“We—”he says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal. Like an everyday family affair.
He says it with authority.
Possession.
He says it like a goddamnhusband!
“Put Elijah on the phone!” I snap, teetering on the edge of completely losing my shit.
I hear him exhale—a long, slow sigh—and I can picture it so clearly; his broad hand dragging through those thick waves of hair, smug and composed.
“Alex…”
The way he stretches out my name, dragging extrae’slike venom across my nerves, sends a shiver straight down my spine. His accent is so much like Elijah’s, it makes my skin crawl.
“He’s in the shower. I’ll have him call you back when he gets out,sí?”
And that’s it.
I lose my shit.
I hurl my phone across the room. It slams against the wall and shatters.
The animalistic noise that rips from my throat blends with the ferocious wind howling outside. It doesn’t even sound human.
I’m out of my bed in a flash, yanking my jeans up over shaky legs, heart pounding so loud I can barely think.
The bedroom door flies open.
Teya stands there, wild-eyed, panic and sleep clinging to her face.
“What happened, Alex? What are you doing? Where are you going?”
She fires off questions like bullets.
“Alex,stop!”
Teya’s right behind me, heavy on my heels as I yank my T-shirt over my head and barrel down the hallway. In the kitchen, I swipe her car keys without slowing and fling open the front door,nearly tearing it off its hinges. The wind kicks up under my feet, and I trip down two porch steps, landing heavily on my knees, ripping my jeans.
“Alex! Don’t leave! Please, Alex—pleeeeease,” she begs, the wind carrying her desperate pleas into her brand-new SUV as I throw myself inside.
I shove it into reverse and tear out of the driveway, racing down the narrow streets of Greenwich, Connecticut, headed for the one place that might still hold me together.
Gravity.
It only takesforty minutes to get into the city. Traffic’s light—almost nonexistent at this hour. My foot’s heavy on the gas as I tear down the highway, and honestly, it’s a miracle I don’t pass a single cop.
I screech to a stop outside the packed nightclub and toss the keys to the valet without thinking.
Why do I keep coming back here? Hell if I know.
There are a million bars in New York that’ll pour me something strong, and yet I end uphere.
Maybe it’s because I know it will royally piss off Elijah—since I refused to go in with him that one night.
Or maybe it’s because they never cut me off, the drinks hit hard, and the bartenders are hot and plentiful.
Or…maybe it’s because I’m hoping to eat strawberries again and look into those pretty blue eyes.
