Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Of course, I give a shit about you.”
“Really? Because my wife could’ve died. She nearly did! And she needed you!”
He jabs at my chest so hard, I wince.
“She could’ve been fucking calling out for you or screaming, and I swear to God, Jake, holy fuck, I swear if I find out she was crying for you to help her and you were too busy sucking off your precious boyfriend, I’ll lose my mind.”
Felix shrinks away from me, leaving my side, no doubt feeling like he’s somehow responsible for what happened to Riley, and that’s not right. None of this is.
“Look. I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry about the baby and about Riley, CJ, but you need to watch what you’re saying to me. You just called me a junkie and said I’m basically going to relapse any day now. What the fuck?”
“Oh, good. I’m really glad you’re listening, Jake. That makes all of this so much easier since I won’t have to repeat myself.”
“What are you talking about?”
He fists the front of my hoodie and yanks me up so I’m right in his face.
“CJ, bro—” Luke says, wrapping his hand around my brother’s arm.
CJ must not feel it. He doesn’t budge.
“I want you gone,” he snarls. “Pack up your shit and get the fuck out of my house, brother, and I want it happening tonight.”
“What?” My eyes jump between his. “Are you serious?”
“Do I look serious?”
“Where am I supposed to go?” I ask.
“Not my problem.” He dips closer. “Do you hear that, Jake? You are no longer my problem. Do you get what I’m saying to you?”
I wrench out of his grasp.
Fuck this.
“Yeah. I get it.” I pant a few breaths, trying to calm myself down, but it feels like an impossible task. “This is fucked up. I didn’t make Riley lose her baby, CJ. Why are you blaming me for this shit? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why don’t you go hold Riley’s hand and cool the fuck off. She probably needs you right—”
Pain explodes across my jaw when CJ lands the hardest punch I’ve ever taken.
I grunt as I’m knocked back into the chairs Felix and I vacated.
“Jesus, man! What the fuck!” I roar, sprawled out. I rub at my face.
Felix reaches out to help me up, but CJ’s voice stops me from taking it.
“Stay sober or don’t. I don’t give a fuck what happens to you anymore, Jake.”
I blink up at my brother and whisper, “What?”
Did he really just say that?
“When I get home with Riley after she recovers, you won’t be there,” he continues. “Don’t come around. Don’t call me. And don’t fucking reach out to her either. I find out you do, and you’ll know what it’s like to really take a punch from me.”
I glare at him as the pain in my jaw threatens tears.
Or maybe it’s what I’m hearing that has me on the verge of crying.
“You don’t know us anymore. Got it?” CJ growls.
“Yeah. I got it.”
I ignore Felix’s hand that is still extended and stand on my own.
“Brother.” I spit blood at CJ’s feet.
Then I turn around and stalk out.
WILL A RACECAR BED HELP THIS SITUATION?
FELIX
I STAND THERE in the waiting room after Jake leaves, shocked and honestly, pissed the fuck off. And I wait for his brother to go after him, or to at least tell me he didn’t mean any of that before I go after him.
CJ can’t really mean what he just said.
He’s more than a decent guy, from what I’ve gathered from Jake and witnessed on my own, the few times I’ve been around him. He’s supportive and caring and not a total fucking dick. CJ just simply spoke out of anger. It happens.
Who hasn’t said something they’ve wanted to immediately take back?
So, I stand there and give him the chance to do it. To fix what he just broke.
But CJ doesn’t even look at me. No one does.
And yeah, I know speaking up and saying anything right now could very easily earn me a broken face, but I have to do this. He’s got to know.
“I’m really sorry about what happened, but that was fucked up and you know it.”
And that gets his attention.
CJ turns his head and glares at me. His wide chest heaves with his breaths.
I think he’s finally about to say something. Or possibly kill me right here. It honestly looks like it could go either way.
Until slightly less muscular cop steps between us.
I’d use his name, but I really don’t give a shit what it is right now.
“You should go,” he says to me, and it sounds like an order.
Douchebag.
Do cops ever take a day off?
I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
And then, because I really (need to) believe it and so does everyone else, I announce, “He’s going to stay sober,” in the surest voice I have. I stand there until I meet the eyes of the entire group.