Theirs (Strength & Heat Trilogy #1) Read Online T.O. Smith

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Strength & Heat Trilogy Series by T.O. Smith
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Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
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I shrugged. “Had to walk away. There’s only so much pain a man can handle before he breaks—or in my case, destroys the person that destroyed him.” I drew in a deep breath. “So, I walked because I won’t—fucking can’t—hurt her like she’s hurt me.”

Dad sighed and stood up from his chair as I turned to face him. “Let’s go inside and have a drink,” he said. “How’s a game of cards sound?”

I blew out a harsh breath and nodded.

This was why I had come home because Dad knew me better than I knew myself, and I knew he would be the one person that could keep me from self-destructing.

* * *

✶ ✶ ✶

* * *

Meghan

* * *

I jerked awake to my stomach muscles clenching so painfully that it had me moaning in pain. My roommate woke up at the sound and flicked on her light. Her eyes widened in horror.

“Meghan, there’s blood . . . everywhere,” she whispered.

I looked down at my lower body. My eyes welled with tears. Blood had seeped through my leggings and colored my sheets red. My stomach clenched again. “No!” I wailed, hot tears sliding down my cheeks. “This isn’t happening,” I cried. “I didn’t fucking mean it!”

Why had I said that to Julian? Why had I said anything like that? I really didn’t fucking mean any of it. I’d just been so angry, so confused.

“Fuck, fuck, Meghan, what do I do?” my roommate panicked.

But I was too far gone.

I didn’t mean it, I cried.

Pain ripped through my lower abdomen. I curled into a ball, resting my hands over my belly as if it would keep my baby there, keep it safe and alive. But I knew it was hopeless.

Julian, I’m so sorry, I silently wailed.

My roommate was fumbling with my phone. “Why won’t he answer?!” she yelled at my phone.

“He hates me,” I cried. He wouldn’t answer me anymore. I knew that.

“Fuck, fuck, okay. Christ, Mace, don’t panic,” my roommate muttered to herself.

Little baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean a word. I love you so much.

* * *

✶ ✶ ✶

* * *

I blankly stared at the wall in front of me as Vincent stepped into my hospital room with a clean bag of clothes. I turned my eyes to him, my stare vacant of any emotion. “I brought you some clothes,” he told me quietly. “The doctor said you’re good to leave.”

With almost robotic-like movements, I slid off the bed and grabbed the bag from Vincent, moving towards the bathroom. After changing my clothes, I stared at my face in the mirror.

My face was pale; even my lips had lost their color. My eyes were bloodshot from crying, and I knew if I tried to speak, my voice would be hoarse from all of the screaming and crying I’d done.

But I had no one to blame for the empty feeling inside of me but myself. I’d fucked up everything, and as punishment, I’d lost my baby—a baby I had loved despite what the fuck I’d said.

I stepped out of the bathroom. Vincent was quietly talking to Axel who was standing in the doorway of my room.

“Not now, bro. Maybe another time.”

“Fucking hell, Vince, I just want to know how she is,” Axel snapped. “I get she’s going through some shit. She needs friends.”

Both of their eyes flickered to me as I grabbed my phone off the small, rolling table beside the hospital bed. “I’m ready to go,” I said, my voice hoarse and scratchy, but the tone reflected how I felt inside—dead.

“Fuck.” Axel whispered.

I just turned my eyes to him, not bothering to say anything, completely ignoring the pain he held in his eyes for me. Without a word, I moved past the two men and down the hall to the elevator.

I had been in the hospital for three days. I’d been sedated for most of it considering I kept trying to harm myself.

I was falling into a deep, dark pit, and there was no light at the bottom.

And the light at the top? It was slowly disappearing, a lid sliding over the hole, slowly locking me in.

17

I snatched the rolled-up dollar bill from the table in front of me and leaned over the line of coke, snorting it up my nose. Snatching the razor blade off the book next to me, I made a jagged cut across my wrist, not even hissing at the pain.

It had become normal by that point.

I was desperate to feel nothing and feel something all at once.

I was a fucked-up mess.

I sniffled and pushed back from the table, jerking up to a standing position. Blood was running down my arm and dripping onto my roommate’s pretty white rug, but I didn’t give a fuck. Fuck everything that was beautiful when I was so goddamn ruined.

I stumbled slightly and latched my bloody hand onto the side of my roommate’s desk, smearing blood all over the light-colored wood.


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