Broken hearts & Coup d'etats - THE SPECTER SERIES [book three]

Chapter EIGHT

Ellerie Devereux

A soft thud wakes you a few hours after falling asleep, exhausted in Jackson's arms.. You open your eyes but don't move as you listen to the sounds of a cupboard open and closing in your kitchen, the tap running briefly.. Figuring it's just Jackson getting himself a glass of water you snuggle back into the warm cocoon of blankets..

Soon, footsteps make their way across the living room floorboards before they're silenced by the soft carpet as he enters your bedroom.. He stops by the foot of the bed, and you hear a rustle, the clink of metal as he buckles his belt and the swoosh of the cotton shirt as he pulls it on...

You hold your breath, confused.. It doesn't take long for your half asleep brain to realise what he's doing..

He's sneaking out..
In the middle of the night.. Like a coward..

Even after you had asked him to stay..

A dull ache begins to radiate from your chest, and a bitter taste forming in your mouth at the shadyness of it all.. Your mind peels through the courses of action you could take, each and every one ending badly..

He is still for several beats, as if he's considering his next move, before he sighs softly turning to leave.. Just as he reaches the door, you decide to speak up.. To say exactly what you're thinking.. To speak on what you're feeling in the moment.. For your own sake and his, you can't keep tip-toeing around, acting like you're a casual sex kind of woman, instead of the all or nothing type you actually are..

"Sneaking out.. Nice.. If you leave like this, Ford.. Don't bother coming back here.. Ever.."

He freezes, probably surprised that you're awake, so you roll over and sit up in the darkness.. Only his hulking silhouette is visible in the doorway against the streetlight that filters into the living room.. You pull the sheets up to cover yourself from the chill that has set in.. "Ellerie.. I can't--" His voice is gravelly and stained..

You scoff.. "Yeah.. You say that.. But you'll still show up here and climb in my bed.. I mean.. Shit Jax, you can't have it both ways.." You try to keep your own voice steady as you reach over to flick on the bedside lamp, blinking allowing your eyes to adjust to the soft yellow glow that floods the room, illuminating everything except Jackson's furiously dark expression..

He stands stiff, at attention, fists clenched at his sides.. "Me? Have it both ways?.. Don't act so innocent, sweetheart.. It's not exactly like you've been entirely honest here.."

Your blood boils around your bones.. He's completely twisting this around, making you the bad guy when obviously, it's him.. .. Isn't he?

"I tried being honest.. I tried to tell you how I was feeling.. It was you who didn't want to hear it, Ford.. You were the one who told me you could never love me.. Remember?.. So yes, I asked you to leave that night.. But not because I wanted you to! You were the one who wanted out.. Not me.. Imagine my confusion when you show up, asking all these questions like you actually give a shit, forgive me for foolishly thinking that might actually mean something.. That you might actually--"
You stop yourself before you say too much, admit too much..

Jackson is so reserved, you keep forgetting that with him, you need to keep your cards closer to your chest, otherwise, he's going to take everything from you, and you can't let that happen..

Instead you hold to the anger you feel that he would sneak away in the middle of the night.. You let it bubble and rise in your chest.. "Incroyable! Se faufiler au milieu de la nuit! Enfoiré!" You tend to revert to your first language when you're mad..

He takes a step towards you, narrowing his eyes.. "Uh-uh, don't do that, don't change the subject.. I might actually what?!" He crosses his arms over his chest and fixes you with a cool stare..

You can't bring yourself to say 'actually want to be with me' because.. Well he will just say he told you so..

And he did..

You can't say you weren't warned..

You simply shake your head and sigh in response... "It doesn't matter.."

He scowls, cracking his neck from side to side and huffing out a frustrated breath.. "I can't do this right now, baby.. Just.. Go back to bed.. We can talk later.." He turns and takes another step towards the door.. But you're not letting it go this time..

The two of you have been avoiding having a discussion about whatever it is that is going on between you and the emotional whiplash needs to stop.. "I mean it, Ford.. You leave.. This.. Us-- Whatever it is we've been doing-- It's over.."

He nods once stiffly, without even turning back to look at you.. "Then, it's over.."

With that, he strides out the bedroom door.. You listen as he undoes the bolts, the handle clicks and a few seconds later the front door slams shut behind him..

You spring to your feet and fly across the floor, through the living room, out to the front door.. You flick the deadbolt back into place and re-affix the chain, dropping your forehead against the door, already feeling like an asshole..

The way you always feel after running your mouth..
Which is why you try your hardest to avoid it..

You mutter to yourself disappointed in yourself..
"Oh God.. What the hell did you just do, you stupid bitch?"