Page 137 of Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

“I drank by myself—” he hiccups “—in my hotel room to celebrate my win.”

“Congratulations, you won most likely to be an asshole for the rest of your life and the Singapore Grand Prix in one weekend. You must be so proud.”

He sighs. “I’m not proud. I’m surviving.”

“Why did you call me?” I enunciate my words with a hint of bitterness.

“You want the truth?”

“With you, maybe the lie is better this time. Your version of the truth is a bit brutal for my taste.”

“Okay. Lies it is. I don’t miss you.”

My heart clenches in my chest. “I’m hanging up now.” Yet I can’t find the will to press the red button on the screen.

“Lie. I’m happy without you.” He sighs. “I don’t think of you at all. I don’t wake up every morning, dreaming you’re there, only to realize none of it is real. Lies, lies, lies.”

My frustration grows as he toys with me. “You don’t get to call me, drunk and alone, saying you miss me when you pushed me away. I’m not here to console you. You ruined everything for me.” You ruined us.

“I know,” he says somberly. “I only wanted to hear your voice. It was selfish of me.”

“Why do it then?”

“To remind me why this is all worth it. The pain, the loneliness—all of it. To not give in and beg you to take me back.”

“Jax… I don’t know what you want me to say.” My heart aches in my chest, dull and throbbing at his admission. I can’t begin to understand the complexity of his mind.

“Nothing. This was enough, so thank you for answering. Sorry I called. It won’t happen again.” He hangs up before I can respond.

My confusion turns into anger before devolving into sadness. I don’t understand Jax’s true reason for calling me, but I do know he left a hole in my heart the size of his fist.

48

Jax

Shit. I fucked up.

Drinking was a terrible idea. But getting pissed and calling Elena is exactly the reason I have trust issues with alcohol.

I type out an apology text to her the minute I wake up in the morning. As my finger hovers above the send button, I stop and call Sophie instead.

“Hi. I need help.” My hoarse voice sets the desperate tone I feel at the moment.

Sophie groans. “At 7 a.m.?”

“Can you please explain why the fuck you’re calling my girlfriend at the ass-crack of dawn?” Liam’s irritated speech is cut off by his yawn.

“I wanted to ask her for advice.”

“Fine. You owe me Starbucks after waking me up this early,” he replies. Sophie mumbles something I can only imagine dulls Liam’s annoyance. I’d gag if I wasn’t jealous.

“Okay, forget the Starbucks. Bother us every morning for all I care.” Liam laughs.

Sheets rustle as Sophie asks me to hold on a second. A door shuts on her end of the phone before she answers again. “So, what’s up?”

“Sorry to bug you this early.”

She laughs. “Don’t worry about it.”