Chapter 33 (1/2)

Before I can stop myself, my finger is running over the call button. I know I shouldn’t, but if I can just hear her voice once, maybe I’ll sleep peacefully.

“Your call cannot be completed as dialed . . .” a robotic voice intones coldly. What? I check my screen and try again. Same message. Again and again.

She couldn’t have changed her number. She wouldn’t . . .

“Your call cannot be . . .” I hear for the tenth time.

Tessa changed her number. She changed her phone number, to make sure I can’t reach her.

When I fall asleep again, hours later, I’m met with a different dream. It begins the same, with me coming home to that apartment, but this time no one is home.

Chapter eighteen

HARDIN

You still haven’t let me finish what I started on Sunday.” Janine leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I move over on the couch a little to get away from her, but taking it as a sign that maybe we’re going to lie down together or something, she only moves closer.

“I’m good.” I turn her down for the hundredth time in the past four days. Has it really been only four days?

Fuck.

Time needs to move faster, or I don’t know if I’ll survive.

“You need to loosen up. I can help you with that.” Her fingers trail down my bare back. I haven’t showered in days, or worn a shirt. I couldn’t bring myself to put the damn thing back on after Janine wore it. It smelled like her, not like my angel.

Fucking Tessa. I’m going crazy. I can feel the hinges holding my mind in one piece being pulled farther, ready to snap completely.

This is what happens every time I sober up—she creeps into my mind. The nightmare I was tortured with last night still haunts me. I would never hurt her, not physically. I love her. Loved her. Fuck, I still love her and I always will, but there isn’t shit I can do about it.

I can’t fight every day of my life to be perfect for her. I’m not what she needs, and I never will be.

“I need a drink,” I tell Janine. She gets up from the couch languorously and goes into the kitchen. But when another unwelcomed thought of Tessa intrudes, I yell out, “Hurry up.”

She walks in holding a bottle of whiskey, but stops and gives me a look. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? If you’re going to be an asshole, you can at least make it worth my while.”