Pretending (Westshore Series #1)

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Empty Promises

JULIETS POV

I would tell everyone today.

I would tell them all that I relapsed.

Tell them that I have been lying to them for over a month.

It takes me a ridiculous amount of time to drag myself out of bed. I am in so much pain that all I want to do is bury my head under my duvet and stay there.

I don't feel right. My mind is reeling and my body is in agony. By the time I change into some clothes and brush my teeth, my body feels like it is trying to hack itself apart from the inside out.

Ten minutes later, I'm standing at his door.

I knock four times before the door swings open and Warner is standing in front of me, tired and dishevelled, with a look of utter confusion creasing his brow. "Jules? Are you okay?"

He is silent for a long moment, looking at me. I know what he is doing. He is worrying about how he can make it better for me.

My gaze trails over him and I feel safe again. He's only wearing sweatpants, no shirt, and his hair is tousled from sleep. His eyes search mine and his hands reach for me. "Warner..." I whisper, and the words won't come out.

He might not forgive me when he finds out how much of a screw-up I am.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his for one last kiss. He holds me tight against his chest as if he is afraid of letting me go.

He kisses me with conviction and apology and anger, and it's somehow all wrapped up in tenderness. When our tongues meet, it's a momentary reprieve from reality. We both exhale softly because this is exactly how a kiss should feel. My knees want to buckle from the feel of his lips against mine.

I kiss him harder, even though I know this kiss won't lead to anything. It won't correct anything. It won't right any of my wrongs, but I also know it could be the last time I get to kiss him, and I don't want to deny myself that.

He wraps his arm around me, sliding one hand up my neck and into my hair. He cradles my head and it feels as if he's attempting to memorize every aspect of the way it feels when we kiss.

The kiss between us quickly grows painful, and not in a physical sense. The more we kiss, the more I realize what I'm losing and it hurts. It scares me to know that there's a chance I've come across one of the few people in this world who can make me feel this way, and I might have to give it up.

Warner pulls back and looks me in the eyes with a pained expression like he knows what I'm going to say. He moves his hand from the back of my head and brings it to my cheek, brushing a thumb over my bottom lip. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I was just worried and I hate that you lied to me."

My heart is racing so hard in my chest at this moment that I find myself breathing faster, exhaling in short, puffy breaths.

"I deserved to be yelled at. I lied to you. And it's not the only time I have lied recently."

Warner is silent at my confession and his hand is no longer on me. I try not to cringe when he takes a step away from me.

My palms practically drip sweat. Every doubt and insecurity about my body crowds in on me, but I force those aside. I shove past my humiliation and fear, to tell the truth.

"I may have relapsed."

Don't look at him.

If I look at him, I will lose it, and I am already half out of my mind. The stress, guilt and exhaustion of the past month has seeped into my bones, turning me into a walking zombie.