Page 89 of A Wreck, You Make Me (Bad Boys of Bardstown #3)

Chapter Thirty-Four

When you’re part of a family, disappearing takes a lot of work.

It takes planning and scheming. Not that I was in any shape to scheme or plan the night everything happened. I was a wreck, for lack of a better word. Or rather, wreck is a perfect word. Because that’s what he makes me.

In any case when he left me in my room, I crumpled to the floor and I cried and cried. Then I got up and decided that I didn’t want to be here. I couldn’t be here when he got back. I couldn’t face him, and neither could I face anyone when my heart was breaking.

My first call was to Tempest because she’s the one who knows at least part of it.

She left the party to come to me because that’s what good friends do.

I confessed to her about me and Shepard, that something had been going on between us.

But now it was over. I didn’t tell her the details as to why or what happened, and she respected my privacy enough to not ask.

Although I bet she could see whatever had happened was probably brutal and heartbreaking with the way I kept hiccupping and sniffling.

My next call was to Callie. Because I was done with secrets. And if I did disappear for a few days, they all deserved an explanation as to why. A truthful explanation.

By then, they’d all come back from the party and Callie, like the best friend she is, left her babies and her husband to come into my room to talk to me.

As always, Callie was supportive. But then again, when has she not supported me?

Even so, I apologized for not confiding in her sooner and keeping my feelings for her big brother a secret.

She waved that away, saying all of us have had secrets from time to time.

And that she was more concerned about me and whatever her brother had done to me.

And then came Snow. I felt bad waking her up in the middle of the night, but I had to tell her.

Even though it felt like one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, telling her the truth and then getting her permission to get away for a while.

I felt like the shittiest sister in the whole wide world.

It reminded me of what my mother had said that I had to be willing to make sacrifices for her, for my baby and this was the opposite of that.

But then Snow told me, “You’ve done everything for me, Juju. Every single thing. You protect me. You love me. You take care of me. You work so hard for me, and you never ever make me feel like a burden and I’m not even your?—”

“Don’t say it,” I cut her off. “You are my sister and I will always do everything for you. For as long as I can.”

“So then, do this for me,” she said, her eyes watery. “Go away for a while. I’ll be okay. We have a family now.”

While the situation was miserable, it still made me happy to hear her say that.

To see her believe she has people in her corner and not feel insecure like she had in the beginning.

And it’s all thanks to the Thorne family.

No, it’s all thanks to him who went out of his way to make his new sister feel welcome.

God, leave it to him to do the sweetest things that sting like a bite.

Then, I proceeded to tell her to not give him a hard time. I told her whatever happened wasn’t his fault and that sometimes people just weren’t meant to be together.

It was—is—both a truth and a lie because we are meant to be together but at the same time, we aren’t. He has issues and no matter how many times I try to look past them, I can’t. Not this time. So even though, we’re perfect for each other, we aren’t supposed to stay together.

But it’s the testament of the care he’s taken with Snow that she said, “He’ll fix it. Whatever he broke, he’ll make it better. I know him. He’s the best big brother a girl could ask for. He’ll fix your heart too, Juju.”

It made me both smile and tear up. Her absolute conviction in him and the fact that my sweet sister didn’t know—and I hope she never ever finds out—that some things couldn’t be fixed.

Anyway, once I told everyone the truth and shared that I wanted to get away for a bit, Callie and Tempest offered to help me. But I told them no. I didn’t want them to have to lie if he or anyone else asked. So I enlisted the help of the last person he’d ever think of: Isadora.

We’d only met or rather officially met that night and I had no right to go to her.

But I was desperate. I told her the same story and asked if she could help me get away for a while.

She was kind enough to say yes even though she looked extremely disappointed that I was breaking up with him.

Well, not breaking up because there wasn’t anything to break up from.

No relationship whatsoever. And even if there was, he was the one to leave first.

In any case, here I am. In New York City.

