Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (78 page)

“Teddy,” I mutter, watching as she slips into her sweater dress. She ignores me, and proceeds to slide her feet into her boots. “Teddy, what are you doing?”

“I’m going home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s late. Your car’s not even here.”

“I don’t care,” she replies with a sniff, hurrying toward the closet. She returns a second later with the duffel bag she keeps stored here, and proceeds to stuff her bra inside before heading for the door.

“Teddy, dammit—you’re not going anywhere!”

She spins around and points an angry finger at me before she yells, “If you don’t love me—if you
won’t
love me, then I’m in this by myself. And I don’t
choose
that, Judah.”

She turns away from me again, and I growl in frustration as I chase after her. I catch her by the arm in the hallway, stopping her in her tracks. She tries to shake me off, but I refuse to let her go.

“It’s fucking freezing outside. What are you going to do,
walk?
”

“I’m not staying here!”

“Fine! If you’re that hell-bent on getting out of here, I’ll take you home.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” she bites, trying once more to wrench her arm free.

“Teddy—get your naked ass in the car. I’m taking you home,” I demand through gritted teeth.

She stares at me for a moment, unrelenting—and then her face falls in surrender. She closes her eyes and nods her head, freeing a few more tears. I let her go, returning to my room to put some clothes on. As I shove my legs into my pants and toss on my sweater, I listen to make sure she’s followed my directions.

I move quickly, slamming my car door as I start the Land Rover. I cannot hide my fury; but by the time we’ve reached the end of my quiet street, my anger has subsided. I listen to her cry all the way back to her apartment. I know exactly where I am, I know exactly where we’re going—but I don’t know
why.
Not really. I feel lost—like I’ve been dropped into someone else’s shoes, on a path that I wasn’t meant for. I find myself driving slower as we draw closer to our destination. This isn’t right. I know that, and yet—I don’t know how to change it.

When I finally pull into a vacant spot in front of her building, I put the car in park, and we just sit for a minute. I wonder if she’s changed her mind. I wonder if it would change mine. Then she reaches for the door handle and something inside of me snaps—it ignites an ache in my chest the likes of which I’ve never known. I reach out to stop her, placing a possessive hand on her leg—

She’s mine. How does she not know that she’s mine?

“We were good an hour ago. We were fine.”

She sighs, the sound that of a woman utterly defeated.

“I don’t want
fine
, Judah. I want
forever
.” She pauses, looking at me from over her shoulder. “I love you. I gave you
everything
. I would have given you forever, too.”

Without another word, she slips out of my grasp and leaves me behind.

I watch her until she disappears, and then my rage returns.

I slam my palms against my steering wheel, wishing I could yell at the top of my lungs, yet knowing that I am not that fool.

For only a fool would mourn the way I feel called to mourn.

Only a fool would surrender his pride and chase after the girl.

Only a fool would call this ache
love
.

Love is for fools.

And I am no fool.

“
Fuck!
”

I
race up the stairs and hurry to my door, cursing when my tears make it nearly impossible to see the lock in front of me. When I finally manage to jam the key in, I twist the door open and fall inside. I barely get the door closed before I’m a wailing, blubbering mess. I cry on the floor for what feels like hours, even though I’m sure it’s probably only been a few minutes; but every minute away from the man I love feels like so much longer. The trickery of agony.

I wonder what it is that I have done. I blame myself for the untamable ache in my chest. If I had just kept my mouth shut, I’d still be in his arms right now. Only, deep down, underneath all the sorrow, I know that would never have been enough. Eventually, the truth would have caught up to us. Eventually, his inability to share in my love would have ripped me apart as it is ripping me apart right now.

I don’t understand it. I
can’t
understand it. I can’t understand how what we shared could mean so little to him when it means so very much to me. I can’t understand how every tender touch and gentle kiss, every sweet word and secret shared, every moment filled with laughter and every hour spent intimately—I
cannot
understand how all of
that
could be so easily discarded by him. How could
I
mean so little to him?

People have been telling me for
weeks
that it’s obvious, just by the way he looks at me, that he’s a man in love. Right here, right now, I resent every single one of them for instilling me with such false hope. And yet, I know I need them, every single one of them—I know that without the people who love me, I might not ever recover from this. Even
with
them, I’m sure I’ll never be the same. I’ll never love again—not like this. Never like this.

Judah Danyl St. Michaels is my forever love
.
I know it as instinctively as I know my own name.

Losing him is not something I’ll
get over
. I’ll carry him in my heart, always. I’ll know this pain, always. For this love is not a
choice
—it is my reality. It’s a part of me.

How am I not a part of him, too?

