“Huh. Typical. I guess sluts like to stick together.”
The sound of skin hitting skin has me peeking out from behind Amity to find Midas on his ass with Havoc standing over him, his chest heaving like a raging bull. Midas rubs his jaw, staring at me with such hatred that it breaks what’s left of me.
“Please get me out of here,” I whisper, my body starting to shake uncontrollably.
Nevaeh walks over and takes the box from me as Amity wraps her arm around my shoulders, leading me away.
I pause when I realize Nevaeh has stormed back over to Midas, Havoc catching her before she can reach him.
“How fucking dare you! You know what? I’m sick to death of your sanctimonious bullshit.”
“She was sleeping around, and now she’s fucking pregnant?—”
“And? She’s not your old lady, Midas. She’s not good enough for you, remember? She was doing her job. Bunnies don’t get to stay unless they fuck the brothers. You know this. And still, you did nothing but set expectations she couldn’t reach. You set her up to fail. You’re pathetic. One day, you’re going to wake up and realize what you did, and by then, it will be too late. I hope regret keeps you warm at night, Midas.”
She looks at G and swallows back tears of her own. “Can you and Amity take Legs home?”
“Absolutely. I need to get away from the smell of bullshit anyway,” he snarls down at Midas, taking the box from Nevaeh before walking over to me.
I stand frozen as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Fuck him, Legs. You don’t need to listen to his bullshit. His issues are just that, his. You haven't done anything wrong; do you hear me? You’re absolutely doing the right thing, and I’m so fucking proud of you for not backing down.”
I nod rapidly, taking his words to heart, and let Amity lead me away.
I glance back at Nevaeh, showing her my gratitude while not hiding a fraction of my heartache, then I turn and follow Amity to the truck. I stand there numb as Amity opens the door and helps me inside. Reaching across me, she buckles me in before climbing in beside me.
She wraps her arm around me, tucking my head under her chin.
“Let go, Legs. I’ve got you.”
And I do. I shatter into a thousand pieces, knowing some I’ll never get back. When we pull away from the compound, I gaze out the window, half expecting to see them lying broken and bloody on the ground.
I swallow the urge to scream at how unfair it all is, but Midas isn’t the only one to blame here. I knew he was a mistake before I ever slept with him. But after one taste, I was hooked. The pain he caused offset the pleasure, twisting me up as I gave him countless chances to break me. And break me he did.
The worst part is, even knowing how it would all end, I’d make the same choices. He might have been my downfall, but he’ll always be my favorite mistake.
“Where do you want me to take you, Legs?” G asks softly from the driver’s seat.
I look up at him in the rearview mirror, blinking back tears––so fucking tired of crying over someone who doesn’t deserve it.
“Anywhere but here.”
Chapter Twelve
Legs
Six weekslater
I splash my face with cold water, then cup my hand and take a drink. I stare at myself in the mirror. I have dark circles under my eyes, my skin is pale and pasty, and my lips are dry and cracked. Anyone who says pregnant women glow must be fucking blind—unless they’re referring to the sweat dotting my forehead.
I pat my face dry with a paper towel and take a few deep breaths. My stomach’s still a bit queasy, but at least I feel better than before. I rummage in my bag for gum, making a mental note to start carrying toothpaste and a toothbrush. Popping a couple pieces of gum into my mouth, I try to straighten up my hair. When I find a damp piece that I may or may not have puked on, I sigh and admit defeat. Using the hair tie on my wrist, I pull it up into a messy bun.
Taking a couple more deep breaths to steady myself, I paste on a smile and head back out into the store. The look the woman behind the counter gives me tells me she knows exactly what Iwas doing. Why that makes her angry is beyond me. People get sick. There’s not much we can do about it.
“I understand people getting sick,” she starts, like she’s reading my mind. “However, most people have the decency to stay home.”
I blink at her but bite back the retort burning on my tongue, reminding myself I came here for a job—and pissing her off won’t help me get one.
“What I have isn’t contagious,” I say, keeping my practiced smile in place. “I’m just looking for a job. I heard there might be an opening?—”
