I laughed. Full, broken, feral.
“Baby, you couldn’t even if you tried” I hissed.
“f*****g bastard”
Click.
I ended the call.
And I swear to God, if my p***y had vocal cords, she would’ve applauded.
~~~
The kitchen was way too bright for someone who got absolutely wrecked less than twelve hours ago.
I sat at the island with my legs tightly crossed, hoodie pulled all the way down to my knees like it could cover the truth seeping out of my pores.
I had one hand wrapped around my glass of juice, the other half-heartedly holding a slice of bread I hadn’t bitten into yet because my throat still felt like I’d swallowed a ghost. A big one. With tattoos. And a goddamn six-pack.
Tasha was standing by the stove, flipping eggs like she didn’t know my body was currently recovering from a full
