Page 16 of Whatever It Takes

My chest gets tight.

It’s not just me who doesn’t know where Jameson is. Easton was pissed about not being able to get in touch with him all day.

It’s fine.

I’ve sensed something was wrong for a few weeks now. It’s my own damn fault for letting those dimples and sparkling eyes convince me that we could have something special.

We moved way too fast.

He’s obviously spiraling because he wasn’t prepared for the level of commitment that comes with a live-in girlfriend. I bet it’ll be a huge relief for him to get home and realize I’m gone.

There’s no way I can fit everything into the two suitcases that I find in the guest bedroom closet. I grab the duffel bag at the bottom and load it up, too, even though it’s not mine.

Jameson bought me several pairs of beautiful red-bottom heels that it’s physically painful to leave behind, but one hasn’t even been worn. Maybe he can return them and buy himself a new duffel bag.

I carry the suitcases out to the entryway and go back for the duffel. It’s heavy from being loaded down with shoes, jeans, and two spare jackets. I ended up leaving behind a lot of the lightweight items, like T-shirts and dresses, because it’s winter. I focused on the things I’ll actually be able to wear in frigid temperatures.

My eyes ache as I reposition the duffel higher on my shoulder. Tugging out my phone, I pull up a rideshare app and order a car.

The bus station isn’t too far away, and the first step is getting out of town.

Once I have some distance, I’ll hunker down in a hotel for a night or two while I work on making a long-term plan.

I shove my phone into my pocket and open the door. It’s going to take two trips to get all my stuff out into the hall. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to manage getting it all onto the elevator.

I drop the duffel on the floor and keep the door open with my foot to get the suitcases. Jameson’s key is still on my key ring, and I debate if I should leave a note with it once I get the bags moved.

The door across the hall pops open, and I grimace while avoiding looking over.

Steffanie has been nothing short of friendly to me, and it makes me feel rotten because I have no excuse to hate her. Okay, hate is an extreme word that I should probably reserve for men like my dead fiancé, my father, and my brother.

I don’t like her.

At all.

Something about her feels off.

More like you don’t like the way Jameson looks at her.

Well, that’s true, and the worst part is, it’s not her fault.

That’s on him, and I know that.

It still doesn’t make the hollow pit in my gut lessen.

I’m sure she’ll be around to comfort him when I go missing.

“Are you sure you have to go?” Steffanie’s voice fills the air, making me jolt. “It’s still early.”

“Yeah, I’ve got like fifteen missed calls from my boss.” Jameson wasinsideher apartment.

Okay, realistically speaking…he was insideher.

That’s where he’s been when he was MIA all day. It’s hard to be indignant when I’m in the process of leaving without a word, but my stomach burns with the urge to make a scene.

Damn omega genetics.

My eyes ache like I might shed actual tears. It’s just another example of a man discarding me like I never meant anything. He could have broken up with me, then fucked her.

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