Page 111 of Over the Line


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But I manage to lift my chin, for my words to be frosty. “Cool,” I tell him, waving a hand at the bottle. “I’ll just let you get drunk like an idiot.”

He shoos me away disdainfully. “Finally.”

I turn on my heel, hurry to the bedroom, thinking that as soon as it’s morning, I’m getting the fuck out of here.

Because if he’s likethis…

Like this not even one goddamn day after asking me to stay—

Then fuck him.

The open road is a hundred times better.

Forty-Two

Lake

Tap.Tap. Tap.

I jerk, lifting my head from my steering wheel, glancing out the window.

Mack’s standing there in his sheriff’s uniform, flashlight out, expression furrowed in concern.

I hit the button to roll down the window.

He looks at me for a long moment.

Then turns on his heel. “Get your ass inside my house.”

I scowl, open my mouth to snap out—

“I can make that an order—and one with handcuffs—if you don’t get your head out of your ass.”

“Fucking hell,” I growl, jabbing at the button to turn off my car, snatching up my phone, and getting out of the SUV. “I haven’t been drinking.”

Or not since I shoved the bottle away and got the fuck out of my house so I wasn’t tempted to go down the hall and find Nova.

To apologize.

Or to get rip-roaring drunk and do something worse—like tell her what I’m feeling deep inside—

Mack slams my car door, and I snap out of it.

This shit needs to end now.

Before it gets worse.

Before I become more attached and she becomes—

Someone I can’t look at or talk to or stand to be in the same room with.

“I can smell the vodka on your breath, idiot. But I’m not worried about you being drunk—I know it takes more than what I can smell on you.” He hitches his head to the right—to his house.

Which, apparently, I parked in front of.

I’m an asshole…anda fucking idiot.

“It’s below freezing,” he mutters. “So, get your ass inside.” He starts up his driveway, clomps onto his porch, then opens and holds the door wide for me.

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