This Cruel Love

“She gets under your skin, doesn’t she? Makes you want to tear your hair out one minute and tear her clothes off the next. You know that means she’s the one, don’t you? That’s something you can’t let walk away, Jax.”

I spun round to face him. “You know what? I have no plan. I have no idea why she’d even want to stay with me after tonight. What am I supposed to do? Blackmail her some more? You think she’s gonna see me as a catch? The guy who threatened her and her boyfriend. The one who’s forced her into all this? I’m the bad guy and you know what? I’m fine with that. It makes life easy.”

“What’s so fun about easy? Where’s the challenge in that? Come on, man, you love a challenge. Isn’t she the ultimate?” He really wouldn’t stop goading me.

“Why are you pushing me? What’s your problem? Do you want her? Is that what this is all about? Are you trying to get me to make her stay so you can have a pop?”

His nostrils flared in fury and he stabbed his finger into my chest as he spoke. “You’re an asshole, you know that? No, I’m not interested in her in that way. I care about her. I want to see her happy. Hell, I’m even rooting for you too, you loser. Would a bit of happiness in your life really be so bad?”

I wasn’t stupid. Men like me didn’t get the whole happily ever after, marriage and family thing. That’d never been on the cards for me. Why Cill was pushing so hard like this was just annoying as fuck, and it was really starting to piss me off. A girl like Ryley would never choose to be with a man like me, not for long anyway. What did I have to offer, other than a few clubs and a truck load of emotional baggage? No. I was better off alone, keeping my demons to myself. It worked for me before, it’d work again.

“Enough. I don’t want to hear anymore.”

I turned to leave and he gave me his last parting shot.

“You’re letting the best thing that ever happened to you walk away. You’re an idiot.”

Maybe so, but I was an idiot with my heart and self-respect still intact, almost.

My eyes were stinging from all the dumb-ass crying I’d been doing for most of the night. I woke up pissed at myself for losing so many tears over what was clearly the biggest douchebag to ever walk the planet. He’d certainly pulled the wool over my eyes. Seven years I’d devoted to him. What a total waste of my time. I knew I’d have plenty more nights where all I wanted to do was cry and wallow in my own pity party. But I also tried to remind myself that I was worth more. Thank God I’d found out now, and not after the wedding. Liam had done me a favour.

Daisy had been beyond sweet to put me up for the night, and sit listening to my drunken, crazy ranting and bawling into the small hours. She told me she’d always feared Justin was after my grandma’s inheritance money that’d come to me when I was twenty-five, but she hoped and prayed she was wrong. She felt like a shit friend for not warning me, but I reminded her that I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway. I didn’t blame her. I tried not to blame myself, but that one was harder to do.

As for Justin? I never wanted to see or speak to him again. Daisy’s mum and dad had already offered to pick up my things from his apartment; they were the nicest people. I guessed Jackson wouldn’t be paying for any more rehab, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near Justin’s place when he did come home. I’d have to face him one day, but that day wasn’t going to be any time soon.

Daisy dropped me off outside Jackson’s around noon. She wanted to come up and help me pack up my stuff, but I didn’t want to pull her into whatever drama was bound to happen when I got up there. I wanted to keep my real life separate from the fucked up fakeness that I’d been drawn into because of Justin, the gutter rat. The nickname sure did suit him now, that was for sure.

I pushed through the front door to be greeted by Jackson standing in the middle of the living area, gulping down a bottle of water and dressed in grey sweats and a tight white vest. He’d obviously just worked out judging from the sweat marks on his clothes. His face had beads of sweat, and his hair was slicked back from his forehead. I couldn’t stop myself from gawping at him. Even after a workout, he looked ridiculously hot. What was it with my subconscious checking him out just lately? First the whole jeans shopping trip, and now here, today. I was losing the plot.

“You okay?” He stood still, staring at me with those intense grey eyes of his, and I couldn’t help but notice that he appeared nervous or on edge.

“I will be, once I’ve moved on and got my life back,” I snapped.

How long that’d take, I had no idea. How long does it take to get over a seven-year relationship that you gave your all to?

“I take it our road trip to the rehab centre today is off then?”

His weak attempt at humour was awkward and ill-timed.

“I’m sorry, bad joke. Humour isn’t my strong point.” He grimaced.

“Neither is compassion,” I bit back.

I strode off to the bedroom to make a start on collecting my things. I wheeled my suitcase out from the bottom of the wardrobe, and started throwing things in without any thought to tidiness or organisation.

“Where are you gonna go?”

Jackson was leaning up against the open door frame, arms crossed over his chest, and making a really commendable effort to look concerned about me.

“What do you care?”

“I don’t want to see you out on the streets. I do care.”

I huffed and rolled my eyes, not giving a damn that I looked and sounded like the stroppy teenager he’d previously accused me of being.

“I’m not your concern. You don’t need to know where I go or what I do.”

He stepped into my room, as if he wanted to show me how serious he was.