I’m lying in a heap on the bed, numb from endless sobbing and wracking pain. I don’t know how long I’ve been lying listening to my own blood rush through my head as my heart self-implodes inside my body. I’m nothing but a shell, a quiet empty shell of exhaustion and heartache, rumpled beyond recognition.

I lashed out, hit at him, and shoved him away with every ounce of strength I possessed, yet still he tried to cling to me.

My Jake, my body, and soul. Now the destroyer of everything that I was.

I told him not to touch me, to never touch me again, to leave, and to go away. I screamed and cried and fell to pieces on the floor at his feet. His words tumbling around me like noise that I couldn’t understand, so consumed by my grief. It’s only when I whimpered and begged that he leave me alone he finally listened; moving away so I could find my way to my feet, running into the solitude of this room … our room. His room. Shutting him out and locking him away. I can’t bare for him to be near me, to touch me, or look at me anymore.

What we are is lost; his betrayal sealed our fate and my world has been ripped apart with such devastation. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again. All I can think about, is his mouth against hers, over and over, and it rips through my heart. Kissing the mouth of the one woman in the world I hate beyond compare. He has no clue of the depth and damage cheating with her has done. He has no idea how deep his betrayal has wounded me.

He kissed someone else. Not just anyone else, but her, the object of all my hatred and pain for the last few months.

The woman who possessed his heart once upon a time, the only other woman who has been loved by him, and now carries his child.

Marissa Hartley.

How can I ever get beyond this or believe that his feelings for her are as clear cut as I thought?

Her name is like a dagger in my chest, a wound so unbearable burning and searing, making sure I never recover from the fatal blow.

Why, Jake? … Why? Because you were so sure of my readiness to betray you? Fueled by insecurity because of my refusal to start a home with you or answer your proposal?

Fueled by my stupidity in making you believe I would betray you so readily over a fight.

fragile that something this stupid has ripped us in two?

my pulse stops. His closeness still affecting me, even at a distance, my body feels

I slide onto my side to blot him out, covering my ears, curling into a ball with a fresh wave of unbearable aching inside of me, silent tears pouring down my

so far away from myself, I fear I’ll never find my way back. I close my eyes tight, screwing them hard, willing him to leave. My voice wouldn’t come even if

creaks with the pressure of human weight, a noise of something heavy and soft sliding down

Emma … I’m going insane out here.” The sadness in his tone makes me ache. He sounds as broken as I feel. His normally low husky tone is strained and hoarse; emotion breaking with every

anymore. I need to get up, take everything I

with a sob. I can’t begin to think about leaving him, not yet, not while my

maybe cradling his head, as broken and as

of a vision into my head of him and her, him touching her, his focus on her eyes, kissing her. It slices

has he

enough for him to hear me. My voice is weak and fragile, a ghost of

swear. I’ll keep my distance. I just need to see you … look at you.” He begs. He shifts toward the door to strain for my response and it shatters me all the more.

way. He’s my strong, domineering Carrero, always so

this sad quiet version of him, begging me, sitting slumped outside, and seeking permission to enter a room in his

ago, the one who never betrayed me and left me this way. The Jake who would move mountains to

quietly, tears falling freely beyond my control. I can barely lift my head, so drained of life I am beyond the point of moving. Fatigue is wracking every limb with emotional exhaustion. I don’t know what time

tell me I can open the door and I will,” his voice is strained, he’s waiting and hoping I won’t hold him out while still

as much as I desperately want to, he’s the one causing me paralyzing agony but is also the only person in the world who has a hope in hell of helping me. That’s my torture. My healer is also my tormentor. When

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