His face was like granite. She couldn’t read it.
She was faltering; that was the problem. She’d come into the room to get dressed all angry and filled with rage and now she felt unsure. She was trying to get a little certainty from the one person she trusted the most.
“I just feel like... like maybe I’m not... I always felt pretty secure. Because Asher and I were solid. I was okay with us being separate because I trusted him. And I was wrong to do that. I just... I’m trying to figure out which way I was wrong. Does that make sense? Because either there’s something wrong with me and it’s entirely excusable that he had to have sex with somebody else because my boobs are only okay in a generic sort of way. Or there is something wrong with me because there was always something wrong with him and I didn’t see it in spite of the fact that I was raised with parents who really weren’t great. And it’s almost like the lesson wasn’t good enough.”
Justice sighed heavily. “It wasn’t you. Literally no matter what, it wasn’t you. You trusted him. And honestly, I thought he was a decent guy. And I’m not very giving. Some people never think about why they do things.”
“Who? I think about why I do things all the time. It is literally the only way that I can figure out how to navigate the world. It’s the only way that I can makethings make sense, and the only way that I can make sure that I don’t run around doing the wrong things the way my parents do.” She shook her head. “I mean, I get that people like them maybe don’t think about their actions...”
“No,” he said. “A lot of people don’t. Rue, do you really think I asked myself why I want to go out and drink? Do you think I ask myself why I like anonymous hookups? I just do.”
“It’s obviously childhood trauma,” she said.
“We’re all doing things because of childhood trauma, there’s nothing special about that. That’s the history of the world. I just mean I don’t sit around asking myself deep questions about it. And I bet you Asher didn’t either. It felt good. So he did it. And how you look in a dress has nothing to do with it.”
There was an intensity in his eyes that pushed her forward, closer to an edge she knew she needed to jump off.
Because this moment in time wouldn’t last. This break from her actual life. She would have to figure out her house; she would have to go back to work. She would have to contend with herself. Polar plunges and trail rides and even nights out wouldn’t be enough.
But it was all tangling her up right now. Making her feel tense even around Justice.
The only solution was to jump. Like she was leaping off the cliff to escape a fire that was burning out of control.
A fire she didn’t set, but one she had to deal with all the same.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go out. Let’s go just... forgetabout all this for a while. Because you know what, being good hasn’t gotten me anything. I’m kind of sick of it. You’re right. I need to do something else.”
“Yeah,” he said, “sure.”
They got into the truck, and he turned the engine over. “I’ll be your designated driver tonight.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can... We could get a car service or something.”
“No. Somebody has to... It’s good. It’s fine.”
He didn’t seem fine.
But she didn’t feel fine. She felt reckless. She felt very unlike herself.
Jumping had been what she needed to do.
For the first time in her memory she didn’t know where the night was going to take her.
Chapter Thirteen
Justice felt like he’d been set upon by a pack of feral dogs, and no amount of running put him ahead of them. The sight of Rue in the dress had been something that he wasn’t prepared for. He was even less prepared for her to ask him if he’d beenlooking.
He’d been looking since she’d shown up to the polar plunge in that bikini.
He’d been looking since he’d seen her in the wedding dress for the first time.
He’d been looking for longer than he’d ever wanted to admit, keeping himself leashed whenever he could. Because she wasRue.
She was pure and wonderful and his in a way no one else had ever been.
And her body was damned glorious.
It felt like an actual sin to admit to himself that he had looked at his best friend’s rack, and thought it was the best he’d ever seen.
