Desperately Devastated (Addicted To You, Book Nine) by Lucy Covington Read Free Book Online Page A

torn.
    I turned over and spread myself out across the bed. It was so big that I couldn’t reach both sides, but it helped me somehow to feel not as alone, like if I wasn’t all scrunched up on one side of the bed that it meant nothing was missing.
    But of course something was missing.
    Or rather, someone was missing.
    Justin still hadn’t texted me back.
    So I texted him yet again.
    He wasn’t replying, though. It was enough to drive me crazy, so I turned on the TV and began to play a game with myself. I set my phone facedown on the bed, and tried to see how long I could go without checking to see if he’d texted.
    The most I lasted was four minutes.
    When he still hadn’t texted me by four in the morning, I started to wonder if maybe I should call the police. He was out, in New York City, at four in the morning, doing God knows what.
    Surely he would have at least texted me to let me know he was okay? A thrill ran through me ass I imagined myself dialing 911. The police would show up, their hats emblazoned with the NYPD logo.
    “When was the last time you saw Mr. Brown?” they’d ask me.
    “A few hours ago,” I’d say. “But he hasn’t been in touch. It’s very strange for him not to at least check in with me.”
    Of course, that last part was a lie. Justin wasn’t good about checking in with me.
    But I couldn’t tell them that. I’d have to make it out like this was rare behavior for him, otherwise they’d think he was out gallivanting around the city.
    I pulled the blanket closer around me.
    Of course I wasn’t going to call the police. And of course Justin was out gallivanting around the city.
    I squeezed my eyes shut tight in an effort to keep from crying and hopefully maybe fall asleep. Why did things have to be like this? There were hundreds of boys at my school, hundreds of nice boys from good families who were studying interesting things – philosophy, accounting, psychology, marketing, computer science. Why wasn’t I interested in any of them? Forget having a relationship, I’d settle for an unrequited crush.
    But none of those boys interested me. All I could think about was Justin. His lips, his touch, the way his eyes burned so bright whenever he thought another guy was touching me. How could he be so fiercely protective like that, and then leave me here like this, alone, not knowing where he was or what he was doing?
    Thoughts started to enter my mind, the same thoughts that had plagued me on the subway the other day. That maybe we were just too different. That maybe our lifestyles just weren’t compatible. And if it was this way now, how would it be when I was in med school? Or when I was an intern or a resident? I’d be working insane hours, spending lots of time with the people in my program. There was a reason doctors tended to date other doctors. It wasn’t because they all had their love of medicine in common. It was because they hardly saw anyone else.
    I used to think that when you were in love with someone, nothing else really mattered. But now I was starting to feel like maybe that wasn’t true. The thought was horrible and depressing, and so I turned off the TV and closed my eyes again, telling myself I couldn’t open them until I fell asleep or my alarm went off.
    A few moments later, I fell into a restless sleep.
    JUSTIN
    The pitcher was gone.
    I’d started on another beer, but my mood was going south. The numbness had been replaced by a dark, gloominess—tinged with bitter resentment.
    Should’ve knocked that Carter dude out fucking cold when I had the chance, I thought, staring down at my beer as I sat on the stool.
    The bar had gotten more crowded and the crazy chicks had left after trying and failing to engage me in conversation.
    I wanted to turn on my phone but I also knew it was a bad idea. Nothing good could possibly come from checking my phone. There would either be a message from Brooklyn explaining how she was telling the world about our baby, or something