Page 59 of Simply You & Me

Without thinking, I peel my sweatpants down my legs and find the hidden razor in the cabinets behind me. I just need to feel something else. Anything besides the betrayal and hurt they caused. I need to feel something other than the pain caused by the men I’ve been falling in love with.

Except that’s not completely true, is it? My hand pauses its reach to my thigh, the blade reflecting the bathroom lights into my eye. Johnny is the one who inflicted my bruising and the trauma I endured. Johnny's the reason I feared for the life growing inside of me and Rory's safety.

The guys would never lay a hand on me. But they kept secrets. Secrets that are life and death.

Tate told me they loved me, and even though I wanted to brush it away, I still heard him. I listened. I heard his apology and his words of affection. Hearing those things makes everything so much more confusing. Like if they truly loved me, why would they keep something so monumental from me and put me and Aurora at risk?

Nausea threatens to scald my throat, reminding me of Bean. My vision wavers in and out as I focus on my bare thighs. White and pink lines cross and zigzag through each other. Few are redder than the others, but they’re healed. No vulnerable scabs in sight.

The sight makes me shiver uncomfortably. I hate not seeing a fresh cut healing itself and it makes me itch to make a new one so that I can control something.

Nausea makes my jaw tingle again, causing me to drop the blade and inch toward the toilet. Nothing comes up, but the icky feeling stays, keeping me far away from the razor I left a few feet away.

"Okay," I whisper into the silent bathroom, tears streaming down my face as I settle my shaking hand on my bloated tummy. "I hear you, Bean. I hear you."

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Julian

Ifeel like I need to make a list of all the fuckery going on in my life right now. My mind is a mess and I have no idea what to focus on or what should have my full attention. Hunched over the island in our kitchen, I twirl a pen around on the counter. I’ll write Addie a letter, too.

Finding two sheets of paper, I start with my list.

Fuckery:

1. I'm going to be a dad.

2. I'm in love with Addie.

3. Addie won't speak to me.

4. I haven't talked to her since picking up Rory last week.

5. Johnathan's after us and is the same asshole Addie told us about.

6. Addie's in danger.

7. Rory doesn't trust me anymore.

8.

My pen hovers over the eighth thing I want to write down. What needs to be added makes my chest hurt so badly. It's not a heavy weight, it's emptiness.

8. I'm lonely...

"Hey," Wyatt greets, striding into the kitchen. His usual tight T-shirt is white today with black ripped jeans. His black hair hangs over his forehead and eyes, dripping like he just got out of the shower.

The loneliness plaguing me has my shoulders sagging when he bypasses me and heads for the fridge. It's not like things have drastically changed between the four of us. We go through busy fazes where we don't see each other as much, but I feel like I'm fizzling away without them. Without Addie and Rory. My baby. My throat tightens.

Clenching my jaw, I force the wateriness of my eyes away as I stare at the eighth line on my list. Yeah, I'm really damn lonely.

"What's that?"

I jolt, not having noticed Wyatt sneaking up beside me. Settling myself in the next second, I find it's too late to shield what I wrote. Instead of crumpling the sad list into a ball, I avoid looking at Wyatt and move to the pantry to find something to snack on. Or I'm hiding. Either is a possibility.

"Jules..." Wyatt's voice sounds pained. I flinch, hating that I've put another thing on his shoulders that he's going to stress out about. I don't want pity attention; I just want them.

Coming out with a bag of SunChips, I peek at Wyatt, finding him where I left him. His face is pinched with concern. I wrack my brain for a joke to lighten the mood, but nothing comes to mind. I offer him a smile as I make my way to the living room, snatching the pen and paper as I go.

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