ex. Knowing he puts me in the same category as a man who apparently beat and ridiculed him hurts. This ex of his stalks him and vandalizes his property. And I’m just like this fucker?
Dempsey lingers near Tate and Sloane for a bit before meandering over to me. His eyebrows are furled. Is he pissed at me too?
“He’s telling her he knows who it is but doesn’t want to pursue it or press charges,” Dempsey reveals. “Sloane is trying to talk him out of it.”
He doesn’t want to press charges? Is he insane?
A feral growl rumbles out of me and I crack my neck. Before I can storm over there, Dempsey grabs my arm, stopping me.
“Don’t,” he warns. “For whatever reason, Tate is fucking mad at you. Going over there and bullying your way through their conversation won’t help your case.”
I look down at my baby brother and frown. “Help my case?”
Dempsey chuckles lowly. “I’m no idiot. You two clearly have it bad for each other. Are you fucking him?”
My jaw muscles clench and I fist my hands. “None of your business.”
“You’re dumb as fuck, Jude. It’s obvious you two are together.”
You two are together.
That small phrase has my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I didn’t think I deserved any happiness, especially with Tate, but now that I’ve tasted it, I’m addicted. I don’t want to let go of it.
Tate is mine.
I’m sure your stalker twin, his ex, feels that way too…
“Why won’t he press charges?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Says it’ll get worse. That’s when Sloane gave me the stink eye to leave. Maybe she’ll be able to get through to him alone.” He stares at her for a long beat before shaking his head and then looking back over at Tate’s car. “His ex sounds like a real psychopath. We should fuck him up.”
Fucking him up would require leaving my house.
Sometimes I hate how messed up I am in the head. A normal boyfriend—is that what I am to him or at least want to be?—would be able to handle this situation for his guy. As it stands, I can’t do shit.
I could destroy his ex via online means, but that’s not as satisfying as ramming my fist through that violent prick’s face.
“I guess it’s time to finally put cameras up on your shack,” Dempsey says. “Maybe have your porch redone while you’re at it. One of these days Grandpa is going to crash through his ramp.”
Fuck.
Because of my issues, I’m endangering others. Tate, Violet, Grandpa.
“I’ll set something up,” I vow, voice fierce.
Dempsey nods, seemingly pleased with my answer. It’s pretty sad a seventeen-year-old kid has more sense about the right thing to do than I do. And that’s saying something since he’s the family fuckup.
Maybe I’m the family fuckup.
All of this could have been potentially avoided had I not invaded Tate’s personal space, serving him up on a platter for his enemy. At the time, digging into the new stranger in our lives felt warranted. I was protecting my family. But at what cost? Now Tate’s important to me and I put a target on his back.