FOR THE FIRST time in my life, I did what I wanted—acted on my desires. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t weigh my options. I didn’t worry about the consequences.
And it did nothing but fuck with my head even more.
Disgust swirled in my gut making it so that I couldn’t even look at Jude. Turning away from him, stopping that kiss, those were the last things I wanted to do, but shutting up the voices in my head was more difficult than I thought.
“Micah,” he said softly, dropping his hand to my shoulder. “You’re not a fuckup. I don’t know—”
Anger boiled inside my chest. “That’s just it. You don’t know anything,” I yelled.
“Well, whose fucking fault is that?” The volume of his voice matched mine, making me take a step back. I’d never known him to yell, always being the quiet and calm one.
“Mine,” I spat. “It’s all my fault.” Everything. All of it. But that was a story for later.
Spinning me around to face him, his fingers bit into my arm. “What’s your fault? Huh? Tell me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“So make me,” he challenged, his eyes never wavering from mine.
“That’s a long cry from ‘leave me the fuck alone,’” I seethed, letting my decade-old grudge bubble to the surface.
Jude stepped back, visibly wounded by my words. Good. It was about time he felt like I did. “You remember that?” he whispered, enraging my blood even more.
“Not even a fucking war, all the way on the other side of the world could ever erase those words from my memory.”
“Micah, I . . . that was . . . I never meant,” he stammered.
Stepping out of his reach, I dropped my hand to the knob on the sliding glass door. “I never should have come here.” Sarge trailed behind me, knowing I was in no mood to be without him. Sitting in one of the big chairs surrounding the fire pit, I didn’t know what thought to pay attention to first.
Lying to my wife—my god, I had a fucking wife and a kid who I just walked away from.
Wanting Jude—just like I had for the last ten years.
Feeling as if life was no longer worth living.
That last one was suddenly outweighing the other two, and no matter how often I’d visited this pit of despair, I promised myself I would never move there.
But there I was. Unpacked and all fucking cozy.
By the time Sarge had done his business, I’d made up my mind. I was leaving. Coming here was a huge mistake. Hell, I didn’t even know what I had hoped would happen. But this, barely being able to talk to Jude without hating him for all the shit he did to me, was not what I had expected at all. So while there was still part of me that knew killing myself wasn’t the answer, I also knew that staying wasn’t going to solve my problems either.
Squatting down in front of Sarge, I ran my hand over his head, scratching behind his ears. “We’re going home, boy. I’m not entirely sure where that is, but we’re going there.” Reenergized by the kindness in his eyes, I stood, took a deep breath, and resolved myself to saying goodbye to Jude once and for all.
A deathly silence greeted me when I stepped back inside. Thankful for Jude’s sudden absence, I quickly threw my shit into my bag. I’d only been here a day, so it wasn’t like there was much—a pair of gym shorts from last night, my cell phone, car keys, and a spare pair of sneakers. I left in such a hurry, it was all I thought to take with me. My life currently fit into a gym bag.
Fucking pathetic.
With Sarge’s bowl half emptied, I stood at the kitchen sink, pouring out the rest of the water. “What are you doing?” Jude’s voice fell on my back.
“Leaving. I told you I never—”
Before I could finish my sentence, he was behind me, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around to face him. “Like hell you are.” His voice was calm and even. He’d obviously already made my decision for me.
“No,” I gritted back. Twisting out of his grip, I knocked one of his arms from my shoulder. I hated that my other arm was pretty much useless to defend myself. “I don’t—”
“Don’t what?” he challenged, wrapping his strong fingers around my wrist, keeping it locked against the wall at my side. His jaw clenched, and I hated that my eyes automatically traveled down his neck, roaming over every sexy fucking inch of his skin. And damn him, he saw me do it. His eyes sparkled with delight as he continued, “You don’t want to stay here? Couch not comfy enough for you?” There was no mistaking the thick coat of sarcasm dripping from his words. Even though there wasn’t any space left between us, he took another step toward me, letting his body press up against mine.
And I fought the fucking urge to melt into him.
