Falling Away (Fall Away #3)

The early-morning rain set in fast, and I just stared, sitting on the back porch with my arms resting on my knees.

The earbuds still sat in my ears, Hinder’s “Better Than Me” poetically fucking with my head as I squeezed the damp piece of paper in my fist.

Holding her words tight. Holding all I had left of her.

I love him, and I don’t want to. He’s not ready.

I carried the journal page everywhere with me.

It had been four days. Four days and nine hours since she’d talked to me or looked at me or been in the same room with me, and every day that passed my stomach got more and more hollow and my muscles got weaker. I reveled in it. I wanted to suffer. I wanted the pain.

I was miserable without her.

School was the only place where I saw her, but she never looked my way. She sat in her classroom, working with her students and smiling, and then she’d stick in her earbuds and quietly walk home—all the way to Madoc’s house. I hadn’t seen her once over the weekend, and I hadn’t checked on her.

I let my head fall, my stomach groaning with hunger.

I’d cut my run short this morning because I had no fucking energy. No energy because I had no appetite. No appetite because I was scum.

I ran my hand over the top of my head, pushing back the drenched hair and licking the rain from my lips.

“What are you doing?”

I lifted my head at Jared’s voice, hooding my tired eyes. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, we need to talk about our father,” he pressed. “Have you been able to find him?”

Everything was tired, including my voice, as I stood up and walked toward him to the house.

“I really don’t give a fuck about him right now,” I said, exhausted.

“Jesus,” he breathed out, grabbing my jaw to look at me, but I jerked out of his grasp. “When was the last time you fucking slept?”

I pushed past him and stepped into the kitchen, going for the refrigerator.

“Answer me,” he pressed.

“Just leave me alone, Jared.” I spoke calmly, but it was a warning.

He tossed his keys on the table and folded his arms over his wide chest. “I’ve left you alone for four days, because Tate told me to stay out of your business, but look at you.” His eyes turned angry as he gestured at me. “You’re pale. Your cheeks are sunken in. What the hell?”

The ache sitting in the middle of my brain spread down my neck, and I couldn’t look at him.

“Why did you fucking cheat on her?” he asked me, sounding as if I’d made the dumbest mistake of my life.

I turned around and leaned against the sink. “I didn’t.” I shifted my eyes away from him. “I just wanted her gone.”

The girl at the party was someone I’d hooked up with before, but prior to Juliet, I hadn’t been with anyone in over a month. I didn’t sleep around, and I hadn’t been with anyone since her, either.

He stood there, silent, probably waiting for me to explain further, but gave up.

“I’m not K.C.’s—Juliet’s, I mean—biggest fan,” he said, taking a step forward, “but she was good to you, Jax. I don’t understand this.”

“You don’t need to,” I mumbled. “It’s not your business. She just deserves better, is all.”

“There is no better. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He sounded defensive. “She was lucky to have you.”

“No.” I shook my head. “She wasn’t. I’d never be good enough for her. She was falling in love, and I …” I swallowed. “I didn’t want her hurt worse. It was time to move on.”

I crossed my arms over my bare chest, feeling Jared’s eyes studying me. He was doing that more and more lately. Taking time to process and react. But when I looked up, I didn’t like what I saw in his eyes.

Confusion and disappointment.

“Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t look at me like that.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a condescending smile. “You always act so smooth, Jax, like you’ve got life figured out and you’ve got everyone else’s number. You don’t even have yourself straight.” He shook his head at me. “It took me a long time to see it, but you really have no idea what the fuck you’re doing, do you, Jax?”

My fists clenched, tucked under my biceps. “Don’t,” I bit out, shaking my head back at him.

He was wrong. Everything was going to be in order again. Neat. Organized. Clean.

He stepped forward, inching closer and taunting me. “You make money working for Fallon’s father, you exchange favors with the cops, and you think you can sit up there in that office of yours playing God with everyone else under your thumb, because when it comes to you”—he darted his head out, getting in my face—“and your life, you need to avoid everything to control anything.”

He crowded me, his eyes bearing down. “You can boast your power over everyone else,” he continued, “but even you don’t buy it. You think about where you came from and everything that happened to you, and you think that you don’t deserve to have want you want. You think she’ll end up being ashamed of you. Down deep, you think you’re shit.”

I shot up and scowled down at him.

“At least I cut her loose before it was too late,” I growled, locking eyes with him. “Someday Tate will see through you. Ten years from now when you’re living in the suburbs in your two-story Colonial with hardwood floors and crown molding, and you’re trying to shuffle the kids into the SUV so you’re not late for another fucking birthday party …” I nodded. “She’ll see it.”