Part 3 (2/2)

”I don't know how to deal with this,” I admitted, voice torn. ”I want to be there for him. I don't want him to go through all of this on his own. I want...him. But I can't get past what I saw,” I confessed, my words barely more than a whisper. ”In my dreams it still haunts me, Hope. The image of her naked, sweat soaked body pumping my boyfriend, grinding her p.u.s.s.y all over him, taking him into her body... Oh G.o.d, saying the words out loud makes me feel physically sick.”

”Don't,” Hope ordered, reaching out and grabbing my hand. ”Don't you dare torture yourself like this.”

”I'm still in love him, Hope...even though he's dangerous and wrong for me and broke my heart for kicks,” I choked out. ”He's the love of my life.” Tears spilled down my cheeks. ”He is everything and I love him...all the time. It won't go away. I am stuck in a never-ending cycle of loving him, losing him, missing him, hating him, mourning him, waiting for him, and caring. It won't stop and I can't claw my way out. I feel like I am dying.”

And then I admitted to my best friend my darkest thought the thought that made me hate myself more than I hated him. ”Sometimes I regret leaving him.” Clasping the back of my head with my hands, I fought to catch my breath. ”Sometimes I think that I would have been better off staying with Noah and letting him treat me the way he did letting him cheat on me. Because at least then I would still have him and not this empty f.u.c.king hole in my life.” Shaking my head in self-loathing, I looked straight into her eyes. ”How pathetic does that make me?”

”Noah f.u.c.king Messina,” Hope muttered after a long pause.

”Yeah,” I half laughed, half cried, ”Noah f.u.c.king Messina.”

TIME IN PRISON Pa.s.sED BY A LOT differently; long, f.u.c.king hard days. The only thing I took comfort in was my anger and the only thing that kept me company was my thirst for revenge.

Today marked my first month down out of a five and a half year prison sentence and the third month since I'd been remanded in custody for breaking my bail conditions.

Four of those years were my punishment for my involvement in the Ring of Fire. The remaining eighteen months were courtesy of the man in front of me who, in true a.s.shole fas.h.i.+on, had pressed charges on me for breaking and entering.

”I must say, Messina, the orange jumpsuit becomes you.”

I clenched my fists and fought the urge to lunge across the table to rip Teagan's uncle's throat out.

That b.a.s.t.a.r.d loved this.

”What are you doing here, Max?” I ground out through clenched teeth. Everything about the man p.i.s.sed me off. His crisp gray suit. His face. His f.u.c.king att.i.tude.

Since my sentencing last month, I hadn't seen a soul from the outside world. I had warned them not to come here. I needed to get used to my new life and having the Carter's visiting me was just too f.u.c.king painful. I didn't want their pity.

Having this dips.h.i.+t here only added salt to my wounds. The fact that he had added eighteen months onto my sentence with his stupid f.u.c.king claims enraged me.

”Besides reveling in the fact that you're behind bars?” Max taunted as he leaned back in his chair and smiled. ”I'm here to discuss my niece.”

”What about her?” I found myself straightening in my seat, edging forward, perking up. ”Is she okay?” I couldn't pretend I didn't care about Teagan. She had been my every thought for the last three months and hearing her name ruined me. Jesus Christ, I missed her so much. I was dying in here. I was dying without her. But my reaction gave Max exactly what he wanted.

Power over me.

”You were never good enough for her,” Max told me, setting a stack of envelopes on the table before pus.h.i.+ng them towards me. ”And you never will be.”

I knew the poorly written scrawl on each envelope. They were my pathetic attempt at contacting my girlfriend.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to stop my hands from trembling, before reaching forward and taking the half a dozen letters.

I felt like a fool for mailing them to Thirteenth Street, but I didn't have any other option. That was the only address I had for her, and I guess deep down I had hoped that Teagan would somehow get them, read my truth, and come back to me.

I was used to being let down f.u.c.king thrown to the wolves but with Teagan, it was different. She wouldn't leave me here to rot. She would come back. I had to believe she was coming back; if I didn't, I wouldn't f.u.c.k survive this.

