My Dad's Bestfriend novel Chapter 144

Evelyn

I clenched my teeth at the sound of his voice, not because I loathed it, but because of the unsettling effect it had on me, pulling every fiber of my being toward him. My hands balled into fists at my sides before I summoned the courage to turn and face him. A sharp intake of breath almost escaped me as our eyes met once more—those piercing green eyes of his never failed to captivate me.

You have got this, Evelyn. You can do it.

"Well, Maybe I was leaving because I simply didn't want to look at your fucking face," I shot back, a hint of venom lacing my words. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, as though he doubted my sincerity. In truth, he probably did.

I so badly wished he couldn’t read me so easily.

"I don't think you hate seeing my face," he said, setting the beer bottle down on the counter with a soft clink. The kitchen was far from silent—the wind outside whispered through the open window, tousling his already unruly hair and adding to his ethereal allure.

It was such a fucking cruel irony. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So enchanting and tempting. Yet, I couldn't allow myself to succumb to him again. He was a beautiful disaster—a force that had already shattered me once, and I couldn't afford to be broken again—it'd fucking ruin me.

"Well, you should, because your face disgusts me," I spat out the words, determined to wound him. As expected, hurt flashed in his eyes, the light dimming for a moment before he masked it with a laugh. He'd always been composed when he wanted to and those few times when he'd lost his composure, he lost it so bad that now we were standing here as nothing more than strangers with memories that hurt.

"For some reason—I find that hard to believe," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Your words are hardly trustworthy now."

"You should believe me, because you've lost me," I retorted, venom dripping from every syllable. "All that's left of me for you now is something akin to hatred."

For some inexplicable reason, despite the hurt etched on his face by my words, doubt still clouded his eyes. I was intimately familiar with the nuances of his expressions — not a flicker of belief in a single word I uttered. His features betrayed a suspicion that I harbored intentions to inflict pain upon him. He might actually know about it because as much as I could read him, he could read me too.

"You don't hate me, Evelyn," he sighed, closing the gap between us with measured steps, mindful not to encroach too closely, leaving a few feet of space that somehow failed to buffer the palpable warmth radiating from his body. It could have been a residual sensation, a haunting memory of the contours of his frame pressed against mine, or perhaps the lingering fragrance of his cologne, stirring recollections buried deep within me, but then again, it could all be real, belonging to this moment, “You can never hate me," he murmured, his breath a whisper against the tumult of my thoughts. "You're simply saying these words to wound me, to push me away. But you must understand, I won't give you up willingly. I will fight for you for as long as it takes."

His proximity intensified, the scent of his cologne suffusing the air, making it difficult to draw a steady breath — a tangible presence, so it was not merely a memory.

"It's irrelevant now, Jacob. You've already let me down — shattered everything we once shared, in fact, you fucking crushed it under your foot." I declared, fighting to steady my voice, to prevent the tremor of vulnerability from betraying me. "So it doesn't fucking matter what you do from here on out. I've made my decision to expunge you from my life — you no longer hold a place within it. Every path I choose will lead me farther from you. That’s what I damn well want.”