Three days. Three days and an ungodly amount of chocolate and horror books. As soon as I saw that stupid four-letter word on any page, I slammed the book closed, and grabbed a new one.
No one ever tells you about the little things that accompany heartbreak. Just the sound of a motorcycle sends my heart jolting. But I’d know the sound of Jared’s bike anywhere, so I know it’s never him. This kind of hurt has me looking at so many things differently. The color green, or the way I stare at the sugar jar on the counter, remembering his love for a hot cup of sugar with a hint of coffee. Shit, just making a freaking sandwich has me wanting to scream. I had no idea of the ways having your heart broken could affect your day-to-day life.
But I’ve come to find that once it starts to fester, that hurt can turn just as toxic as the love you so ignorantly fell into. Filling your veins with anguish and your heart with poison until you can barely remember what happiness once felt like. Or even if you were ever happy at all. For maybe it was all just a dream. An imagining of something that will always remain elusively out of reach.
Especially for a cold-hearted bitch.
I don’t blame him for his cruelly spoken words. I really don’t. No, I blame someone who’s much harder to take my anger out on. Myself.
Out of all the harmful things I could have ever done to myself, falling in love has got to be the worst. But some lessons need to be learned the hard way. Experienced, as Badger would say.
So I stomp on that ever-present urge to find my cure and beg for forgiveness, and instead, I walk into my closet in search of a dress. It’s time to distract the hurt and become the girl I need to be for the night.
Blurring city buildings and lights stream past the passenger window as I shift, adjusting the material of my long black gown over my legs. It’s more casual than most items I’d wear to such events, but it’s still going to look better than half the other dresses at tonight’s Bramston Inc. annual Thanksgiving charity gala, so I can’t bring myself to give a damn. The pleats of the skirt shimmer when the light catches them through the window of the car, the deep V-neck cut over my chest a bit revealing yet still classy. It’s a shame it’ll probably never get worn again after tonight. I’ll only associate it with sour memories, and I don’t need any more of those.
Dexter reaches over the console, grabbing my hand. I recoil, snatching it back, and he laughs darkly.
The only thing worse than attending this event with Dexter—especially after I thought these days were long over—is having him touch me.
“Play nice and stop thinking so highly of yourself, Vera.”
My eye twitches at the mere sound of his voice. “What do you mean by that?”
He flicks the turn signal on, turning down a back street that leads to the Hedgington.
“Do you honestly think I want to wind up trapped with someone like you?” He glances at me briefly. “Some bitch who doesn’t give a shit about anyone other than herself?” He lets out a stunned laugh. “And let’s not forget how fast the rumor mill is running with talk of you flying around Rayleigh on the back of some scumbag’s motorcycle.” Shock, thick and slimy, oozes into my bloodstream. “Open your eyes, Vera. I don’t want to fucking marry you. I don’t want to buy a house for you. I don’t particularly want anything to do with you unless it involves getting between those nice legs of yours.” He scoffs. “But you’re even selfish with that, aren’t you? You gave it to me so rarely that it’s not really any kind of bonus at all.”
Anger ignites, causing my teeth to clench together. “Cut the crap, Dexter. Why the fuck are you doing this then?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Christ.” He runs a hand over his combed brown hair. “And to think that your father says you’re smart.” He turns into the Hedgington, joining the line for the valet. Bile rises up my throat at the thought of potentially seeing Jared. But when we pull up, he’s nowhere to be seen, and relief washes over me like a tidal wave.
Dexter turns to me before opening the door. “I want Bramston Inc., and your father is willing to give it to me, but being a man of strict tradition, he wants to keep it in the family.” He opens his jacket, plucking his phone from his pocket. “So behave, or my finger might slip and dial someone you really don’t want it to.” He gets out, and I try to pick my jaw up off the floor of his car. Shit. I’m such a god damned idiot. Inhaling one deep breath after another, I try to calm myself down.
He opens my door, and I take his offered hand, wiping my features blank before stepping out of the car. Pride and self-loathing are bitter pills to swallow, but I’ll force them down and try to keep my head held high while doing so.
Assholes. The two of them are such fucking evil assholes. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, but I fight the urge to free them with every sliver of strength I have left.
He links my arm through his, smiling at a passing couple and walking us through the lobby. We hand over our coats then head to the ballroom, where we make small talk with a few people before sitting down to wait for dinner and the silent auction to begin. I see Isla over by the far wall talking with her father’s business associate. She waves, giving me a weak smile. Her and Cleo both know all of what’s happened. They weren’t surprised, and even went so far as to tell me not to risk it and to just leave the Jared thing alone for a while. Thing. As if he’s a toy I can put on the shelf for a while and ignore.
“For God’s sake, smile,” Dexter hisses into my ear after the auction comes to an end. “You look like you’ve swallowed a sour grape.”
