Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
My phone rings just as I’m climbing into bed, and I see Bull’s number flashing on the screen. I rarely hear from the other members of the gang, so I’m surprised to see his number coming up. I answer it quickly, worried that something bad has happened.
“Bull, is everything okay?”
“Can you get over here? He’s losing his shit.”
I shake my head, confused. “What?”
“Jagger, he’s losing his fucking shit and he won’t let anyone in. He’s fuckin’ destroying his apartment. You’re the only person I think he might talk to.”
Heart racing, I quickly stand and tell Bull I’ll be right there. I get myself dressed, pull on a coat, and then take my car to Jagger’s apartment. It would have been nearly as quick to walk, but I’m not going out into the night on foot after what happened earlier.
Parking, I climb out and rush up to the front door where Angel and Bull are standing, both of them facing me. The sounds of smashing and slamming can be heard coming from Jagger’s apartment, and the two men look like they’ve about had enough. “What happened?” I ask.
“We were havin’ a meeting, got into an argument, he lost his shit and just went in there and started drinkin’ and then he lost it. Every time one of us walks in there, he waves that fuckin’ gun at us and demands we get out.”
Gun?
He has a gun?
I turn and face the door, listening to the angry sounds coming from inside. “Is he going to shoot me if I go in there?”
Angel shakes his head. “No, he’s just angry.”
He better be right.
I push open the door slowly and step inside calling Jagger’s name. The smashing sounds stop, and I glance into the kitchen to see him standing, gun in hand, glass in the other, looking like an untamed animal. He’s wearing only a pair of jeans, his hair is a mess, and he’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him.
“Put the gun down, please,” I say carefully, stepping in and shutting the door behind me.
“Fuck off, Willow,” he snarls.
I shake my head. “No.”
“I said fuck off,” he roars, launching the glass so hard at the ground it shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces.
He’s scaring me.
“No,” I say, firmer this time.
I take a step closer and he puts a hand up. “I’ll hurt you. I will. Do not come in here.”
“No you won’t,” I say, walking closer, shoes crunching over broken glass. “Gun down, Jagger.”
His eyes are angry, and he’s looking at me in a way that absolutely breaks my heart.
“This is who I am,” he laughs, bitterly, tossing the gun onto the counter. “This is what you women are fighting over? This pathetic, fuckin’ broken man. This is what I am, Willow. Do you like what you see?”
I reach the kitchen counter and step around it, facing him. There are cups and plates smashed everywhere, and his hand is bleeding. He’s panting, chest rising and falling, a rage flowing from him I’ve never seen before.
“I can handle darkness, Jagger,” I say. “You don’t scare me. This, it doesn’t scare me.”
“Yet you couldn’t give me five fuckin’ seconds when Sharleen came back, you couldn’t give me a god damned chance.”
“Jagger ...”
“She was my fuckin’ wife,” he roars. “Before you, she was all I had. Loved her, thought she was it, thought I’d never have anything else. I thought she fuckin’ died, Willow. I had to grieve her. Had to move on. Then I found you and fuck, you consumed me. You became all I needed and then she came back. My mind was fucked. I was confused. You couldn’t give me five fuckin’ seconds to process.”
Guilt slams into my chest and tears burn under my eyelids. “I was hurting,” I whisper. “I didn’t ...”
“And I wasn’t?” he cuts me off. “I thought she was dead. Think about that for one fucking second and imagine how it felt when she showed up on my doorstep. Just take a god damned minute and think about that.”
I swallow, and a tear pushes forward and rolls down my cheek.
“I made a mistake,” I say, carefully. “I can’t take it back.”
“Why are you here?” he growls, picking up a whiskey bottle from the counter and swallowing it down.
“You know why I’m here.”
“Do I?” he laughs, bitterly. “Do I? You only told me days ago we were done, so, I ask again, why the fuck are you here, Willow?”
I step forward, he steps back.
“Don’t fuckin’ touch me. Don’t come near me. Do not fucking come here.”
My heart is breaking with every scolding word. “Jagger ...”
“Why are you here?” he roars so loudly I flinch.
“Because I love you,” I finally snap, screaming back. “I fucking love you. I can’t stand this pain any longer. I can’t stand the thought of you hurting. I can’t stand a single moment without you, Jagger. Fuck. God dammit. Fuck you.”