Barbie Bitch (Rejects Paradise 3)

“Really? Could have fooled me.”

“O, come on. That’s not fair.”

“You’re shitting me, right? You just held a gun to the girl’s head and told her that you wouldn’t hesitate to kill her for what? Not barrelling out of your bedroom window before I could see her? Why her, Nic? You could literally have anyone you wanted, so why pick her?”

I see the answer in his eyes and he doesn’t bother responding, knowing damn well what I see. He wanted to make me hurt just like I make him hurt.

I let out a heavy breath. I guess a congratulations is in order because it fucking worked. He walks back to the door and grips the hardwood. “Come on,” he says, waving me in. “I suppose we have a few things to talk about.”

No shit.

I meet his eyes and warily step through to his apartment, feeling a wave of heartache take over me. “Should I call the boys to come over?” he questions, watching every tiny step I take across his apartment until I sit down on his couch.

I meet his eyes and shake my head. “Not yet,” I tell him. “You and I …”

“Yeah,” he says, not needing me to finish my train of thought. He knows we need this moment to talk alone just as much as I know it. He lets out a heavy sigh and moves across the room. “Come here,” he whispers, dropping down beside me and pulling me into his chest.

I curl into him as though this space was made solely for me and within moments, the raw emotions well up and overwhelm me. I try to hold the traitorous tears at bay but they spring from my eyes and slowly roll down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry, baby. You have no idea how sorry I am that I hurt you. I hate that I allowed you to see that side of me and I hate that what you saw forced you further into his arms. I’m so sorry, O. I wish I could take that back. I wish I could go back and force myself to stay here instead of dragging you out of that party. I was fucking drunk and I’ve never felt jealousy like that before. I wasn’t thinking … I fucking hurt you. Twice over the last two months I’ve left you fucking bruised and baby, it makes me so fucking sick to my stomach.”

I wipe my tears across his shirt and take a deep breath, desperately trying to calm myself. I can’t allow my emotions to get the best of me, otherwise, we’re going to sit here on this stupid couch all day long and get nowhere. “I don’t know who you are anymore,” I admit. “This new version of you is terrifying. You’ve never put your hands on me before and all of a sudden, you’re grabbing me every chance you get. The old Nic would have killed anyone who even thought about touching me like that, but you … I don’t know. You’re different now. I miss the old Nic. I miss my friend.”

“I’m still that guy,” he urges. “I swear to you, Ocean. I’m still him. I’m just going through some shit. Losing you to that world and then losing my father and taking over the Widows. It’s a lot, and I know my excuses aren’t going to validate how I treated you, but trust me, the boys have made sure that I’ve been paying for it. I know you’re not speaking to them right now either, but we’re all still in your fucking corner. They made sure I knew how fucking badly I fucked up.”

I dry my eyes and pull out of his arms, hating the way he watches me with such need. It’s as though my words hold the power to either make or break him and that power terrifies me. No one should hold that kind of power over another. “You really did fuck up, Nic,” I tell him, not holding back. “You showed me the real you. The dark one that you always promised to protect me from. In that warehouse … those men were forced to their knees and you brutally slit their throats. You looked right at me, Nic. You knew I was there. You should have sent me away, but you didn’t. You opened my world to your darkness, you brought me into that and when I look at you now, I see that man, I don’t see the gentle loving guy that would whisper sweet nothings in my ear and protect me from the world. I see that cold-blooded killer, the one who lies and is surrounded by darkness and misery.”

Nic lets out a heavy breath and leans forward onto his knees, staring ahead at the coffee table. “I don’t know how to make it right, Ocean.”