Tears prick my eyes and my hands shake, and I just sit there, gaping at a man I feel like I don’t even know anymore.
“I’m sorry, babe,” he continues, but it’s the furthest thing from an apology. There isn’t an ounce of anything but emotionless asshole within those words. “I can’t go along with acting like this is more than it is. It’s not my style. Jude Winslow will never be attached to anybody.”
I want to sob. I want to scream. And I want him to fucking leave. More than that, I need him to leave for my own sanity and self-preservation.
“You’re right,” I say, and my voice is harsh as a whip. “We were just fun, Jude. Just a bunch of fucking fun, like you said. Nothing else. Nothing more. And you’ll never be attached to me because I deserve a hell of a lot better than someone like you. So, you can leave now. Pretty sure we’re done here.”
Those stupid tears start to stream down my cheeks in uncontrollable waves, and Jude’s eyes flash with a sense of sadness, like he suddenly grew a conscience and feels bad for hurting me or something. And he steps toward me with an outstretched hand in a pathetic attempt to provide comfort for the pain he just created.
“Don’t touch me!” I snap and abruptly shift my body so his fingers can’t make contact with my skin.
“Sophie,” he starts to say, and the way he says my name reminds me too much of the Jude I thought I knew.
“No. Get out.”
His eyes go wide with shock and other things I don’t care about, but he doesn’t move from his spot beside my bed.
“Get out!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Leave! Now!”
And only then does he listen to me.
Right out of my bedroom and out of my apartment and out of my life, Jude leaves.
Jude
I struggle to pull my jeans up my legs and zip them with my hand while simultaneously trying to shove my feet into my boots. I stumble more than a few times and almost fall face first on the hardwood floor right outside of Sophie’s apartment door, but I quickly put a hand to the wall and steady myself.
Son of a bitch.
Just as I start the process of buttoning up my shirt, a middle-aged woman in a pair of plaid pajamas with a little white dog tucked in the crook of her arm steps off the elevator. She pauses mid-step as the doors shut behind her, her brow furrowing at my current display of rushed, bumbling hands and disheveled attire.
Normally, I’d offer something, anything, to put her at ease, to make her smile, to give her relief that I’m not a psycho inside her building, but my mind might as well be on another planet with the way it can’t seem to concentrate on anything but snapshots of Sophie’s tearstained cheeks and shaking hands.
And all I can hear is the pain that was in her voice when she told me to leave.
God, what did I just do?
You broke her heart. That’s what you did.
I yank my hands away from the buttons of my shirt when my fingers can’t seem to manage the simple task and scrub a frustrated hand down my face.
“Fuck,” I mutter harshly, and it’s only then that I note the lady in the pajamas scurries away, moving down the hallway and to her apartment as quickly as her slippers can take her.
Way to go, Jude. You’re really hitting it out of the park tonight.
Another visual of Sophie sits prominently behind my eyes, and I grimace as I recall the words I said to her. The way she looked when I told her we were just fun. Nothing else. Nothing more.
You mean, the way you lied to her.
“Goddammit.”
I turn to face her door, my hand lifted in the air, prepared to rap against the wood, but I pause halfway and shove that hand back into my pocket.
There is absolutely nothing I can say to her that will fix this.
That realization feels impossible to grasp, and the idea of walking away from her feels even harder, but I don’t have any other choice. I can’t give her what she wants. What she deserves.
I’m not the guy you settle down with. Never have been and I vowed that I never will be.
It’s the only way I know.
Love and heartbreak and all that bullshit would destroy me from the inside out. I’ve seen it do those things to too many people I love. I’ve seen the destruction. The aftermath. And I don’t want any part of it. Not for me, and not for Sophie either.
Too bad you’ve already done that not just to her, but to you, too.
I shake my head at myself, pushing the uncomfortable thoughts as far away as I possibly can, and I turn on my heel.