Page 155 of Broken Lines

“Can we just eat our fucking ramen—stop it.”

He stands, making me shiver as he moves around to my side of the kitchen island. His hands slide over my hips as if to draw me against him.

But the timing is terrible. Because I’m stillrip-shitmad and very much still stewing in my jealousy.

“Take your hands off me.”

“C’mere—”

“Jackson,enough.”

“Melody—”

“Stop it!”

I shove him back. He hits the countertop, blinking as he glares at me with a flash of anger and glimmer of sobriety.

But just a glimmer.

“Fine, let’s eat,” he mutters.

He whirls and shoots an arm out behind him as if to grab his bottle of whiskey.

Instead, his knuckles hit my bowl of ramen. Which knocks across the table intohisbowl of ramen. Both bowls hit the ground with the sound of breaking glass and slopping broth and noodles.

The kitchen goes silent as my pulse thuds heavily in my ears, my gaze locked onto the ruined dinner on the floor.

“Fuck, Mel—”

“Don’t.”

My voice is lethal.

“Just…fucking don’t.”

“Mel, it was an accident—”

“Stop talking.”

“Look, I’ll pick it up—”

“STOP TALKING!”

I yank my eyes from the mess to his face. My lips curl when I see him swigging from his bottle.

“Yeah, have another drink, Jackson.”

He lowers the whiskey, frowning as he looks down.

“Lemme fix this.”

He stoops down as if to start picking the mess up with his bare hands.

“Stop it, you’ll cut your—”

“Igot it!”

He doesn’t got it.