Page 137 of Puck My Life

“Yep.”

I swipe at the annoying tears that keep escaping.

“Oh, honey, I am sorry.”

“I’m not. It was good. To have closure. To say it all properly and to get the anger out.”

“Yes. To all that, but also that he didn’t fight harder.”

He turns the car around.

“Where are we going?”

“You don’t need brunch; you need booze, and the good stuff, none of that shitty stuff.”

He drags me into his massive house and pulls out a bottle of vodka and a bottle of brandy.

“Which one first?”

I reach for the vodka.

I’m dancing to the music, swaying in his lounge room. I’ve turned it up so loud I can’t think. I know I’m really drunk, and he’s passed out on the couch.

All I want is them, it’s every heartbeat.

“My sick addiction,” I hiss under my breath.

Another song comes on, and I hop around the room, thrashing my hair back and forth. It should be fun, but it isn’t. None of it is.

I pull out my phone and stare at it.

I should call them.

With a giggle, I slip out of the room and into the hallway and press his name.

“Who is this?” Deacon growls.

“Your voice is in my dreams. I want you to go away, but I’m scared if you disappear from my dreams, I really will never see you again.”

“Vae?”

“You ruined everything.”

He’s silent for a moment while I giggle. “Are you drunk, Vae?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“How much did you have?”

“I had vodka and brandy. You hurt me!” I shout.

“I know I did; how about you tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you, and you can let me grovel. I look good on my knees.”

My pulse thunders in my veins. He did look so good on his knees.

“My pussy misses your cock.” I burst into laughter.

Okay, that’s not funny.