“You’re a fucking ass, Dance man.”
I absolutely am and even more so than he knows right now.
“Bull will watch Carrie and you will get your ass here,” Dragon finishes.
“I don’t…”
“Wow, I didn’t realize.”
“Realize what?” I ask trying to watch Carrie as she gets up with the sheet wrapped around her.
“That I woke up this morning in a world where it is fucking okay for you to question me. Get your ass here, or I’ll make sure it gets here. I’ve cut you slack Dance, but do not fucking test me on this,” he orders, hanging up.
I end the call and turn to watch Carrie walking away.
“Carrie, honey I didn’t…”
“Yes you did, you enjoyed telling him,” she says quietly, turning to look at me.
“I didn’t lie, there’s no reason for you to be acting like I did,” I grumble, knowing I’m making a bigger fucking mess, but I’m not about to keep apologizing.
“No, you didn’t lie.”
“Damn it, Princess.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jacob,” she says quietly, turning to go into the bathroom.
“You should be glad you got a man that makes you…”
“I am glad to be with you, Jacob. I just don’t think you can say the same. Tell me, Jacob? Will it upset you at all when you succeed in pushing me away? Or is that not important, now that you’ve had me?”
Her quiet questions punch me in the gut. She doesn’t stay to see the hit delivered. She closes the door and leaves it to echo in the silence. I look down and see the small stain of red blood on the sheet. My guilt ramps up.
Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!! FUCK!
Chapter 19
Carrie
It is weak, I admit it. I lean against the bathroom door, until I hear Jacob’s bike start up and become a distant rumble. I run a bath with hot, hot water and slide inside. I wash every inch of my skin, needing to feel less used. I hold it together, until the hot water becomes less than lukewarm and then, my tears fall.
I don’t know how long I cried. It could have been ten minutes—it could have been an hour. I’d probably still be lost, except for the touch on my shoulder. I gasp in surprise. Nicole is looking down at me, with a sad look on her face.
“Let’s get you out of here, before you prune up,” she says. Proof she has been here for a while, she is holding a big bath towel out to me.
I wrap up in the towel and let her lead me back to the bedroom. She has stripped the bed and put clean sheets on it. I’m a little sad because those sheets smelled like Jacob. I might be hurting, but if I could wrap up in his scent and just pretend it was all okay for the night? Just pretend long enough to sleep? I’d be okay with that.
“I found your pajamas. Dry off and put them on and I’ll brush your hair.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Shush, you need a friend and I’ve decided it is going to be me. So suck it up and do as I say. I’ll go get you something to drink.”
“How do you know?” I question, not able to voice the whole question. I’m not sure I want to face or process what has happened.
“Dragon told me.”
“Of course he did, I guess everyone knows now.”
“Only me, and shame on you for thinking Dragon would ever do something like that.”
“I didn’t really. I figured Jacob has already told the world.”
I notice she doesn’t argue with that. Probably, because she knows I’m right.
“What do you want to drink?” She asks, going to the door.
“Getting drunk sounds appealing right now and don’t try to tell me I’m underage,” I mumble. I don’t need to be told I’m a child. I am adult even if I don’t feel equipped to handle this situation with Jacob.
“Brandy it is,” she mumbles.
I dry off, and slip on the clothes she laid out. Then, I crawl under the covers. I lay my head on the pillow and mourn the fact that it no longer smells of Jacob. I grab the other one and hold it close to my stomach, hugging it.
I have no idea where to go from here. I’m not ready to give up, but suddenly I’m seeing this may be a bigger job than I first imagined.
“Here, sit up and take a drink of this. We need to brush your hair.”
“I don’t want to, I just want to go to sleep,” I say honestly.
“Drink and hush,” she bosses placing the drink in my hands. I take a sip, grimacing at the obvious dark taste of alcohol.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks angling behind me. I guess I’m getting my hair brushed, whether I want it or not. I take another drink.
“No.”
“I warned you it wasn’t going to be easy,” she says while she runs a brush through my curls.
“I think you possibly understated that,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.