I feel like I’m going to hurl all over his lap, but I keep quiet and stretch my lips into a small smile. “Better,” he murmurs. “You really are much more beautiful when your mouth is shut.”
My eyes spring wide at his audacity. If he thinks just because he’s finally told me about his ulterior motives that he can speak to me like trash, he’s got another thing coming. I slap his arm as though he said something inappropriate, and I slap it hard. Turning my head, my lips a centimeter from his, I whisper, “You should really shut yours before I tell you and my father to go to hell and walk out of here.”
He grins, his hand lifting to my neck. He wraps it around the side, his thumb smoothing over my jaw. “You and I both know you’re not going anywhere.” He presses his lips to mine quickly then sits back in his chair.
The next hour drags; I stay with Dexter the whole time, and Isla tries to join me when she can. When it looks like everyone is finally feeling the effects of the open bar, I decide I’ve had enough and excuse myself from the conversation. Dexter follows, catching my arm. “Where do you think you’re going? We’ve barely been here two hours.”
I pull my arm free. “You wanted me here. I came. Now I’m going.”
He tries to stop me by grabbing my arm again, but I move away. “Don’t. Please, Dexter, just… I’ve had enough for one night.”
He blinks, obviously not expecting my softer tone of voice. He nods. “Fine. I’ll call you soon. Make sure you answer.”
I turn for the entrance, getting my coat and shoving it on while I move outside. My arm is grabbed again when I do. I spin around, about to scream at Dexter, appearances be damned, only to find it’s not him at all.
Jared tugs me away from the front entrance of the hotel and around the corner near the gardens. My heart’s fury is almost palpable. Why is he here? Tonight, of all nights.
“Jared, let go.” I twist my arm from his grip, but he just grabs my upper arms, walking me back into an alcove and cleaving me open with the anger emanating from him.
“Don’t waste any time, do you?” he snarls.
I avert my gaze to his scuffed, black boots, unsure if I’ll be able to look at him without him seeing everything in my eyes. “Whatever,” I say with as much aloofness as possible. “Can you move? I need to go.”
He lets go, only to move his forearms to either side of my head, trapping me against the cold wall. “Why, Frost? Is he waiting for you? I thought you would’ve been able to spare a bit of time for little old me, you know, considering I’m such a good guy and all.”
His cold voice assaults every vital part of me. I shove at his chest, immediately dropping my arms back to my sides when the temptation to wrap them around him becomes too strong.
“Yes, he’s waiting,” I finally lie. “So go away.”
He tsks, his lips hovering over my cheek. “But does he touch you like I do? Does he know how to make your legs shake like I fucking do?” He shoves his knee between my legs, and I suppress a groan, fighting the impulse to rock against his thigh.
“Jared, this is ridiculous. Stop it.”
“No,” he growls. “Fucking answer me.”
“Hey, Vera. The car is here.” I hear Isla call out from somewhere near the front entrance of the hotel.
His voice drops to a scathing whisper, his lips brushing over my skin when he says, “Do you think of me when he fucks you like the spoiled bitch you are?”
Pulverized isn’t a strong enough word to describe the beating my heart just took. The pain has me desperate to escape, and I shove him hard. “Get off.”
He steps back, and I can’t help myself as my eyes shoot to his face. His features are only more devastating with the torment contorting them. “You know what? I think that’s exactly what I need.” His top lip curls. “Enjoy your perfect life, Vera.”
He turns and walks away, thankfully before he can see my face fall. I suck in breath after breath, trying to cool the burn invading my heart and throat.
“Vera?” Isla steps around the corner. “Shit.” She moves over to me, wrapping her arm around my waist. “Breathe, just breathe. Look at me.” I do, and she breathes slowly, encouraging me to do the same. I do, slowly getting my heart rate back under control.
“Fuck, it hurts.” I swipe under my eyes, removing the wetness.
She wipes under them gently. “I can see that.” She curses again. “I had no idea you were in so deep. Why don’t you just tell him? You could explain everything. Warn him.”
My head shakes, and her hands drop. “Because then he’d almost have to choose between me and his shop. It was his foster dad’s, and it’s not just his; it’s his brother’s, too. Plus, he has some employees … It’s too complicated.”
She rubs my arms soothingly. “But at least he’d know.”
I sniff. “Is he gone?”
She nods. “Yeah, walked straight past me without even looking at me before I came over. I saw you leave and followed you then heard you arguing and didn’t know if I should interrupt.” She scoffs. “Until he started being a dick. Is he always like that?”
I straighten from the wall, and we walk back to wait for her car. “No, you really think I’d fall for a guy who treats me like that?” I sniff again, climbing inside the Town Car and putting my seat belt on. Isla does the same. “I hurt him. But to be honest, I didn’t realize he cared so much.”
Isla’s quiet for the rest of the drive to my apartment. When we’re almost there, she says, “I think you should tell him. I think that going through with what your father and Dexter want might ruin something really good for you.”
