Bentley
Shit.
Seventeen days until Hillary’s supposed wedding, and I’d be on my knees every day praying, praying for a miracle because I believe in one. I thought I needed a month away from her to get over her, but it seemed like I needed more, so I took more, and then more. But I can’t run forever. I wouldn’t deny the fact that being away helped—I’m more sane, calm, and collected. However, I do think the moment I set my eyes on her, everything flies away.
I want her to be mine, and I know that I’m a terrible person, but let’s be real—Jake does love her, but he never got over that stink, Jackie, and I don’t need psychic powers to know that he has cheated on Hillary a couple of times. More than three times. Hillary deserves better.
That’s the problem. What if I’m not better? What if I’