”You can't keep her away from me,” I said vehemently, f.u.c.king desperately as I balled the envelopes in my hand. Lee had told me to have faith. Well, I was trying. Problem was, all my faith was tied up in Teagan Connolly changing her mind about me. ”She'll come around,” I hissed, as rage bubbled inside of me. ”What we have is real.”

”What you had,” Max corrected with a smirk. ”And do you see her anywhere? No, of course you don't. Because she saw your true colors and has come to her senses.” Smiling, he added, ”Forget about my niece, Noah. By the time you're out of this place she'll be married with children.”

I watched numbly as Max shoved his chair back and stood. ”Enjoy your stay,” he told me, plucking at the sleeves of his jacket. ”You're exactly where an animal like you belongs. In a cage.”

MAX SAID THAT I HAD LOST Teagan and she was gone from me forever but I refused to believe that.

There had to be a way back for us.

Back in my cell, I tossed the poorly written letters on my table with too much force and watched as they scattered onto the floor. Then I proceeded to grab the mattress off my bed and drag it over to the wall.

Setting the piece of s.h.i.+t against the cold stone of my cell, I pummeled it, executing precise blows, pretending I was rearranging that a.s.shole's face.

I hated that b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

I f.u.c.king hated him.

Max was right about one thing though I was a f.u.c.king animal.

But I didn't have to be.

I could change my ways, make things right. Get an education and find a trade. I was never going to be a doctor, but surely I could f.u.c.king do something with my life? A construction worker or a plumber something with my hands.

I just had to make it out of this place in one piece.

”Well I've heard some folk like to fluff their pillows, but I think you're taking it to an extreme, Messina.”

I swung around when the sound of my cellmate's voice infiltrated my mind.

Lucky Casarazzi stood in the doorway of our cell with his s.h.a.ggy blonde hair styled, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and his tattoo covered arms crossed over his chest. He had a deep frown set on his face as he studied me with wary ice blue eyes. In truth, the guy looked like he belonged on a stage somewhere, headlining a rock concert, rather than slumming it in a prison cell with me.

But from the limited conversations we'd had since my arrival, I knew better than to judge him based on his appearance. He had shed the blood of a man, the same as me, and at the age of twenty-three had served my entire five and a half year sentence already. The guy was the best kind of bad you could find in a place like this.

”I'm working something out here, man,” I snarled, turning my attention back to my target, continuing my rampage. ”Just give me a d.a.m.n minute.”

Holding his hands up in the air, Lucky shook his head and muttered, ”Have at it, man.” Stepping around me, he pulled himself onto the top bunk and settled down on his back. Tucking his arms behind his head, he let out a contented sigh. ”So, is she a blonde or a brunette?”

Stopping what I was doing, I turned to face him. ”What?”

”The girl you're losing your s.h.i.+t over,” he replied calmly, staring up at the ceiling. ”Is she a blonde or a brunette?”

Suddenly all the fight was gone from me. Dragging my mattress back onto the bunk, I sank down on the edge and let out a heavy sigh. ”Blonde.”

Lucky chuckled. ”Thought so.” Swinging his legs off the top bunk, he jumped down and sat down beside me. ”Brunettes make you lose your head,” he went on to say, offering me a smoke first and then a light when I accepted. ”Reds break your bed.” He inhaled a deep drag of his cigarette before exhaling a large cloud of smoke. ”But blondes? Blondes land your a.s.s in a place like this.” Lucky shook his head. ”Blondes steal your soul, Messina.”

I grunted in response, taking a deep drag. ”You get f.u.c.ked over by a blonde or something, Lucky?” Flicking my ash on the floor, I rubbed my boot on it, smudging it away.

”Something like that,” he responded, eyes darkening, as he stared straight ahead.

”SAY THAT AGAIN?” I ASKED Hope begged. ”Please, just say it again, and tell me you're not joking.”

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