A beat. Then, “We’re not giving up on you.”
“Yes, you are,” I say coldly. “You’redone. Stay out of this. All of you. Justfuck off,Micah. Her, too. I’m here. I’m with Adriana. Tell her to get over me. You guyswilldie if you come.”
“Jude—”
I hang up and immediately block the number again. My hands are shaking when I lower the phone. He’s not stupid. He knows I’d never willingly and happily be in a relationship with anyone who isn’t her. But I have to get them away. And if I have to strike somewhere that hurts, so be it. I can’t allow them to get hurt because of me. It’s too much for any of us. My only escape is, quite literally, death.
When I turn around, Adriana is standing in the hall. She heard everything.
I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. “I don’t have the patience for your bullshit right now. So don't even start.” I push past her and into our suite, my body already moving on instinct. I drop heavily onto the couch and pull out my kit, setting it on the glass coffee table.
But she doesn’t say a word. She just hugs herself, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Her eyes are dark as she watches me prepare the needle.
I toss her the remote without looking. “Put something on,” I mutter. “Whatever you’d like.”
She catches it and flips through options, eventually landing onThe Vow. Some romantic shit. I dose, relief flooding my veins and washing away the rage. The anger dulls, panic fades, and my body relaxes into the cushions.
Adriana sits beside me a moment later, close enough that her knee brushes mine. She pulls a fuzzy red blanket over both of us, hesitating like she’s waiting for me to bitch about it.
I don’t.
After a beat, she settles. I reach out without thinking, draping an arm around her torso and pulling her in. It’s instinctual. Automatic. She stiffens for half a second, surprised. Then she melts against me, her head resting on my chest.
“Oh,” she murmurs quietly. “Okay.”
Her breathing slows almost immediately. She’s comfortable. Safe. Satisfied in a way that makes something in my chest crack. It’s not guilt exactly, but it’s notnothingeither. I trace idle patterns along her arm, my thumb moving back and forth just to give my hands something to do. The movie keeps playing.
Leave me alone.
The thought is like claws inside my mind.
Leave me alone.
I don’t know who I’m directing it at. The woman I loved. Micah. The past.Myself. It doesn’t matter. The words loop anyway, louder each time.
Leave me the fuck alone.
My fingers trace the faint blue veins on the inside of her wrist, feeling her steady pulse. Halfway through the movie, against my better judgment, I tilt my head down and kiss her. She respondsinstantly. Of course she does, I’m what she’s always wanted. I fucking hate her. But just like she’s always used me to cope with her shitty life...I’m doing the same. This is easier and quieter for me right now when all I want to do is put a fucking pistol in my mouth and pull the trigger. I know I’m sealing the coffin on the man I used to be...but I don’t stop. I don’t want to feel anymore.
Her hand comes up, her fingers curling into the fabric of my t-shirt at my chest. She pulls back, just an inch. Her green eyes are wide, searching my face in the flickering TV light. “What was that? Out there?” she murmurs.
I don’t have an answer. My thumb strokes the curve of her hip through the blanket.
She swallows. “Was that Micah?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” My voice is rough. Though I find it odd that she seems almost happy at the idea of him.
“I saw the photo from The Met.” She says, hesitantly. “I saw him with...her.”
A bitter sound escapes me, not quite a laugh. “Don’t do this.”
She shifts away, her eyes narrowing. “Jude...I need to talk to you about something.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not doing this.” I lean away from her.
She swallows loudly. “I...I really need to, though. You have to know—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, pinching the bridge of my nose.