Flawed Heart: House Of Obsidian - Bella Jewel Page 0,13
I need to run, and process this. I can’t do it right now; I’m not ready. I thought I was, but I’m not.
“Nice catch there, Max,” a tall, handsome man says when we get to the top of the stairs. “Better than the last one you took home.”
My body stiffens and his words hit me, so hard I can’t breathe. I bend forward and start gasping for air. When did I think I was ready for this kind of emotion? The thought of Max with another woman, his mouth on hers, his body inside hers, makes a pain I never thought I’d feel again rip through my chest.
“Fuck off, Josh,” Max roars.
“Jesus, dude, I was only joking.”
Fury takes over my pain, and the mix becomes a combination that’s consuming. I straighten and slam my elbow backwards, hitting Max in the stomach. He grunts and I make a run for it. I pump my legs as hard as I can, getting to the top of the stairs and taking a sharp left. I skirt around tables, knock over chairs, shove into people and trip a few times, but I manage to make it outside. Once there, I slip around to a dark side of the club and press my back against the brick wall.
With trembling fingers, I pull out my phone and start frantically looking for the number to call a cab. The phone is snatched from my hand before I even get the chance to dial anything. I look up to see Max staring down at me, panting with fury and God knows what else. “You’re not running again. Not until I’ve had the chance to fuckin’ talk to you.”
“No.” I gasp, pushing on his chest, trying to fight my tears. “I’m not ready for this, Max.”
“You’re not getting a choice,” he says, grabbing my wrists as if I’m not trying to fight him off. He brings them together in one of his massive hands and shoves them above my head. I thrash from side to side, but he does something that has my entire body going still. He brings his forehead down and presses it against mine.
I stop breathing.
He used to do this to me so often; it was his way of showing affection. When we were younger and we fought, he’d stop mid conversation and press his forehead to mine, and without fail, it would calm me. Over the years, it became more passionate than a kiss, more loving than words. It was our thing.
“Max,” I croak, my voice trembling.
“Blue Belle.”
I make a strangled sound, but I can’t pull back. I want to but I can’t. His skin is so warm, and this comfort is one I’ve wanted for what feels like an age. I’ve gone to bed alone and woken up alone for so long I can’t remember what comfort feels like. At least, I didn’t until this very second.
“You need to let me go,” I manage in a quiet, broken voice.
“I won’t.”
“Please,” I beg, trying not to enjoy the feeling of his warm breath against my mouth.
I move my eyes up to look into his, and I struggle to see the man I fell in love with. If it wasn’t for this simple gesture of love he’s showing me right now, I would be sure a stranger was standing over me.
“What happened to you?” I ask, before thinking.
He flinches. “I lost the best thing I had.”
I shake my head from side to side, trying to pull back. “No, you can’t do that. You can’t, Max. You pushed me away. You said . . .”
His words from that night haunt me; they have wedged into my soul, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t move them.
“I know what I said, Ana,” he rasps. “I didn’t mean it.”
“No!” I shout, jerking my hands. “You don’t get to do this, do you hear me? You don’t get to say you didn’t mean to rip my heart out!”
“Things were fuckin’ bad, Blue Belle. I wasn’t the same person.”
“No?” I cry. “You think I didn’t notice that? You think I didn’t feel the bitter, empty loneliness when you pushed me away, when you slept in different beds, when you started drinking and shut me out? You think I didn’t figure out you weren’t the same fucking person?”
I’m crying now. I can’t stop it. Big, fat, ugly tears roll down my cheeks. Max makes a pained, throaty sound and steps back, letting my hands go. “Baby . . .”
“Don’t!” I