Tangled (The Tangled Series)(50)

Why are you looking at me like I’m the bastard? I gave Kate everything I have, everything I’m capable of. And she kicked me in the f*cking teeth with it. I opened up my soul to her—and I know how pussified that sounds. But it’s true. So don’t look at me like I’m the bad guy, because—for once—I’m not.

I loved her. God, I f*cking love her. And right now, it’s killing me. I feel like one of those patients on ER who get their chests cracked open with a freaking rib spreader.

With the phone still on my ear, I finally look up at Kate. And for a second, I can’t draw a breath. I thought she’d be pissed, maybe disappointed that I tossed her to the curb first. But that’s not how she looks.

Have you ever seen someone get hit?

I have. Matthew, in our younger years. And Jack, on occasion, hasn’t moved fast enough after coming on too strong to the wrong woman. When they got smacked—there was this expression. It only lasted a few seconds. Their whole face just went white…and blank. I guess it’s shock, like they can’t believe what just happened actually happened to them.

That’s what Kate looks like.

Like I slapped her across the face.

You think I should feel guilty about that? You want me to be sorry? Well too f*cking bad. I can’t. I won’t. She made her decision. She made her choice.

Now she can choke on it.

I cover the mouthpiece of the phone. “Sorry, Kate, I have to take this. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

She blinks twice. Then turns and walks out of my office without a word.





Chapter 18

AFTER KATE LEAVES, things are…hazy. Isn’t that how they always describe it? Victims of some catastrophic train wreck? That, in the moments after, it’s all unclear. Unreal.

I tell Erin I’m sick. Her smile is sad and pitying. Before I get in the elevator, I look back at Kate’s office, hoping to see her again. Just to torment myself.

But her door is closed.





It’s raining outside. A winter downpour. The kind that soaks your clothes and chills you from the inside out. It doesn’t bother me.

I walk back to my apartment, numb and dazed. Like a zombie from some low-budget horror film who doesn’t react, even when he cuts his own foot off with a chainsaw.

But when I make it through the door—that’s when my senses kick back in. When I start to feel again. And I feel Kate.

Everywhere.

I can still see her eyes, heavy lidded with heat. I hear her whisper in my ear as I fall on the bed. Her scent covers my pillow. And I just can’t get past the fact that she was right here a few hours ago. And I could touch her and look at her and kiss her.

And now I…can’t.

It’s like when someone dies. And you can’t believe they’re really gone because you just ran into them yesterday. They were right there with you, alive and real. And that’s the memory you hold on to—the moment you mourn the most.

Because it was the last.





When did it happen?

That’s what I can’t figure out. When did Kate become so important to me that I can’t function without her? Was it when I saw her crying in her office? Or the first time I kissed her in mine? Maybe it happened when Anderson insulted her, and I wanted to kick his ass for it. Was it that first night at the bar? The first time I looked into those endless brown eyes and knew I had to have her?

Or was it here? In my apartment? In any one of the hundred times I touched her…

God, why didn’t I see it sooner.

All those weeks—all those months—wasted. All those women I f*cked, whose faces I can’t even remember. All the times I pissed her off, when I could have been making her smile. All those days I could have been loving her. And getting her to love me.

Gone.

Women fall in love quicker than men. Easier and more often. But when guys fall? We go down harder. And when things go bad? When it’s not us who ends it? We don’t get to walk away.

We crawl.





I shouldn’t have said those things. In my office. Kate didn’t deserve that. It’s not her fault she doesn’t want what I want. That she doesn’t feel what I feel.

Christ, this is awful. Just f*cking kill me.

Where’s a stray bullet from a random drive-by shooting when you need one?

Have you ever felt like this? Have you ever held something that meant…everything to you? Maybe you caught a home run ball as it flew over the fence? Or looked at a picture of yourself from some sweet, unforgettable time? Maybe your mother gave you a ring that belonged to your grandma’s grandmother? Whatever it is—you look at it and swear you’ll keep it forever. Because it’s that special. Precious.

Irreplaceable.

And then one day—you don’t know how or when it happened—you realize it’s gone.

Lost.

And you ache for it. You’d give anything to find it again. To have it back with you, where it was always supposed to be.





I curl myself around the pillow. I don’t know how long I stay there like that, but the next time I open my eyes and look out the window, it’s dark. What do you think they’re doing right now? Celebrating probably. Going out. Or maybe staying in.

I stare at the ceiling. Yes, those are tears. Liquid regret.