Page 71 of Knockout (Whiskey Dolls 2)

“Are you”—I had to swallow around the lump that was suddenly clogging my throat—“are you breaking up with me?” I asked as my vision became wet and glassy.

“No. I just...I need a break. I need some space to think, that’s all.”

God, I hated those cliched, cop-out words. “Stop dancing around it and spit it out already,” I demanded. “At the very least, I’ve earned the right to know what the fuck is going on.”

“Princess, it’s not that simple—” he started.

“Bullshit!” I snapped. “It really is. Why has something suddenly changed, Jude? And don’t give me anymore of those fucking platitudes. I want the truth.”

His jaw ticked, his expression going dark. “You want the truth? Fine, here it is. After this weekend, it’s become clearer than ever that this thing between us isn’t going to work.”

Oh God. I wasn’t going to cry. Not right now. Not in front of him.

“I saw the way my family got to you, how they hurt you with everything they said, and that shit is inside me, Layla. It’s a part of who I am.” He gave his chest an angry thump. “Look at how we met, for Christ’s sake. I try my fucking hardest not to be like them, but it’s still there. You deserve better than the shit they spewed at you this weekend, and you damn sure deserve better than the bullshit I shoveled on you when we first met. I can try my hardest to keep myself in check, but there are no guarantees I won’t fuck up and hurt you again by turning into an asshole, and I can’t stand the fucking thought of hurting you.”

I sniffled, unable to catch the single tear that broke away before I could stop it. “But Jude, you’re hurting menow. I never asked you to be perfect. I know you’re an asshole, believe me! But I’m more than capable of giving it back just as good as I get.” I let out a bewildered laugh. “As crazy as it may make me sound, that’s one of the things I actually love about us!”

“Layla, my family is always going to be there in the background. It might take them a while to make a sneak attack, but trust me, it’s only a matter of time. They’ll never be gone for good, especially now when they have nothing left. I can’t let them pollute you with their shit like they’ve been doing to me all my life.”

I threw my head back on a sardonic laugh that, coupled with the tears streaming down my face, probably made me look as manic as I was feeling just then. “Wow. Okay. I finally get it,” I bit out.

“Baby, please try to understand—”

“Oh I do! I totally understand. I understand that you don’t actually know me at all if you really think I’m weak enough to let those assholes destroy my self-esteem. They’re vile, disgusting excuses for human beings, Jude, but believe me when I tell you that I’ve known worse. You really must not think very highly of me if you think I’ll crumble at some mean words said by pathetic, miserable people. Not only that, but you unilaterally made a decision regardingourrelationship without even discussing it with me becauseyouthink you know what’s best for me! Like I said, Jude. I understandperfectly.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he insisted as I whipped around and shoved my key into the deadbolt, twisting it aggressively before throwing the door open. “I just can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.”

“Well that’s your problem, Jude, not mine,” I snapped as I kicked my suitcase through the door and stepped across the threshold before turning to face him again, one hand braced on the open door. “People get hurt every single day. There’s no way to stop it. Your mistake was underestimating me, for actually thinking you needed to save me. I’m not some pathetic damsel in distress, man. I’m strong enough to save myself. I’ve been doing it my whole goddamn life. All I needed out of you was to have my back whenever I got knocked down so I could work on picking myself up.”

I could see my words had penetrated when his eyes went wide and he took a step forward. “Princess—”

I lifted my hand to stop him. “You wanted some time and space to think? Well now you have it. But a word of warning, don’t knock on my door untilyou’restrong enough to get over all this bullshit with your family.”

On that, I slammed the door in his face and threw the lock into place. Then I dragged myself into my room, collapsed on my bed, and cried.

Because even strong women were entitled to a good, long cry sometimes.

32

Jude

Iwas a fucking idiot, no two ways about it. Not only had I hurt the woman I loved—yes, I’d given up trying to deny it and admitted it to myself right around the time Layla had slammed her door in my face last weekend. Problem was, I hadn’t had the chance to tellheryet—but I’d also ruined something really,reallyfucking good by letting myself wallow in my own head instead of just working my shit out.

Layla had said it before. People only had the power to hurt you if you gave it to them. I’d been giving my family that power for years. I’d finally seen the light and made the decision that I was done with that shit. Problem was, I worried that I’d had that epiphany way too late.

I’d felt the smallest niggling of hope when she’d said not to knock on her dooruntil, instead of just telling me to get the fuck out of her life all together, but the very few times I’d actually heard signs of life in her apartment and went down to knock, there hadn’t been an answer. The only times I’d seen her in passing were when she was leaving the building, and she turned her nose up at my attempts to talk to her, continuing on her path like she hadn’t heard me.

And Gram had certainly been no fucking help at all. As soon as she found out what I’d done, she’d smacked me upside the back of the head and kicked me out of her house, telling me not to come back until I fixed it. She didn’t give a damn that I was trying. She wouldn’t be happy until it was done. I knew that by the daily text messages I received from her, checking on the status of Operation Get Your Head Out of Your Ass—obviously, she’d named it. She even texted me yesterday to tell me not to bother picking her up for her weekly hair appointment. Apparently, I’d been replaced by her favorite Uber driver, Antonio.

For seven fucking days I’d moped around my apartment, moped around my various job sites, hell, I’d even moped around the gym the one time I found the energy to go, and that had led to dropping a twenty-pound free weight on my foot. Not fun.

When I wasn’t moping, I was sitting and staring. At the walls, the floor, the TV I didn’t have the energy to pay attention to. But mostly, I stared at the ring Layla had taken off her finger and returned to me on the way home from the hotel. I hadn’t had the heart to give it back to my grandmother. Every time I thought about it, my stomach pitched painfully. So I’d made the decision to keep it tucked away somewhere safe for when Ifinallywon Layla back and the time was right to put it back on her finger. I wasn’t in a rush for that. I’d be happy just having her again. I wouldn’t put the cart before the horse.

On that thought I lifted the shovel and brought it back down quickly, trying to slice through a particularly uncooperative root that didn’t want to get out of the damn way. Only I was so off my game that I missed the root and brought the shove down on my boot. Thank Christ for steel-toes, but it still hurt like a motherfucker.

Letting out a grunt of pain, I swallowed down the litany of curse words that wanted to burst past my lips and threw the shovel with all my might.

“Dude, you good?”

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