I’ve been here three days, and I already want to stay here forever and leave right now.

As amazing as this city is where you really get to disappear, which I desperately need right now, this isn’t home.

This isn’t where I feel safe and secure.

All of that is back in Bardstown where my family is. My sister, the Thornes. Him .

But turns out, I can’t go back home. Not yet and not because of him. Or rather, not only because of him. It’s also because somehow, I’m the porn star of Bardstown.

God, just the thought of it makes me blush so fiercely and actually causes me to stumble on my high heels as I walk down the sidewalk.

I’m trudging back to my apartment after my long evening walk.

In truth, it started out as an afternoon walk that turned into an evening walk.

Mostly because I didn’t want to go back to the empty apartment.

As amazing as that apartment is—and also, fully stocked because Isadora had called ahead and had their housekeeper stock the kitchen and the fridge for me—it also makes me realize how lonely I am. How heartbroken.

How I want his arms around me to tell me things are going to be okay.

Between us. That everything isn’t so bad and the world will move on from that stupid video.

Gosh, how am I supposed to face my family now?

How am I supposed to face all my stepbrothers and Callie and Tempest and oh my God, Snow.

My little sister, my baby, my everything and…

Just then I feel something in the back of my neck, and I come to a halt.

I haven’t felt that ever since I got here three days ago.

While I’ve felt people looking at me on occasion, I knew they weren’t though.

And it was only because of that leaked video and the article that I felt that way.

No one in this city cares about a redhead walking down the street with her head bent and tears streaming down her cheeks.

In fact, they go out of the way to not look and keep their distance.

So this is new. This feeling is new but also so familiar and I spin around to look.

As always, I don’t have to look hard or even far. I find him right away. I find him standing only a few feet behind me. Or more like, coming to a halt mid-step. Much like I did only a couple of seconds ago.

For a few seconds, all I can do is stare at him, take him in, trying to think if this is real.

If he really is standing on a sidewalk in New York City as people walk past us, looking at me like I’m his dream come true.

Like he’s been searching for me for years and he’s so tired now.

There are pits under his eyes and his face has lost all its color.

His features have honed into sharp, weary points and his eyes are red-rimmed.

But here I am finally so he can breathe.

I know that because he does. His chest moves with a large, large breath that moves through his entire body.

It hollows out his abs. It makes him shift on his feet.

It parts his lips even. It even makes his arms flex including the flowers he’s holding in his hand, purple roses.

I see the bouquet tremor in his hand, and I realize not only is he real but he’s here to apologize. For leaving me in my room that night. He’s finally realized that I meant what I said; I wouldn’t be waiting for him when he came back. And he’s brought me flowers.

It makes me so angry, so… furious that I do the only thing that makes sense.

I run. I wheel around on my heels and I start pumping my legs.

And of course, he starts chasing me because that’s who he is.

Because he thinks he can come here, throw his stupid flowers at me, tell me he’s sorry and everything will go back to normal.

We’ll go back to our volatile, toxic, beautiful non-relationship where he never ever admits to his feelings and keeps lying to himself and me.

No, thank you. I’m not doing that. I’m never ever doing that.

So I run as fast as I can but even I know, there’s no outrunning him.

He’s a wrecking ball both on and off the field, and he won’t let anything stand in his way if he wants to get to me.

A few seconds later, I’m proven right when I feel his fingers wrapping around my bicep.

Before I’m not only being stopped in my tracks but tugged back to crash against his hard body.

And then as always, he maneuvers me however he wants me by snaking an arm around my waist and hauling me up and off the ground.

This time though I have enough wherewithal to scream.

This is New York City. People are actually walking up and down the street.

And as much as they don’t care about someone crying by them on the subway, someone will come to my rescue.

And you know what, maybe someone will call 911 too.

So he gets arrested for literally lifting me off the sidewalk in broad daylight.

Or muted evening light. His career be damned. Everything about him be damned.