Then You Happened by K. Bromberg

Author:K. Bromberg [Bromberg, K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JKB Publishing, LLC
Published: 2020-02-02T18:30:00+00:00

20

JACK

Look at me, Tate.

I grunt as I punish myself. One pull-up after another. The damn refrain a punishing cadence I keep tempo to.

Look at me.

The words that filled my mind with each grind into Tate’s body. The same one I repeated with each pull out.

Look. At. Me.

Then all thoughts were lost to the orgasm that tore through me, wave by obliterating wave.

But I think of the words now, of my need for her to see me, watch me, and connect with me. Sure, she moaned my name, but she wouldn’t fucking meet my eyes. I hate that I wonder if her eyes were closed because she was thinking of Fletcher as I was fucking her when all I wanted was for her to be thinking of me.

My hands are sore. The burn in my arms the only release as I repeat the movement. Over and over.

“Wait. You’re leaving?” The look in her eyes matched the tone in her voice—confused, uncertain . . . rejected.

I won’t be a mistake.

Those were the words that ran through my head but were so very different from the ones that I said to her. “It’s probably best this way, Tate.” A tight smile, a soft kiss on her lips, and then a step back when all I wanted to do was dive back in again. “We blurred a lot of lines tonight. You need to make sure you’re still okay with this. With what just happened.” Another brush of lips before I slid my hand over her hip and let it come to a rest on her ass. “Sleep in tomorrow. You might have a hell of a headache from the wine anyway.”

My shoulders ache, but I force myself to remember why I walked away. Of why I had to. Of what the fuck I just did.

But the ache doesn’t do shit to erase the hurt that was in her eyes or the war that waged over her features as she kissed me one last time and then closed the door.

My chest burns. My breath is harder to catch. My heart is pounding in my ears.

“Jack. Son. I need you to come home. There are some things I need to tell you. About your sister and your brother.”

That first phone call my Dad made to me. Who knew it would be the one that would start this whole goddamn ball to roll down the hill and lead me here?

My muscles scream with an ache that can’t even begin to rival the one in my chest or the emotions I felt—still feel—after all was said and done.

The need to outrun or outdo the memory of that day is still burning strong.

But it’s the guilt that eats at me. Why I felt it then and why I couldn’t give a fuck less about it now.

“Jack-Jack . . . I’m so sorry. Dad died.”

My arms falter on the pull-up. My strength wanes as I am hit with the emotions of that day. I’d been in the airport, rushing

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