Page 33 of Altered

Jordan

I watched, cold as the ice around my heart, as Hope strolled down Max Jones's porch steps, arm in arm withhim.

This was it.

All the proof I needed.

I would never be enough for her.

I could never fill his shoes.

Straddling my bike, I unscrewed the cap on the half-empty fifth of Jack I'd bought on the way here and put the bottle to my lips.

I'd drank the first half of the bottle watching that bastard carry a body out of the Carter's house before burning off in his flashy wheels with Noah Messina.

Yeah, I might have fallen off the wagon in spectacular style, but I knew what I saw.

I knew what these people were capable of and it made me sick.

Fucking creatures.

Murderers.

He could take my wife, but I was going to take the bastard's freedom.

Silently, I raised my hand and toasted the woman who had taken the last bit of good in my life away.

With every mouthful of whiskey that slid down the back of my throat, I felt the final piece of my reason for surviving slip away.

Sex.

It was justsex.

When that burned out, what would she be left with?

A thug behind prison bars.

I wanted to hate her.

God, I wanted to hate her so badly, but the emotion wouldn’t come.

The only thing inside of me was love and pain and fearfor her.

"Fuck love," I slurred to myself. "Fuck you!"

I was broken.

I needed to hate her.

She was lying to me, just like everyone else.

But the fear of losing her crippled me.

I watched him pressmywife against the side of his truck.

And then they were kissing.

Frantically.

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