Chapter 14 #3
I can’t look at her for long. The sight of her standing there in her little kitchen, the dog curled up nearby, the faint sound of rain starting against the roof...it’s suddenly too much.
It’s everything I lost.
Everything I threw away.
The streetlight from the window spills over her face, softening her creamy skin. She looks at me the way she used to—like I’m still the boy she knew, not the man I’ve become.
“So…” she says softly, twisting her fingers together. “Are you...seeing anyone?”
The question hits like a fucking slap. “No,” I say with an uncomfortable laugh. “You?”
She shakes her head, eyes dropping to the space between us. “Haven’t really had much luck since you. There was one guy for a while...but he wasn’t...it just didn’t feel like...” she trails off, and I know what she’s trying to say without saying it.
He wasn’t me.
My throat tightens. I snort. “Guess I ruined you, huh?”
Her lips curve, sad and fond all at once.
“You didn’t ruin me, Jude.” She takes a few steps toward me, nervously fidgeting with her fingers.
She always did that when she had anxiety.
“I believe that we all have our one person in this life. The perfect counterpart to our soul. And that...no matter what happens, they’ll find each other again.
They’re always bound to end up together. ”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. My heart beats too loud, too close to her. I share that belief.
I take a breath. “I’ve only been with one woman,” I admit quietly.
“Since you. My publicist, Adriana. I—” I look away.
“I couldn’t do it with anyone else, even if I wanted to.
She...” I exhale, the words getting stuck in my throat.
“She’s possessive. For seven years, she’s wielded control over me and called it consent. ”
She blinks, surprise flickering through her. “Jude…”
“I’m serious,” I murmur. “I’m stuck. She and Nolan own everything. My band, my place, my friend, my—” I exhale. “Me.”
Her hand moves before I can stop it. She reaches for me, fingers brushing over mine.
It’s soft and careful. And it kills me. Her kindness cuts deeper than anything.
She’s always been a bright light that draws people in.
Her thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over the pulse that’s racing like it wants out.
My hands start to tremble, a subtle shake I can’t stop.
I curl them into fists in a sad attempt to hide it, but she sees anyway.
“Hey,” she whispers, her brow furrowing. “You okay?”
I nod, too quickly. “Yeah. Just—hot.”
But it’s not the heat in this perfect little cottage. It’s the pull. The ache crawling up my veins, the need scratching under my skin. I need a line, a hit, something to quiet it. But not here. Not with her watching me like...like she still believes I can be fucking better.
Her hand lingers, and for a second, I let myself remember how she used to feel under my hands, how her breath used to sound against my neck while I moved inside of her. I could kiss her. Fuck, I don’t want anything more. But I stay still and let the ache win. Let it swallow me.
Her palm rests on my cheek now. “You don’t have to stay trapped,” she says quietly. I look at her, and I can’t find any air.
“I already am,” I whisper.
Her thumb brushes the edge of my jaw. “You’re not,” she says softly.
“There’s always a way out. You’re Jude Graves, lead singer of Dissonance.
I’m sure you could figure it out.” Her voice trembles a little.
I close my eyes, lean into her touch for just a second before I pull back.
She’s so innocent and pure...the light in this shit world I’ve found myself in. I would only taint it.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her brow furrows. “Then tell me.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you to know about the shit I’ve had to do to survive.”
“I told you that I want to know,” she says quickly. “I’ve wondered about you since you left. Even if it’s ugly and horrible...I want to understand everything. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved.”
I clear my throat and turn away, running my hands through my hair.
Because she doesn’t know how horrible the truth really is and what I’ve done.
She doesn’t know that my veins are screaming right now, that my skin feels too tight, that every second without it feels like drowning in static.
Or that if she pushed the sleeves of my hoodie back, she’d see horrendous track marks and bruises butchering my skin from injecting heroin and meth.
“You speaking as a professional or my ex girlfriend?” I ask flatly.
She hesitates, likely warring with her answer. “Both.”
“I have to go outside for a minute,” I say quickly.
Her expression folds into concern. “Jude—”
“I just...need some air.”
I move before she can stop me, grab my jacket from the chair. My hands are shaking so bad now that I can barely get the zipper up. She notices.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine,” I lie. I step out onto the back porch, the cool ocean breeze bringing me solace for a single goddamn moment. The stars blur above the dark void where I know the ocean stretches.
