again. This time softer, sweeter, slower. And when he pulls back, he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. Gosh, I’m happy, too.
“I’ll go grab us some drinks,” he shouts above the music and gently tucks my wild hair behind my ear. “Find us a table.”
I nod, jerking my thumb back to the corner. I watch after him as he walks away. Every part of me tingles with excited energy.
We turn in different directions. I weave my way toward the darkest corner of the room and I struggle to keep myself from melting into a lovestruck ball of goo on the dirty bar floor.
But my good mood doesn’t last long. I sense a presence following behind me. The shadow lingers just long enough that I feel an eerie chill climb up my forearms. I don’t have time to question it. Someone grips my arm. Hard.
What in the ever loving fu—?
I stagger on my feet and spin around. “Kirk.”
This is the first time I’ve seen him since our divorce became final. Standing here in front of my ex-husband right now, I don’t feel sorrow or grief or heartache. I don’t feel that overwhelming sense of longing or failure that I experienced months ago. No. I just feel…disgust.
His hands definitely don’t belong on me.
“What are you doing? Stop. Let go of my arm,” I demand in my firmest voice. Sudden, unsolicited memories—him yelling, name calling and ridiculing me in those final months—hit me harder than I expected. I grit my teeth. I narrow my gaze on his face, and I swear, red tinges the corners of my vision.
There’s something off about him today. The man standing right here, gripping my wrist hard enough that I feel the bones scrape together, this man is just...off. His eyes tell me something I’m afraid to see—Kirk Bunting is unhinged.
My pulse picks up and I am truly afraid.
I take a step back. Not a smart move because now, I’m only further into the shadows, further away from help. “Kirk. Let go. You’re hurting me,” I grit, trying to pull my sore arm free. My struggle only seems to encourage him. I twist my wrist, and my arm follows, managing to only bring me closer to him, and I smell the sickly sweet liquor on his breath. It’s enough to make my stomach flip.
“I knew you were fucking him,” he spits, and I hold my breath against the hot stench. “What a slut you are. Banging my so-called friend. Is this why you couldn’t pick up your damn phone whenever I called? Too busy whoring yourself out, just to try and hold onto a piece of me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I underestimated you. Really, I never thought you’d stoop so low. Jude Kingston?! Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice keeps climbing. Though I’m afraid to glance around the bar, I can feel lots of eyes on me.
I don’t know how much he knows about Jude and me, but right now, I just need to focus on getting him calmed down. Because I’m nervous about the rage he’ll fly into if he comes face-to-face with his former friend right now. I feel helpless. And the music is so loud, I can hardly hear the frantic thoughts crashing about inside my head.
I just want him out the door. Maybe if security sees his drunken ass, they’ll deal with him?
His eyes turn absolutely feral as he leans into me. “Stop trying to squirm away from me,” he threatens. “You’re going to listen to me, bitch, and you’re going to—”
Just as I open my mouth to scream for help, my ex-husband's grip disappears. The sudden movement makes me trip over my own feet. My hip crashes into a nearby table—ouch!—but I’m just grateful to be out of Kirk’s painful grip.
When I’m steady on my feet again, I look up into the dark, protective eyes of my rescuer.
My sexy-ass new boyfriend.
Jude Kingston.
43
Jude
It takes all my self-restraint not to go elbowing my way across the packed room when I see Kirk crowding Iris against a booth.
The bartender slides my two drinks across the counter and stretches a hand full of change to me, but I’m too focused on Iris to pay the guy any mind. I slide off my stool and stalk slowly over the distance. They were together for years. I don’t want to go charging into the situation like a fucking neanderthal if all Iris is looking for is a conversation to bring