Rock Me Slower (Licks of Leather #3) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,75

over his and squeezed.

Ozzy nodded somberly. Sucking in a deep breath, he released my cheek and glanced at the tray of food. “We’d better start eating before it gets cold. I didn’t slave in a hot kitchen all morning for us to go hungry.”

What? No. Wait. I still had a million questions…still wanted to make amends and resurrect the love we’d shared.

Clearly, that’s not what Ozzy wanted.

Then what was the meaning of the conversation we’d just had?

Had he simply wanted some kind of closure? Wanted to clear the air so we could find some common ground before the tour? Okay, fine, but what was all the seduction about?

Oh, that’s right…nothing. Nothing but us feeling good.

Stomach twisting in knots, I looked at the spread of food Ozzy was loading onto his plate and bit back the bile rising in my throat.

Pressing a palm to my belly, I sent him a contrite smile. “It looks delicious, Oz, but I’m not quite ready to put anything in my system yet.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I-I appreciate you going to all the trouble of cooking such an amazing breakfast and all, but…”

“It’s not going to be very amazing if you barf it all up.” He flashed a crooked grin. “No worries. I’ll save you a plate in the fridge.”

“Thanks. I think I’m going to get my clothes on and go outside. Maybe some fresh air will do me good.”

“You want company?” he asked before popping a strip of bacon in his mouth.

“No. Stay here and enjoy breakfast,” I insisted as I climbed out of bed and started getting dressed. “Some alone time will do wonders.”

“I totally get that.”

When I left the bedroom, Ozzy had just finished draining my glass of OJ and was shoveling eggs in his mouth. I, on the other hand, was trying desperately not to revisit the commode on my knees.

Nerves singing, I hurried out the front door and started down the long, tree-lined driveway. The birds were singing like a choir and the sun felt heavenly beaming from the cloudless sky. Still, it felt strange that life around me was in pristine order while mine was a swirling mess of chaos. But then, the world wasn’t going to stop for my fucked-up heart.

Maybe it was time for me to find closure as well. My life had gone on without Ozzy before. It would go on without him again. Maybe we weren’t meant to be anything more than friends. There was a certain safety in the fact that no one knew me as well as he did. Nigel was a close second, but Ozzy knew me on a deeper, intimate level. No doubt, I’d spend the rest of my life aching for him, but hopefully one day, I might find a way to cope with it.

Thoughts still spinning, I absently kicked a pinecone along the pavement. From behind me, I heard a muffled yell. Turning, I saw Ozzy sprinting toward me, face pale and etched in panic. Everyone else was standing outside on the porch, wearing equally unsettling expressions. Something was wrong, very, very wrong.

I started running toward Oz, and though I reached him in under a minute, it felt like an eternity.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mia…” he panted on a mournful groan. “Oh, baby.”

“What? Talk to me, Oz. What’s happened?”

“It’s Nigel, honey. He’s…he’s dead.”

Everything stopped. Everything but my heart, which tripled in speed and roared in my ears so loudly I couldn’t hear the birds anymore. Couldn’t hear what Ozzy was saying.

A scream of denial tore from my throat as tears streamed down my face. Patches of black ate at my periphery, and my knees began to buckle. As I started tumbling to the ground, Ozzy’s steely arms banded around me before he lowered us both to the pavement. Dragging me onto his lap, Ozzy cradled me against his chest.

Heart exploding with a level of pain I’d never felt before, I clutched his shirt and wailed.

“I’m sorry, Mia,” Ozzy whispered, gently rocking me. “I didn’t fucking know how else to tell you.”

“No. No. No.” Pain and panic pressed in all around me. Sobbing hysterically, I tried clambering out of Ozzy’s arms, but he simply held me tighter.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

“It’s a hoax. It’s got to be a hoax. Oh, god… Please tell me Nigel isn’t dead,” I howled.

“I wish it was,” he replied sadly.

I buried my face in his shirt, while my bone-chilling shrieks filled the air. Ozzy continued to rock me, brushing the hair from my face and peppering kisses to my forehead. He