Page 65 of Thick & Thin

Hurt.

Betrayal.

Longing.

Jealousy.

Need.

All of it pummeled me, pushing at my shoulder like a man ready for a fight. Egging me on to throw the first punch, so that was exactly what I did the moment I stepped up beside Jenny fucking Michaels.

I threw a verbal punch. I opened my mouth, and things I would have never said to another person came from my lips.

21

Jenny

“Guess what they say is true,”he said, sliding up to the bar next to me.

He rested his elbows on top of the bar and leaned into it. I didn’t look his way, but I knew he was talking to me.

“And what’s that?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

One minute, he was sitting across the bar and staring back at me with a look in his eyes I couldn’t name, and the next, he was at my side, the heat from his body burning me even though we weren’t touching.

I felt as though my chest was caving in. Part of me had wanted to see his face so badly it burned, but the other part of me, the new self-conscious part, didn’t want him to see me. I was fat. I had gained so much weight since we had last seen each other. My body and its hormones had lost their ever-loving minds and decided I would be much better suited for a size eighteen over my old size two.

“Sprints is basically full of trash these days.”

His hurtful words struck their intended target … my heart, and I sucked in an injured breath before turning his way. My eyes collided with his, and all the warmth that had once lived in his dark gaze was gone. Instead, there was only cold anger staring back at me.

His face was harder, his eyes stern, and his lips tight. He wasn’t thrilled to see me, and honestly, I felt the same. The urge to leave was strong, but I was too prideful for that. Instead, I remained seated and lifted my beer for a casual drink. It was too late to turn and leave. My spine stiffened, and I sat up straighter, hoping to smooth my fat rolls. Sweat dotted my upper lip, and I quickly swiped at it. I was nervous, although, I would have eaten nails before I admitted it.

He wanted to play the asshole.

Fine.

But I was too adult for that shit. I wasn’t about to respond to his bullshit.

Instead, I turned away as if his words had meant nothing.

“Did you hear me?” he pressed.

“Yep,” I said, popping the P.

What had I ever done to him?

He was the one who had pushed me away.

The one who had ended our friendship or whatever the hell it was.

He was different inside and out.

Cold and callous.

His body was leaner, and he was taller.

He moved closer, his familiar scent invading my space, and that, combined with the width of his shoulders, took my breath away. Josh was no longer a nineteen-year-old boy.

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