My hands dig into my pockets. The small bag burns against my fingertips, the promise of peace so close I can taste it. My throat tightens again—not from the craving, but from her. The sound of her moving inside, pacing, waiting for me to come back.
She still believes in me.
God, Jude, what are you doing? You’re lying to her. But you have to.
I can’t let her see me like this, so I pull out the bag, fingers trembling. It takes me too long to untwist it. My pulse roars in my ears. When I finally lean down and snort it, relief hits like sudden sunlight. The noise fades. The ache loosens. For a second, the world stops being so agitating.
I close my eyes and sink against the stone, breathing in the illusion of health.
Behind me, I hear her open the door, her voice small and cautious. “Jude?”
I swipe a hand over my nose and straighten, forcing my voice steady. “Yeah,” I call out.
She hesitates. “You okay?”
I stare out at the ocean, glassy and hollow, like it might swallow me whole if I let it. “Yeah,” I say again. “Stop asking. I’m good.” I wince at how much of an asshole I sound. But I need to be one. If I’m sharp enough, maybe she’ll stop reaching for me.
My heart has always been Emma’s. That’s the problem. She loves like it’s a choice she makes over and over, no matter the cost to herself. She doesn’t ration it. Doesn’t protect it. And one day, it’s going to ruin her if I don’t.
When I finally walk back inside, the shaking’s gone. She’s on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The pizza sits untouched on the table.
Her eyes lift to mine, scanning my face, my posture, my hands—
I shove them into my pockets too fast.
“Feel better?” she asks, soft as ever.
I nod, embarrassed because she has to know what I did. What I couldn’t stop, not even for one stupid night.
She studies me, and I should look away. I don’t. I can’t. There’s something in her expression that pins me in place—hope, fear, love, all tangled together.
What am I doing?
The thought repeats over and over and fucking over again.
What am I doing? Why am I here? I’m going to break her heart. I’m going to destroy her for good.
Her voice is quiet when she pulls me out of my spiral. “You used.”
I grit my teeth. “No, I—” I stop. Lying to her would feel like crushing a goddamn bunny. I shake my head, stare at the floor. “Yeah.”
Her eyes shine. “Jude…”
“Don’t.” My voice breaks on the word. I scrub a hand over my face, pacing like I can outrun the weight closing in on me. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you still believe in me.” My laugh is sharp and ugly. “I’m not him anymore, Emma. I don’t care how hard you try to look, he’s not fucking there.”
Her face remains blank, her professionalism taking over.
“And if you keep loving me like he’s still in here somewhere,” I add quietly, “I’m going to take you down with me.”
Annoyance with her and me bubble up inside me, and I need to clench my fists to calm down.
She stands, her blanket slipping from her shoulders. “I do care. I’ve never stopped.”
I laugh, but it’s hollow. “You shouldn’t.” My heart beats heavily behind my ribs. I’m starting to freak out. My heart is pounding. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She takes a step closer. “I didn’t stop caring just because you left.”
“I don’t know why you didn’t,” I say flatly. “Like I said before, I left you for a reason.”
“Then tell me what could possibly—”
“I didn’t want to ruin you,” I snap, too loud.
My hands tremble again, not from withdrawal this time, but from everything I’ve been holding back.
“You were light, Emma. You are light. And me? I’m just the fucking darkness that follows it around.
That will smother and destroy it. It’s inevitable, don’t you get that? ”
Her breath stutters, and for a moment, I swear she might cry.
Good. Cry and scream and throw me out of this beautiful, peaceful life you’ve built. Please. Because I don’t know if I have the fucking strength to walk away from you again, even if I know it’s for your own good.
Instead, she crosses the space between us slowly, until she’s right in front of me. Her voice shakes. “You’re not dark, Jude. You’re just lost.”
I close my eyes. I want to pull her in, to forget everything for just one night. But if I touch her, I won’t stop.
So I step back. “You should eat before it gets cold.”
Her face softens, but the sadness stays. “Will you stay?”
I hesitate, caught in her gaze, drowning in it. Then I nod once. “Yeah. For a little while.”
She smiles faintly and turns toward the couch, and I exhale, as if it might steady my high ass.