Everly After Read Online Free

didn’t want to. There were people to cook and clean and raise us. But I don’t want that to be my truth anymore. I want to live for myself. I want to know that, if the world falls away, I can stand on my own.
    I glance over my shoulder, deciding it best to ignore his comment. I’m not sure why I bothered with the keys; my door was never locked. A few strangers are still passed out around my place. I step inside, thankful for the cool air that doesn’t smell like Hudson. Thankful for the small space separating us now.
    I don’t look back. I don’t want to see his face as he takes in what I’ve run away to or the carnage from last night. So I stand by the kitchen island, shoving the trash on the counter off onto the floor to make room for my purse.
    He pulls in a deep breath, then slowly releases it. “Where’s all your stuff, Ev?”
    An empty handle of vodka rolls at my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a disco ball tucked away in the kitchen corner by the overflowing trash can. I pick it up, hugging it in my arms while Hudson nudges some guy on the floor with his shoe.
    “This looks like it was fun.” His lips curl up. “Why didn’t I get an invite?”
    I spin the disco ball over the counter, but the light isn’t right in the apartment this time of day, so I have a mirrored ball in my hands that refuses to refract light. It breaks my frown into tiny pieces and reflects it back to me instead.
    “Can you get rid of these people?” I ask.
    “Who are they?”
    I shrug. “Just get rid of them.”
    He grumbles, but after twenty minutes, my apartment is cleared of hungover strangers.
    I take out my phone—a mindless distraction. No one has this number. I’ve switched emails. I’m not on social media anymore. It’s been nice to be unplugged from things, but I need something to do so I pretend it’s the most interesting phone in the world.
    “You had a party with a bunch of strangers and then left? They could have taken your stuff.”
    “What stuff?” I wave my arms around at the trash and tipped furniture I’ve picked from the dumpster. I have nothing but a Louis Vuitton suitcase, and I stashed that under my bed. The important things are with me in my clutch.
    Hudson grabs the phone out of my hands, then I hear an answering text from his suit pocket, and I realize my quiet is over. As if I needed his number stored in my contacts to remind me. His kiss was enough.
    I’m waiting for him to judge me or cut me down. Or kiss me again. Instead, he surprises me by asking if I want to stay with him, as if I’m some sad charity case who’s destitute. As if my shitty apartment isn’t good enough.
    I take back my phone and toss it onto the counter. Staying with Hudson would be a terrible idea.
    “If you need money…”
    I cross my arms, squaring off across from him. Hudson towers over me. He’s tall and lean, his body powerful from years of soccer. “I don’t need anyone’s money.”
    Hudson pries my arms down and hauls me close. His lips trail down my throat, sucking at the spot between my neck and shoulder until I throw back my head, giving in to how he makes me feel… something.
    I hate him, even if he always makes me feel good. And I hate him a little more because of that, too.
    “I want to hear you say it.” His voice rumbles over me, shaking me awake.
    I slide my hand up his chest, over his tailored gray suit, tracing his tanned neck and cleanly shaved jaw. My fingers cover his lips, still wet from kissing me. “I’m fine.”
    This is our game, after all—always pushing each other closer toward that reckless mistake that will destroy us both.
    “I’ll get some wine,” I say.
    He stays glued to that spot, studying me, as I sway back into the small kitchen. I feel like prey under that hardened stare of his.
    No, his attack on me was that kiss. My body warms as it plays over in my head. He didn’t ask because he’s Hudson Wilkes. He never has to ask for anything. And when it comes to me,