THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,105

that.

What I don’t like is the tagged photos of her out at the bar with the “girls” from the night before. Her tight, navy blue dress is too short and she looks too stunning to be out without me. Her brown, wavy hair is loose, falling over her shoulders and down her back. Her blue eyes are a little glassy and she has a different drink in her hand in every picture that’s posted. She gets drunker as I continue clicking. The other women are dressed similarly and are all inebriated, but they aren’t mine. I don’t care who looks at them. That’s when I get to the last photo. It’s a group shot.

“Fuck!” I roar. It’s him…the fucking nightmare that will never leave me alone. John Nash. His arm is draped around Windsor’s shoulder like it’s always been there, like it belongs there. I see red. No, I see blood red. “Fuck!” I scream again. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I’m overreacting. I know it, but I can’t control my impulses. She doesn’t make me crazy; what I feel about Windsor makes me fucking crazy.

Through my bloodlust I’m aware Stone is beside me looking at the photo with narrowed eyes. “It’s probably not what you think,” he explains.

I shake my head. Calming down isn’t going to happen right now. I scrutinize the photo further. The arm isn’t the biggest thing. Windsor is looking sideways at Nash who is looking directly at the camera—a huge smirk on his asshole wiped face. She’s smiling…or laughing? Looking at him. It’s a look that is reserved for me…the person she’s in love with except, fuck, there she is looking at him like he’s God’s fucking gift.

Stone bends down to look more closely and says, “I’m sure they are drunker than shit. Look at Morg. Her hair is flat…Windsor probably doesn’t even remember taking this picture.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? What if he took her home? If he fucked her, I’ll kill him, Stone. So help me God I will annihilate everything he’s ever touched. She’s mine now. She’s fucking mine,” I growl. I know I sound like a raging, possessive asshole, but there is no controlling it now. I look up at Stone. He looks scared as shit as he gazes back at me. I don’t see that look on his face very often and when I do, it isn’t directed at me.

“Get your head straight, Mavvy. It’s a photo. She loves you,” he says, trying to bring me back down to Earth. “Send her a message or call her if you’re so worried. She’ll explain it. That’s the thing with Facebook. Shit always looks one way when it’s usually the opposite.”

He’s right. I’ve been able to gather that much during the brief time I’ve had an account. I take a deep breath and I pull up my messages after studying the offending picture for a few more beats. I tap out a message asking how her night out was and I let her know I’m thinking about her. And that I love her.

I feel better for a moment. Stone puts his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll have to deal with the jealousy, man. They’re out there in the world and we’re here with the pause button jammed down. It’s part of it. If you don’t have trust, you don’t have anything.”

I suck in another breath, determined to calm my racing heart. Control. I need to be in control. I have a job to do—a large, very precarious important job to do. Getting insane over Windsor’s life isn’t a luxury I have. Especially now. Fuck. I’m mad I let a photo affect me.

“I just hate that asshole, Stone. I hate him and what he did to her. It’s why she’s so scared of me…of her feelings and yet look,” I say pointing to the image one more time. “She gives him the time of day. She hangs out with him and he obviously makes her laugh—or happy. It’s twisted and I can’t tell her that. I let her do what she thinks she needs to do, but that’s not healthy is it?” I ask, curiously. “She won’t tell me she loves me and she looks at him like that!” I sound like a whiny fucking child. Luckily, Steve took my first outburst as his cue to leave.

“What’s not healthy is your fuckin’ attachment to this girl, Mav. It’s making you act crazy. There is