Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
I peer up at his face, taking him in. His eyes look unfocused, and his lips form a straight line.
The playful version I’ve grown to care about is long gone, replaced by a Dane Sinclair I don’t even recognize.
“I wanted to be alone.”
His voice is so foreign, it takes a moment to process his words. When I finally do, I have to force myself to stay upright. My vision starts to blur. He’s reached into my chest and ripped my heart out. Even standing feels like fighting nature.
Breathe, Josie.
“Are—Are you okay?”
His chest rises and falls with jerky movements. Maybe it’s pathetic, but I narrow in on it, desperately seeking something to grasp. A weakness that’ll tell me he’s joking. Someone forced him into this.
“I need air,” he blurts out, and hope blossoms in my chest.
“We’re outside.” I raise a brow. “If this is a joke, I’m not laughing.”
“Shit.” Dane winces like he didn’t mean for me to hear his curse. He thrusts his hand through his hair with enough force to make the team stylist weep. “This isn’t a joke. I’m serious. This isn’t working, hel—Josephine. This isn’t working, Josephine.”
“Dane—”
“Just leave.” He motions between us. “This isn’t going to happen.”
I open my mouth to argue. Something’s clearly wrong. It’s obvious he’s keeping something from me, and knowing him, it’s the same self-sacrificial bullshit that always ruins his life.
I refuse to let him make a choice we both know he doesn’t want to make.
But then his face hardens. He nods to himself like he just gave himself the pep talk of a lifetime. And then he says something that manages to crush my hope into smithereens.
“Leave, Josie. You’re not worth the fight.”
I barely register his wince.
I barely register the tiny step he takes to me or the way his hands jerk forward to reach me.
The only thing I feel is sheer rage.
“You know what? Fuck you, Dane. This time, it is goodbye. Don’t follow me next time you want to get your dick wet.”
57
JOSIE
That motherfucker.
You’re not worth the fight.
His words ping-pong between my ears, back and forth, over and over again until I crank up the car radio to full volume.
I should have known. I should have left first.
He didn’t pick me.
He picked my father.
I can’t help but laugh at how cruel life is, giving me love only to take it away. My father, Mom, Dane. No one ever fights for me. I laugh and laugh and laugh until suddenly, I’m crying.
Fat tears race down my cheeks. It’s ugly and wet, and anyone can see me losing my shit through the car window. I can’t bring myself to care.
How the hell will I work with him? How can I see him and not feel the loss of us?
My heart is hollow.
This is what happens when you fall in love with someone who’s off-limits.
Fall in love?
Shit.
Did I fall in love with him?
I did.
My fingers white-knuckle the steering wheel as I remember the moment it happened. That morning, I finally opened up to him and told him about my parents. He held me in his arms, and like an idiot, I fell.
Oh, who am I kidding? It happened the first time I saw him smile. The very first laugh.
I’ve always been Dane Sinclair’s, yet he’s never been mine.
My cries turn violent. All the emotions inside me pour out.
Tears rush past my lips, and my teeth rattle against each other as I shake.
It’s like a dam has burst, and every single emotion I’ve pushed back is pouring out of me.
My sobs are the only sound in the car.
I reach my hand up and swipe the tears across my face. The moisture collects on my fingertips like blood pouring from a wound.
The drive to my father’s house feels long and torturous. It’s only about a fifteen-minute drive, but with hazy vision from swollen lids, it takes much longer, or at least it feels that way.
Finally, I pull up to his house and drive around back to my spot outside the garage.
I get out of the car and slowly walk toward the backyard. The night sky blankets me from above, and the only light comes from the stars that sparkle.
Reaching into my pocket, I’m about to pull out my phone when the side lights of the house come on.
“Josie? Is that you?”
Shit. It’s my father.
For a second, I don’t know what to say. If I talk, he’ll hear the sadness in my voice. If I don’t speak, he’ll most likely come over to check on me. If he sees me, cheeks red, eyes swollen, there will be no hiding that I’ve been crying.
Unfortunately, the decision is taken from me as my father strides across the back patio and stops right in front of me.
“Josie.” He steps closer, his hand lifting to touch my shoulder, but he stops right before he makes contact. “Are you—Are you okay?”