Page 16 of Filthy Rich Brother’s Best Friends (Filthy Rich Harems #5)

Halfway through the next glass, the wine starts to feel warm in my veins. But I am still too sober. Because I have not drunk anywhere near enough to forget the bills piling up or the fact that I let Reid touch me this morning and then watched him laugh with Gigi like nothing happened.

When the bottle’s empty, I rinse it and drop it into the recycling. The sound echoes too loudly in the quiet. I stand there a second longer, debating with myself.

Then I reach for the tequila.

This time I don’t bother with a glass. I take a sip straight from the bottle as I slide down to the floor. I tip my head back against the cabinet and try to breathe through the anxiety. But it doesn’t work.

Something has to give soon and I’m really hoping it’s not my sanity. I’m not holding out hope, though. It’s already slipping. How else do you explain that I am falling for three men who live across the damn lawn?

Maybe the problem is that I want too much.

I want a successful business that supports me enough that I can move out of this house.

Sure I could move in with Wes but that sounds like a legitimate nightmare.

Although is it more of a nightmare than living with two frenemies who seem to be rooting for me to lose in life?

And I want three men without having to choose.

Maybe I’m just selfish but each one makes my heart ache for different reasons.

Well, Reid just makes my head ache. But Jude and Miles are different.

They see me in ways I don’t even see myself.

With them it’s not just lust, it’s comfort.

I can see a real future with both of them… if I had the time to build one.

I press my forehead to my knees. Eventually, I stand.

I leave the tequila on the counter and step out the back door without bothering to put shoes on. I walk off the patio and dig my toes in the damp grass. I don’t stop walking until the patio light fades behind me and the yard starts to blur in the shadows.

I’m alone. I’m always alone and part of me is so tired of it. Reid is right. I never ask for help. But I never feel like I can.

I’m starting to really feel the alcohol now. My skin is flushed and I’m swaying a little.

This was probably not the best idea. I’m not a happy drunk.

I have only two settings when it comes to too much alcohol: weepy drunk and horny drunk.

Sometimes they happen at the same time. I once cried because I couldn’t get my pants off fast enough.

Surprisingly, the guy didn’t run for the hills. He did leave before dawn, though.

Looks like weepy is up first. I can already feel the sting building behind my eyes. My whole life is falling apart and I have no idea how to stop it. And I was never taught how to ask for help.

Wes and I didn’t come from much. And while my parents were kind and loving, they weren’t soft. They believed in self- reliance. I was praised for figuring things out on my own and not making waves.

Feelings were something you pushed past, not something you talked about. We coped by moving forward, whether we were ready emotionally or not. I don’t know how to do it any other way.

But I’ve done everything I was supposed to do and it doesn’t matter. Wes never had to work as hard as I do. The boy genius was coding by the time he was twelve. He sold his first app at twenty-two for a six figure sum.

He paid for my education. Then he gave me the seed money I needed to start my studio. Asking for more is…I just can’t do that. And admitting I’m overwhelmed would be admitting I can’t handle it. I don’t do that.

Suddenly I’m not alone anymore. I don’t even have to look to know who it is. Jude has this presence about him I can feel long before I ever see him.

He steps close enough that our shoulders are brushing. “Rough night?”

I look at him. “That obvious?”

He smiles as he reaches out and brushes a piece of hair from my cheek. His fingers barely graze my skin, but it’s enough to undo me. I can’t even stop myself from leaning into his touch.

His thumb strokes down my jawline until it presses under my chin. He searches my eyes when they meet his. When he leans in and kisses me, I don’t stop him. I kiss him back.

I lean in as he pulls me closer. His thumb lifts my chin, angling my face just right before his mouth takes mine deeper. His arm slides around my waist and holds me there. For a moment, I let myself get lost in it.

I reach up around his neck. His hand slides from my chin to my throat and the kiss starts to slow. Things start to move toward something more?—

But then he pulls back.

Jude rests his forehead against mine. “Not like this,” he whispers. “You deserve better than a half-drunk hookup.”

I don’t argue. He’s right. Even if I still want the half-drunk kisses…and a whole lot more. But I’m barely holding myself together. And even though part of me wants the distraction, I know this isn’t how I want it to be.

Jude has the potential to be something real. I know that I don’t have the time or energy for a relationship, and I’m worried that if I keep pushing him away I’ll lose my chance with him. And I don’t want to miss out on him.

“Okay.” I tip my head forward until it rests against him.

He pulls me in even closer, one hand rubbing my back, gently pushing into stiff muscles. For the first time in a long time, I take a deep breath.