Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
I wipe at my eyes, dashing away the tears so I can see clearly—maybe for the first time in my life. So I can see the stranger in front of me, this stonehearted DEA agent who used me like a tissue. This man I thought I knew, when all I ever knew was his name—and even that might not be the truth.
“I love you.” Somehow, I can say it, even though it tastes like acid. “Loved. I loved who I thought you were. I loved the time we spent together. I loved the way you kissed me. The way you listened, leaned on me, and the way I thought you needed me as much as I needed you. I loved that you didn’t try to hold me back from opening up my world, from seeing new things, from standing on my own, but you were always there to hold me up whenever I started to tumble and fall.” My throat closes.
My lips tremble.
I watch his chest heave like there’s an explosion inside him trying to get out.
Good. He should hurt a little.
Everything inside me burns, but at least my lungs aren’t failing, finding the breath to speak these words that break so much inside me.
“I fell in love with a lie. The way you’d watch me when I tried new things and how you’d smile like you were seeing it for the first time with me… It made me feel special, Micah. It made every first for me so much more. And now…”
Oh, no.
My voice breaks again. Another sob, but I won’t let it out.
I stuff it back inside, taking a deep breath and stiffening my spine.
Micah’s not looking at me. His head is turned over his shoulder, but his eyes are downcast, his face blank.
“Now I know it was an act,” I force out. “While I was falling in love with you, you were playing me for everything I was worth.” I know why they call it bitterness now. Because the tears in my mouth and the pain on my tongue all taste revolting. “I hope you had fun breaking the little small-town virgin girl. You’ll never get another chance to do it again.”
If I’m expecting an answer, it never comes.
Just Rolf’s whine as he pads toward me with his tongue out and sad eyes. Like he’s the one begging me to reconsider.
Micah just waits.
And I can’t anymore.
I can’t wait any longer for him to take it back, to make it better, when I know he won’t and I don’t know how he can.
So I turn away, staring at the sun streaming through the tall windows of this cosmopolitan house that doesn’t belong in Redhaven any more than he does.
I know what time it is—I run.
With all the strength I’ve built in my broken lungs and broken body, I run away from Micah Ainsley.
And I refuse to ever look back.
18
DARK SILENCE (MICAH)
The Rum Martinez.
It’s one of the most complex mixed drinks in the world. First created by Japanese bartender Takumi Watanabe, it’s almost never served in the United States.
Back when I was bartending in NYC, it was my specialty.
A complicated process involving everything from maraschino liqueur and vermouth to smoke infusers and toasted wood chips, served on decorative dried tobacco leaves. It takes longer to make the drink than it does to consume it, though someone with a refined palate might linger over it longer.
For some, it’s a delicacy.
For me?
It’s a comfort ritual.
I started slinging drinks to pay my tuition and survive, but it gave me structure.
It gave me a ritual. If I just did everything in the right order with the right ingredients, I could make something magnificent.
I never had anything like that before in my life. It transformed alcohol from this poison that summoned my father’s demons into a magical elixir I could use to comfort others.
I wish life was always that simple.
With the right recipe, maybe I could have made Talia happy.
Except I know that’s not true.
Even as I calm my frantic mind and savaged heart with the focused process, infusing the heady tobacco smoke into the drink, standing over the wet bar in my dark house, her last words keep replaying in my mind.
She loves me.
No.
Loved.
I didn’t miss that switch to past fucking tense.
And even though I tried to hide my reaction, tried like hell not to make it harder on her to walk out, it skinned me alive.
One little change in that word.
Something inside me broke.
Hell, probably something that needed to be broken.
Something that deserves it because I was a selfish asshole. I fell into this mess with her even while I knew I couldn’t give her anything permanent.
I’ve lived a lie for so long that I dragged her into my own fantasy, and then I tore her to tatters.
That sweet, innocent woman, with her gorgeous blue eyes spilling tears and a bitterness I’ve never seen, erasing the fresh-faced way she’d look at everything with the wonder of someone seeing it for the first time.