Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 35224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
He could smell the fact that she wasn’t. It was like fucking paint drying.
“It wasn’t like I was trying to deceive you.”
So much time and energy wasted.
“Six months.”
He didn’t need to ask what she meant, because he knew. She’d been in love with the other man for six months.
He nodded slowly, not sure what to say. “Okay.”
“You’re not upset?” She seemed genuinely surprised by this, even… upset that he wasn’t freaking the fuck out.
“No, I’m not upset.” And he really wasn’t. He watched the way her eyes narrowed at that. “I wish you would have told me before cheating on me, but it is what it is.”
Shit, who was he right now? Shouldn’t he be pissed? Shouldn’t he feel his bear acting out at the fact that the woman he’d been with was fucking another guy?
He should have, but he felt ice in his heart.
“I think it’s time you left, Mina. I think it’s time we both moved on to what will really make us happy.”
Her eyes went wide. “So it’s just like that?”
He shrugged. “I guess so.”
He needed to get out of the house, to run free and tear some shit up, not because of this or her, but because he hated himself.
I should have waited.
I should have waited until a woman sparked my cold, dead heart to life, lit my blood on fire, and made me feel like there was something worth living for.
He wanted to hurt something or someone as much as he was hurting, as much as he hated himself, but instead of letting his bear free at that moment to cause some serious destruction, he did something he’d never done in his twenty-five years of living.
He cried for what he might never have.
Honest-to-God love.
1
Present day
Ford slammed back another shot of bourbon and stared at the counter, his vision starting to blur. He was getting drunk—again—and welcomed it.
He slammed his hand on the counter and gestured for another shot. He was drunker than fuck, but that was how he liked it. Here he was, getting shit-faced once again over his fucking hang-ups. He groaned as he thought about his ex. She called him, almost gloating about her engagement and upcoming wedding. He wasn’t even pissed about it. That’s not what was fucking things up for him.
Her contacting him rehashed all the shit he felt about himself.
He hadn’t spoken to her in ten long years, so why the hell she thought she had the right—or that he’d even care—to call him up and tell him she was getting married was beyond him. But then again, look at what that call had done?
He knew his brothers thought he was upset because she was getting married. He’d never told them about the breakup or what happened. He’d never told them how he hated himself for not waiting for a mate.
He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.
He hated to know what a shrink would say about how he was dealing with his inner issues and personal turmoil, that holding onto something for so long was because he probably had some deeper-rooted problems, but fuck it all.
He was a masochist and a sadist all rolled into one, a damn magician and expert at making people see something that wasn’t there. He didn’t let his brothers see this side of him, didn’t allow the ugliness that consumed him to seep out to the only two people he loved. He could fool the best of them, put on a fake-as-hell smile, laugh, and act like he enjoyed the life he was living. But in the end, when he was alone staring at the ceiling, it all came back like a powerful punch to his chest.
He finished off another drink, paid his tab, and called a cab. The best thing for him to do was get the fuck home.
It was a ten-minute cab ride to his place, and thankfully he didn’t pass out on the way there. After paying the man and forcing his feet to move to his front door, he all but fell inside. Sleep sounded perfect, but the stench of the bar clung to him, and he made his way into the bathroom for a shower.
After turning on the water and making sure it was hot enough to melt skin, Ford got undressed and stared at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and he ran his hand over the dark stubble that lined his jaw and cheeks. He was a fucking mess, with his blood shot eyes, dark circles, and pinched-ass expression.
Turning away from his reflection, he pulled the shower curtain aside and stepped into the steam-filled enclosure. The instant the hot droplets splashed against his skin, he clenched his teeth. Yeah, it was scalding and hurt like a motherfucker, but that was what he needed right now.