This is a terribleidea; quite possibly the worst one I’ve had in my entire life, but after wracking my brain for any other options… it’s all I’ve got left. And honestly, I’m sick to death of tiptoeing around, worrying if any, and every, damn thing, will, or will not, piss her off. Presley’s done calling all the shots. It stops now. The guilt, sadness, and shadows chasing my woman, end, die, today — regardless of what she’s fooled herself into believing is best, or what it ends up costing me. I very well may lose her for good over this, but my gut’s telling me I’m doing the right thing, for her, so damn my consequences.
And yes, I swore to myself countless times that the route I’m about to take was out of the question, but it’s time. Long past, actually.
I also made a promise to Presley that I’d never give up on her again; and I meant it. I’m not doing this because I broke that vow, gave up on her. The exact opposite, in fact. I’m risking it all because I refuse to give up on her… even if that means I lose “us.”
Yep, my mind’s made up, and I act before it can change.
“Jesus, don’t break the damn thing; come the fuck on in with your noisy ass. And ya best hope, whoever you are, that you’re on fire, dying, or here to hand me a shitload of money!”
None of the above, and, maybe I did knock, okay, pounded my fist, a little too hard, but desperate times call for I don’t give a shit measures… which is why I not only ignore his barking, but shove open the door and barge into Sawyer Beckett’s office, my fury blowing in ten steps ahead of me.
“Sutton? What the hell’s gotten into you, boy? Beatin’ on shit, stomping in here all puffed-up like your dick hangs to the floor; you lost your damn mind?”
“Since you asked, yeah, I have. And the only way to find it, is to find her. Where is she?”