I close my eyes; my head tilted back to the roof of the car. “It’s already ruined.”
She pats my hand, and I lift my head when the car stops. “Call me if you need me, but just think about it, okay?”
I give her a weak smile and shut the door. She doesn’t realize that’s all I seem to do.
Think about him.
“I’ve done what you told me to, but I’m drawing the line at Dexter, no matter what you say or do.” I hit the prompts, getting notification of my father’s voicemail receiving my message. He’s got to know he can only push me so far; he’s asking too much, and tonight has felt like one bad nightmare after another. I hope Dexter chokes on his failed plans. If he thinks my father gives a shit about him, he’s dumber than I thought. And I know my father cares more about me embarrassing him than he does about me making it work with Dexter.
Sighing, I stare at the screen on my phone, watching as the minutes go by until it hits three o’clock in the morning.
Throwing the covers off, I sit up, not knowing what I’ll even say but knowing I need to do something. I don’t even change; I just throw my coat on over my winter pajamas, slip my feet into my Ugg boots, and grab my keys before taking the elevator down to the garage. I jump in my car, giving it a second to warm up before I back out and make the drive across the city. Excitement trumps that nagging pain the closer I get to his house. Isla’s right; besides, it should be his decision, and if he decides I’m not worth it … well, it might destroy me even more, but at least he’ll know. He’ll know that I didn’t want this, that I wanted him.
A few strange cars are parked in his driveway, so I park on the street, getting out and wondering what’s going on.
I reach the door and knock, spying Toulouse through the curtains in the living room when he nudges them aside with his head. When no one answers, I knock again. Right, he’s probably asleep, being the early hours of the morning and all. I turn to go, feeling like an idiot, when the door finally opens. Turning back around, I find a brunette standing there, half-dressed and yawning. “Uh, hi. Who are you?” she mumbles.
I move without even thinking, sliding by her and marching down the hall. After almost tripping over some guy who’s half asleep on the floor, I throw open the door to Jared’s room. But he’s not in there. Turning around, I walk back down the hall, about to ask the woman where he is, when my peripheral vision spies a pair of feet hanging over the armrest of his couch as I pass the living room. Backing up, I walk over to the couch, my heart plummeting into my stomach when I find Jared, arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. He’s not alone, though. Stella is draped over his chest, sound asleep.
He looks over, frowning at me. I glance around the living room, finding beer bottles, weed, and shot glasses on his miserable excuse for a coffee table and on the floor. “The fuck are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low and croaky.
My gaze falls back on him and Stella. She stirs and he moves to shift her off him. “Your fly is still undone,” I inform him coldly before turning around and making my way out the front door.
He follows, snatching my hand before I can open the door to my car. “What, you had a change of heart all of a sudden?”
I yank my hand out of his. “I came to tell you that I made a mistake, but now I don’t think I did. So why don’t you go back inside. I’m sure you’re tired after finally getting off after so damn long.”
He backs me into my car. “Oh, don’t worry Frost, I didn’t fuck her. Not yet. But she sucked my cock, and she sucked it real fucking good.” The smell of beer leaves his mouth, filling my nose. “Wanna know what really got me off, though?” I shake my head, trying not to register anything he’s saying. His bloodshot eyes narrow to slits. “You. I thought about how fucking awesome it would be to break your heart the same way you’ve broken mine. Because even though you try to hide it, we both know you’ve got one. And fuck, did it feel good.” He groans. “The thought of destroying it gets me so hard that it actually eases some of this pain in my damn chest.”
Tears gather in my eyes, but he keeps going, “How’s it feel, Frost? To know that someone else touched something you thought belonged to you?”
“Why don’t you tell me,” I deadpan.
His broken laugh cuts me open, but he stops abruptly. “Fine, I’ll humor you.” His voice lowers to a menacing whisper, and I never knew such a sound could exist. That a whisper could penetrate your eardrums and tunnel straight to your heart like an electrical current trying to zap what little life remains from inside you. “It feels like someone’s raking their filthy fucking nails over your heart before they squeeze it in a vise so tight that you can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you can do is feel, and it’s excruciating. Every breath you dare to take is a reminder you’re still alive, still breathing, but for how long?”
When I don’t say anything, his voice rises, and I startle. “How long, Vera? It’s been only days, and it just gets worse. So tell me, how fucking long is it supposed to feel like this?”
His breathing becomes labored. “Answer me, damn it!”
“I don’t know, but I want it to stop!” I breathe in a harsh lungful of cold air.
He staggers back a step, the anger slowly slipping off his face. Pointing a finger at me, he sneers, “You did this. Don’t forget that. So take yourself and whatever bullshit you came here to say home.” He turns and walks back to the house, leaving me here with my heart exposed, broken, and so worn out that I’m surprised it’s still beating.
My shoulders heave, my breath coming in sharp, white plumes in front of my face. He slams his front door, and I climb back into my car, driving home and slamming the door closed on hope.