Page 98 of Inseparable
Twenty minutes later, I have the answer to at least one of my questions.
Light blooms to life in Ange’s second floor apartment as the living room curtains are opened. The wide window offers an excellent view into her small apartment as I bring the binoculars to my eyes. Her head is angled in the direction of my car, and she’s staring right at me. I don’t make any secret of my presence so there’s nothing surprising about that. Whatissurprising is the fact she doesn’t appear to have told the knucklehead about me. And he hasn’t noticed me hanging around outside his place these last few weeks either, which doesn’t instill any confidence in his ability to protect her.
He appears in the room, and she says something to him over her shoulder. He takes off his jacket and tie, approaching her with a smug expression. When she stands up, all the blood in my body rushes south. She’s topless, standing in black lace panties with a garter belt holding her fishnet stockings in place. Her legs are long and slender in the black high heels, invoking old memories which aren’t helping with the growing bulge in my pants. Grabbing him, she spins him around so his back is flattened against the window, and I sense where she’s going with this.
I should put the binoculars down and get the fuck out of here, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
She strips his pants and boxers down and turns him to the side a little, making sure I can see. Then she takes his cock in her mouth, proceeding to suck him off. She makes a meal of it, dragging it out for my benefit, no doubt. I’m caught between arousal and anger and envy—wanting to whip my cock out of my jeans and stroke myself to releaseandwanting to charge up the stairs, rip her away from him, and pummel his face into next week.
When she’s done, she stands up, staring out the window, licking her lips, and teasing her nipples between her thumb and her forefinger. Jerk face grabs her tits from behind, slipping his hand in the front of her panties in full view of the street below. A couple walking their dog along the sidewalk stare up at them, open-mouthed, struggling to believe their eyes.
Bile floods my mouth, and I’ve reached my limit. I put the binoculars down and send a text to Nate, asking him to take over for me. Nate is the PI who’s worked for me for years. As soon as I found Ange here, I called him up, offered double his fee, and he got on a plane straightaway. He usually takes the night shift while I follow Ange during the day.
He pulls up twenty minutes later, and I take off, stopping outside the next liquor store I come across, frantically trying to talk myself off the ledge. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since high school, but there’ve been plenty of occasions where I’ve been tempted. Most all of them were Ange-related, but this is the worst episode yet. If I close my eyes, I can still smell it, still taste the pungent sharpness of JD swirling on my tongue and sliding down my throat. Images of Ange sucking that asshole off refuse to empty from my mind, and I get out of the car. Staring at the store, I grab fistfuls of my hair, kicking the tires on my SUV. I start pacing, praying for strength that’s in limited supply. She fucking pushed my buttons tonight, and if she keeps this up, I know I’m going to crack and do something I’ll regret.
Right now, I’m so fucking tempted to just kidnap her cranky ass, tie her up, and not let her go until she expunges the guilt and the grief from her soul. While I don’t have all the answers I seek, I know this is related to Ayden’s death. I can’t believe she’s still blaming herself for it.
And I meant what I said to her.
I fucking hate my former best friend.
His suicide was the most fucking selfish thing he ever did. He may as well have taken us with him. It wasn’t just one life, one family, that was ruined that day.
His death was the catalyst that destroyed the girl we both loved.
And she still hasn’t recovered from it.
Has she done this deliberately as some form of self-punishment?It’s really the only thing that makes sense, but how long does she intend to keep this up? Was she ever planning on coming back home?Natalie’s heart is broken. There isn’t a day goes by when she doesn’t miss her daughter. I hate that I’m keeping my newfound knowledge from Ange’s mom, especially when I promised her she’d be the first to know, but she can’t see Ange like this.
Drunk, lost, and out of control.
It would destroy her all over again.
It’s up to me to get through to Ange. To help her clean up, and then I can take her home. Reunite her with the mother I know she still loves.
That reinforcement is all I need to pull myself together.
Caving to the demon drink would be so easy, but I can’t do that to myself or the people depending on me.
I get back in my car, power up the engine, and floor it out of there before I capitulate.
Whether she wants to face it or not, Ange needs me.
The last time she needed me, I let her down.
I’m not going to fail her again.
I’m watching TV on low in my bedroom, nursing a lukewarm coffee when Nate calls. “Devin, I think you need to get here.”
Hearing his urgent tone, I grab my jeans off the floor, shucking them on as adrenaline courses through my veins. “Talk to me.”
“I followed Angelina and her boyfriend to a club. They’ve both been heavily drinking, and now they’re arguing, and it looks like it’s about to turn nasty.”
“I’m on my way,” I say, shoving my feet into my sneakers.
When I pull up a little while later, Ange is in the middle of the parking lot outside the club shouting at the douche. She’s wearing a strapless black minidress and high heels. It’s freezing outside, and I can see her shivering from here. She’s also stumbling a lot, struggling to maintain her balance.
“They got thrown out of the club a few minutes ago,” Nate explains when I reach him. He’s standing in front of his car, about three hundred feet away from the warring couple, with his arms folded, watching them bicker. We’re not close enough to make out exactly what’s being said. “He appears to be blaming her for that.”
