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“Excuse me?”
“We were drunk. We let the emotions of the day get the best of us. Right?”
“That’s what you think? That’s the bullshit excuse you’re going to sell yourself?”
“It’s not a bullshit excuse, Jax. Yesterday was horrible. The funeral. The heaviness of it all.”
“Oh, right. Your asshole boyfriend refuses to show up so you decide to let me touch you and make you come?”
She gasps.
I lean down toward her. “And don’t lie to me, honey. That was the hardest you’ve come in a long time.”
“We were drunk,” she insists.
She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
“That’s pathetic,” I say.
I start to walk away.
“So you’re just leaving now?” Mila asks.
“Yeah,” I say without looking back. “We’re not drunk anymore. We have no reason to talk.”
I’m done here.
I’m done with this house.
I’m done with the notion of death floating in the air.
And I’m more than done with Mila’s sense of denial.
Maybe she’s feeling guilty. Maybe she’s battling a normally good-mannered heart.
That’s not my problem.
Me?
I won’t be used.
I won’t be the in between guy.
It shouldn’t matter to me though.
For some reason… when it comes to Mila… she’s got my head twisted up tight.
42
MILA
It feels empty, okay?
If you’re wondering how I feel and how this entire thing feels right now.
It feels completely and totally empty.
And you’re asking yourself what the hell is she talking about… the word is everything.
