Page 175 of Bona Fide

His words don’t sink where he wants them to because my jaw goes slack at what he just had me do. Since Wade didn’t believe me, he just had me upset Jed again because my proof wasn’t up to his standards.

And the glint in Wade’s eyes alludes that he doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re an asshole,” I grumble.

“Had to be done.” His fingers lace through my hair, brushing my cheek before gripping on to the strands tightly. “And Enzo was always a means to an end for you.”

I shake my head because I want that to be myself telling me those words, not him. The truth rings in my head, over and over again, because there are no lies to what he says.

I’m just a fucking nut job and weak as hell. I take advantage of men to gain my own needs whether it’s revenge, companionship, or just letting my past go. I’ve relied too much on other people, never being able to man up and take care of it on my own.

“You’re feeling guilty,” Wade announces, lifting my head more so he can examine my face fully. “Don’t. They’ll all be fine. And you’re already taken care of, Sox.”

I snort, not bothering to contain or minimalize it. “By whom? You?” I tsk and grab his wrist to let me go. He doesn’t, instead he drifts more into my personal space.

“Tell me,” he mutters. “That it’s me that you think about when they’re trying to drown and bury the memories of us for a little while. That it sugarcoats it for only a few hours because shit comes barrelling back into your brain. Remind yourself—” He whispers in my ear. “—that it was me you were in love with. Because after tonight, there is no more torture. It’s you and I finding a new path. It’s a sad goodbye that has to be said because I’m still getting my shit straight and you aren’t doing a thing to make things better, only pissing me off. Find a man who will worship you and not some pussy-ass like Jed Hardison. Not some selfish bitch like Grant, and—for the love of God—not Enzo, who has the last name of Janus, Shelton. I don’t think I need to elaborate on that one.”

His warm breath still blankets my ear as he comes around to face me again. In this moment, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Wade was always the more rational one. Which is sad given that he knows about everything that I’ve done like a psycho.

“Get the fuck out,” I grit out, melting away at how he’s considering me like he really wants me to find happiness. That he’s the one recalling who we were together and how we can’t be together.

He’s married.

I’m a fucking disaster with fucked-up morals.

He’s possessive.

And I want him.

My body wants to scream it so loudly that it doesn’t care if Marty comes stomping in the room afterward. It misses him, his touch, his scent, his voice, the way his lips frown and quirk.

Everything.

It fucking pines and longs for him more than anything I’ve ever experienced in my lifetime.

And I want it gone.

“Make me,” he challenges. “Because you’re shaking and you want me. You’ll fight tooth and nail, baby, to keep me at arm’s length, but I’m fucking here. And I want you too. I want to own you for the last time and then I need you to let me go.”

“Listen to me, you stupid motherfucker,” I sneer through my teeth, adrenaline pumping so fiercely through my veins that I’m starting to feel dizzy. “I don’t give a fuck who you are now or what kind of shit you can pull, you’re not going to barge into my life anymore. You’re not going to give me ultimatums. You’re not going to speak to me anymore, I don’t—I can’t do this. You fucked me up, and I absolutely—I’m done.”

He inclines his head. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “It wasn’t right. I should’ve never done what I did and sent you the proof. I wanted to destroy you and make you feel as worthless and devastated as I was. You lied...you made Chase up...you made me fall—you had another woman that shared your name. You were never mine. You could never be mine, and that ate at me. I felt like I was waiting for you my whole life and you weren’t...mine.”

His thumb grazes my cheekbone as I let my long held sob go.

I want to rest my head on his chest but refrain. There’s no point in reveling in anything because it’ll come to nothing. In another lifetime, if those even exist, I hope I find him in time before it’s too late again. I was too late on this go, and I’m having a hell of a time swallowing it.

“You have to go,” I finally mutter, pulling out of his touch. “If your plan is to murder me in some love story gone wrong, it’s working. Nothing is right anymore, my whole life is ruined, and I can’t even go home. I’m isolated and alone, happy?”

“Not when you’re screwing men that aren’t me.” His expression is dull—serious. The mask that he wears for everyone else is on, and he’ll never tell me out loud how he felt afterwards.

I don’t need to be told. I'm familiar with the feeling of being stabbed repeatedly in the chest, severing little pieces of your heart.

I vigorously wipe at my face. “You seem to be doing just fine.”

“Why do you think Indie looks so much like you?”

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