to fix her. I’ve kept my distance. She chose Toby, and I respect that, but I’ll continue to stay by her side. Because she deserves to be loved and cherished. She deserves to be fucking worshiped.
But not by me.
I’m not that guy.
I’m not Jase or Toby. I’m me. The person who knows his limits and worth.
Crouching down, I wipe her eyes and wish to ease her struggles. How can someone claim to love her yet continue to hurt her at every turn? If she was mine, I’d literally kneel at her feet. She’d be my queen, and no one would ever come between us. Petty differences, stubbornness, and every other emotion wouldn’t stop me from fixing it. Does Toby not see how he’s depleting her? How with every push, she falls apart even more? Does he not understand she lost, too?
It’s not one-sided. A marriage never is. Where she swallows it all, he acts like a child. As if he’s the only one who lost and surrendered.
She gave up more, sacrificed everything, and yet still, he walks away?
He’s not the same person who kept my secret for fifteen years, protecting me, my daughter, my legacy. No, he’s less than that man now. A shell that somehow still exists. At least Nate tries to battle his addiction. Even now, as none of us can reach him, he’s trying. He broke when Lo tried killing herself. He literally relapsed from the guilt, but he’s pushing through. That’s the difference between my two best friends. One wants to make a difference while the other wants pity.
Until he mans the fuck up, I’ll be here like a goddamn father figure for him, scolding him, taking care of his wife, and hoping that he finally pulls his stupid ass out of the clouds and loves her. Does he not see Lo in Joey? The dejection, the ruining, the barely-there woman who was once a goddess? The one who fought back, battling, conquering as if fighting was her only sustenance? Does he not realize the patterns are nearly mirrored, desperate, seeking help, and he’s just too goddamn stupid and stubborn to save her?
What made him save Loren? What made her special?
Because as I cradle my daughter’s best friend in my arms, holding her to me to keep her warm and watched over, I’m not sure what the fuck changed to make Loren more suitable for his love than the woman he vowed to cherish.
He’s despicable.
His behavior is unacceptable.
She’s a tree infested with beetles that harvest each livable root, consuming and devouring until it eventually dies due to its gluttonous actions.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Toby’s loud bark slices through me, rattling my cage like an aggressor. The way it hits me isn’t with fear but more with worry. His words are slurred and heavy. He’s fucking tanked, and the way he staggers toward us with a bottle clutched in his hand has anger rising inside me.
Since I left America for France, I’ve kept my temper in check. It’s what’s necessary for someone in my political position. Being stupid and aggressive isn’t acceptable, and as I watch him trip over his own two feet, I want nothing more than to punch him in his face. Screw my image, he needs to fucking learn.
He’s past his normal drunk. Toby can hold his liquor. When a normal person gets to the point of no return, bordering on alcohol poisoning, that’s when Toby is at his calmest. When a normal person would be dead, that’s when Toby is incoherent. Like now. He can’t focus, but his rage is barely tamed. Haunted eyes stare back at me, desolate of morality, readily corrupt and damning to vanquish.
I don’t let Joey go. Even as she whimpers in her sleepy daze, I hold her and wait out the storm that is Tobias Hayes.
“You’re n-not fucking welcome, F-Frankie.” His words are getting choppier. Messy like his disheveled hair and attire. Who was it this time? Bry? I bet it was her. She’s the only one who willingly drives here at a moment’s notice.
“Neither are you,” I bark. The harshness lacing my tone comes off deadly. It’s venomous, leaking disgust and hatred. What has he done to himself? To his wife? With his red-rimmed glossy eyes and his strained face, he’s hopeless.
Looking at him with his sadness seeping from his pores like the whiskey, I feel bad. But right now, he doesn’t need me. She does. She’s the one hurting. He hurts her. He always