Page 51 of Desired By you (Always & Forever #3)
Chapter Forty-Two
Brad
I sit at my desk in my office, sipping on my coffee, and going through our accounts.
The past month was our biggest loss. Someone is stealing money, and I need to find out who.
I’ve been in a shitty mood since Gabriella left.
I don’t know where we go from here. I was kind of an ass to her.
But last night, it was everything. Sex has never felt like that with anyone but her.
But it’s not just about the sex. I just want to be around her.
My phone buzzes on the table and Harry’s name flashes on the screen.
Harry
Where are you?
I text back.
Brad
At the club, waiting on a delivery. Is everything okay?
I put my phone back down as Jack walks through my office door.
“Morning,” he says, a little groggy.
“You look worse than me. Rough night with the girls?”
“No, they stayed at my parents because we were out with you. No, Ria tossed and turned all night and then was up early, throwing her guts up. Morning sickness is a bitch.” He flops onto the coach.
“Sounds it,” I say in agreement.
“I feel bad. Like it’s my fault.”
“Kind of is. You did knock her up,” I tease.
The door to my office hits the wall.
“Harry?” Jack says. Harry's eyes zone in on mine and he charges at me, like a bull to a red flag. He grabs me by the collar.
“What the fuck?” I roar as I try to move away, but he shoves me back with such force, I groan in pain as my spine hits the wall.
“You knew. You fucking knew, and you didn’t tell me,” he yells. Balling his hands into fists, he goes to swing. I get ready to block, but Jack covers Harry’s fist with his hand.
“Harry, stop!” Jack yells, trying to pull him off me, but he can’t. The adrenaline pumping through him right now has taken over.
“No, he knew, he knew, and he didn’t tell me. If you had told me I could have stopped her, if I hadn’t got there—”
“Stopped what? Harry, you are talking in riddles. Back away and talk to us,” Jack begs.
I’m now nose to nose with Harry, his breathing ragged, eyes wild, his body vibrating with rage. It breaks me to see my friend in so much pain and it hurts even more to know he thinks I’m the reason for it.
“Harry, I don’t know what you are talking about.
She only told me that—” He doesn’t let me finish.
His large frame collapses into me and it takes all the strength I have to hold him upright and keep him together as he splinters.
The usual confident life and soul of any party is now a broken heap on the office floor, and as I listen to every gut churning detail, all I can do is blame myself.
I should have noticed, seen she was struggling, pushed her for more answers.
But I didn’t and when the mention of Gabriella’s name and a therapy group they all met at when they were teens breaks through the haze of guilt, I feel numb, and all I want to do is run to Gabriella and try to save her, because everything in my core tells me something is wrong.