Page 43 of Forgive You

“Okay! Bye, stalker!” His voice bellows behind me, testing my patience.

I’m equally annoyed with him as I am with myself, because I’m not enough in denial to not see the truth in his words. I’ve been out of it ever since that first meeting at NVS. It doesn’t help that Ford and Jordan keep bringing her up, but I can’t say that’s the only reason.

She wanders into my dreams like she belongs there, and when I’m awake, she’s burned into my brain. But not for the right reasons. It’s very different from a year ago when I’d call her just to catch up or we’d fly across the country and hang out.

Now, I’m in a constant battle between the memories I love and cherish and the memories that are like an open wound on my heart, squirming as salt is poured on them every time I lock eyes with her.

I push the button on my key fob and get in the car, before I glance at my phone to pull up the text with her address.

You know the world is fucked when Ford Lawson starts saying smart shit. I’m worked up about Julie because I do care, and as much as I want to stay mad at her, the worry that’s covering my shredded heart is growing bigger by the day.

The way she lost it at the yacht party is a version of Julie I’ve never seen before. Never has she lost control; her senses overruled by panic.

The sight of it clawed through my insides and set up shop, not willing to leave until I got to the bottom of it. And now she’s called in sick? My gut says something is going on with her, and I bet me acting like a raging asshole around her isn’t helping. Nor does it make her want to open up to me.

I put my ego back to bed and decide I’m going to show up at her door to see if she needs anything. To check if she’s okay.

So, when I walk up the creaky stairs of her building thirty minutes later with a bag of food, I actually have a pep in my step. Today, I’m coming in peace. I just want to make sure she’s alright and if she needs anything. It’s what I would do if we were still in North Carolina, so I can put my grumpiness aside for a day or two. You know, since she doesn’t have anyone else here.

I stop in front of her door, noticing paint chips coming off the green wood. This is where she lives? Couldn’t NVS get her something better?

I roll my shoulders, then fill my lungs before I relax my face and knock on the door.

“Just a minute!” There’s some audible scrambling inside, and I sense my mouth curling at the thought of her opening the door any second now.

What the hell, Jason?

But it’s true. The longer I stand here, the more I realize we have a lot of unfinished business that’s not going to disappear by pretending it’s not there.

It is. I have to work with her, and I don’t want to frown all the time.

The door is jammed open, and my attention is instantly drawn to the friendly smile on her pouty lips.

But it’s how her Bambi brown eyes widen, and her kind expression dissolves in front of my gaze that fucks with my mood. “Jason.”

I thought seeing her would make things better for me. That I would take care of her like old times, and that even though we have a lot of shit to work on, we can work on them in baby steps. But as I take her in from head to toe, I realize that’s nowhere near the truth.

There’re no bloodshot eyes, no runny nose, no pale skin.

Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun, her gorgeous curves hugged tight by snug yoga pants, and her torso buried in an oversized hoodie. She looks all cuddly and cute.

“Brought soup.” I hold up the white bag, then storm through her front door, never dropping my gaze from hers while I slip right back into asshole mode as if it’s my second nature.

With my back to her living room, I set the bag on the kitchen counter, not missing one moment of her outraged face.

“What-what are you doing here?” As the door closes behind her, I fold my arms in front of my chest.

I can’t believe I convinced myself she needed my help. “You’re not sick.”

Her shock wears off, and she mimics my stance, dropping her back against the old front door with a glare that’s meant to kill or make me leave. Neither is going to happen.

Too bad, baby.

“How do you know where I live?”

“Since when do you lie and cheat?” I ask, before her eyes grow lethal.

12

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