Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Fall bleeds into winter, and my mood is as barren and bleak as my day-to-day existence. I must enjoy torturing myself because I replay my greatest hits with Jax like a sick, obsessed loser. They provide a sunny corner in this hellscape and give me a moment of respite where I can actually breathe.
Our first kiss.
Her melodic laugh.
The flush of her pussy.
How she dumps enough sugar and milk into her coffee to obliterate the taste.
Making her come with my tongue and fingers.
The easy way she jokes around and dishes it back.
Her empathetic nature.
Her extraordinary blowjobs.
The stunning color of her eyes and the way they swallow me whole.
Since I’m already in hell, I keep my ass to the flames as the scene from Halloween night comes into focus.
The tears streaking her face. The hurt. The desire and want.
Fuck, it was an emotional night.
And seeing her compounded my misery, making it all worse by infinity. Not that I’d forgotten how she tasted, smelled, or the soft contours of her body, lips, pussy…but with how bad my life is now, I’d let all that dull.
Now, I can’t seem to stuff the genie back in the bottle.
And I can’t stop picturing Remy’s greedy, soiled hands all over her when she’s mine.
Only she’s not.
I should be mega pissed at him over this. But it’s hard not to believe I lost the right.
I fucking split, and Remy was there to pick up the pieces. He was there for Jax in her time of need. And I wasn’t.
I’m still not.
The bitter truth? My grief is compounded by losing them both. I’m jealous and angry that he’s with her. At least, I assume they carried on after I left. And as morose as I am, I don’t want to talk to him either for those very reasons.
My mind remains a dangerous place. Strategically, I’m left with one option: detach from everyone and everything. My family. My friends. The girl I love.