I cry until it feels like I have no tears left; until I’m exhausted, my body aching from the abuse of my sadness. I know that I should get up and shower, but the thought of washing him off of me for the last time is crippling, so I don’t. Instead, I reach for my phone. This hurts too much to bear it alone.

It’s midnight now, but it doesn’t matter. I call anyway, and she answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

She sounds as if she might have been sleeping, and there is a hint of surprise in her tone. Her voice both comforts me and fills me with sadness anew—for while I need her desperately, hers are not the arms I long for.

“Teddy? Did you butt-dial me? It’s fucking—”

“Harper,” I barely manage, my voice no more than a hoarse whisper.

“Shit. Teddy? Are you okay?”

“Jude and I just…” I choke on a sob, realizing that as soon as I say the words, there is no going back. It’s final. We’re over. “We…broke up.”

“What the
fuck?!
” She continues before I can get a word in. “Shit. Shit! I’m on my way, Teddy Bear.”

She says nothing more before she hangs up, and I look down at myself, knowing that I need to put on some clothes. At the very least, a pair of underwear. Thinking about my lack of underthings reminds me of how I spent my night—with Judah inside of me. The memory is so fresh, I wonder how I can be sitting in the middle of the floor right now,
without
him. It doesn’t make sense.
Nothing
makes sense.

I force myself to get up and I drag my duffle to my room. I don’t even think about unpacking it. There’s only so much finality I can manage for one day. I abandon it in the doorway and then change into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. I then make my way back to the living room, stretching out on the couch to wait for my sister.

I’m not sure how much time passes before there’s a soft knock on the door. For a second, I let myself imagine that it’s Judah—but then the door opens, and two faces I know and love dearly peek their heads inside. I push myself up into a seated position and try offering them a small smile. I’m not successful, and I start crying again instead.

“I brought reinforcements,” Harper says softly as they make their way inside. “I thought you could use all the snuggles you could get.”

I manage a nod before she and Geoffrey join me on the couch. Geoff scoops me up into his arms, settling me in his lap as Harper takes my hand.

“We’re here, baby girl. Everything’s going to be all right.”

I tuck myself under his chin, gripping Harper’s fingers tightly. I love them fiercely for being here, for coming to comfort me in the middle of the night. But if there’s one thing I know for sure—everything is
not
going to be all right.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I open my eyes, I’m in bed. My surroundings, while my own, feel strangely unfamiliar—and my body aches in ways that can only be explained by remembering last night. Last night, when I was in bed with Judah. A bed far more comfortable than mine. A bed that has grown so much more familiar than the one that supports me now.

Now, though, I’m not in bed alone. I take a deep breath as I stare back into the pretty blue eyes that are glued to my brown ones.

“Are you watching me sleep?” I whisper, not at all surprised that my voice is still hoarse. I’m not sure how late we stayed up—me crying as I tried to explain what happened; Geoff and Harper trying to calm me down.

“Maybe,” my best friend answers, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-hearted smile.

“Creep.”

He reaches over and tucks a lose strand of hair behind my ear as he sighs. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. We already did this. For me. Your heart wasn’t supposed to break this year, too. Swear to god, I could beat the shit out of him for being such a royal asshole.”

I press my fingers against his lips, shaking my head as my eyes well up with fresh tears. I know I must look like shit. I feel like it. My eyes are itchy and puffy from all the crying I did earlier. A break from the tears would be nice—but I’ll never stop crying if we talk about it.

He nods his understanding, taking my hand in his and curling it against his chest. I snuggle closer to him, hopeful that his warmth will ease the pain. It doesn’t, but I’m grateful for his presence anyway.

“Harper stepped out for coffee and muffins. She should be back any minute, now. How about a shower?”

I shake my head again, knowing full well that I reek of Judah, and sweat, and sex. I don’t care. I’m still not ready to be rid of him. Not yet. Not so soon.

“I get it, Freckles. I do. But eventually, you have to get up. You have to keep going. You have to move on.”

“How did this happen?” I whimper, feeling completely lost and confused. “Twenty-four hours ago, we were happy.”

“I know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I know, baby girl.”

“I love him so much.” I begin to cry, unable to keep the unwanted tears at bay. “Maybe I made a mistake. This is all my fault.”

“Hey. No. Look at me,” he insists, grabbing hold of my chin and tilting my face up until my eyes meet his. “You are an extraordinary girl, Theodora Rose Fitzpatrick. You deserve far better. You deserve to be cherished. The simple fact that you loved him so deeply is
proof
that you deserve to be on the receiving end of such love—if not more. Don’t put this on you. This is on
him.
”

“Love,” I whisper.

“What?” he asks, gently wiping away my tears.

“You said
loved
. I
love
him. I’ll never stop loving him. I can’t.”