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Jude
Ifucked up.
I really, really fucked up.
How the hell was I supposed to know he had some psychopath tracking him? Had I known, I could have avoided turning on his phone. Hell, I could have taken preventative steps to keep him protected in the first place.
He should have told me.
I should have asked.
Tate is kind and sweet, despite my earlier misgivings. I doubted him rather than giving him the chance he deserved at first. Now, he’s beyond upset with me. Whatever thing was transpiring between us feels irrevocably snapped.
It’s what I wanted, yet…
I fucking don’t.
I don’t want him to leave me. Not when I finally had my first taste of happiness since high school. If he leaves, that hope and sunshine I was looking forward to basking in each day will be gone. I’ll be back to being the recluse of Park Manor, hiding in the shadows and soaking in my pain.
It felt good not to hurt all the time.
Tate was good for me.
By the time I follow him outside to where Sloane waits, my mind is a fucking mess. Tate is shaken and upset, but worse yet, he won’t look at me. His walls are slamming into place around him. Is this how everyone else feels when they try to connect with me? Trapped outside with no hope of ever getting in?
Disgust at myself and the situation settles in my gut, souring it. I want to join Tate and Sloane to hear all the details, but I also need to give Tate some space.
He thinks I’m just like him—his ex. Knowing he puts me in the same category as a man who apparently beat and ridiculed him hurts. This ex of his stalks him and vandalizes his property. And I’m just like this fucker?
Dempsey lingers near Tate and Sloane for a bit before meandering over to me. His eyebrows are furled. Is he pissed at me too?
“He’s telling her he knows who it is but doesn’t want to pursue it or press charges,” Dempsey reveals. “Sloane is trying to talk him out of it.”
He doesn’t want to press charges? Is he insane?
A feral growl rumbles out of me and I crack my neck. Before I can storm over there, Dempsey grabs my arm, stopping me.
“Don’t,” he warns. “For whatever reason, Tate is fucking mad at you. Going over there and bullying your way through their conversation won’t help your case.”
I look down at my baby brother and frown. “Help my case?”
Dempsey chuckles lowly. “I’m no idiot. You two clearly have it bad for each other. Are you fucking him?”
My jaw muscles clench and I fist my hands. “None of your business.”
“You’re dumb as fuck, Jude. It’s obvious you two are together.”
You two are together.
That small phrase has my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I didn’t think I deserved any happiness, especially with Tate, but now that I’ve tasted it, I’m addicted. I don’t want to let go of it.
Tate is mine.
I’m sure your stalker twin, his ex, feels that way too…
“Why won’t he press charges?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Says it’ll get worse. That’s when Sloane gave me the stink eye to leave. Maybe she’ll be able to get through to him alone.” He stares at her for a long beat before shaking his head and then looking back over at Tate’s car. “His ex sounds like a real psychopath. We should fuck him up.”
