hands collect my hair, holding it back as my body shakes and tries emptying, but there’s nothing there. It can’t purge itself of disgust and heartbreak. If it could, I’d have left, nothing would have hurt me, and Toby wouldn’t matter. But it doesn’t work that way, and Toby is the only person who can single-handedly destroy me.
He rubs soothing circles into my back as my body launches several more times. When I finish, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and rise from the floor. Frankie’s eyes are laced with concern, his forehead worrisome. It’s amazing that a man this attractive and kind wasn’t here to be with me but rather to take care of me.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
Placing my hands under the running water, I scrub them until they redden. Even then, I rub them more and more until they hurt. Once they’re clean, I try for my face, but the sobs break loose, and I’m a mess. He doesn’t look away or show pity. The only thing he offers is comfort. He’s too nice, and I hate it. Being around someone as cruel as my husband, you get used to not having much kindness directed toward you, so when it’s offered, it’s as polarizing as happiness.
I’m reduced to the sorrow that haunts me and the love that conquers me.
He wraps me into his arms and holds me. Bet Toby ran off somewhere. He could never stick around for the tough shit. Unlike he claims, he’s just like the men he hates most. Disloyal. Weak. Childish.
“It’s going to be okay. You are strong and resilient.” He pulls away enough to lay a kiss on my forehead, and when we pull apart, the venom-filled gaze of my husband interrupts.
“How fucking charming,” he bites out. His expression is nearly expressionless. The only thing that gives him away is his eyes. They’re always liquid hate when he’s angry. They shine in a dark light, letting me know he’s anything but happy.
“Ignore him,” Frankie says, not looking back at the man he once called a friend. “He’s in a pissy mood because he fell asleep before he got to shower last night.” It’s then that I look behind him, but he looks like his normal fucked-up self. Clean, fresh pressed pants, and button-up. Nothing new.
“Worried you’ll see the woman I fucked left on me, Joey?” It’s a taunt, but it’s so much more with the expression he’s wearing. He wants me to know I’m unworthy of him, but that’s not true. It’s him who’s unworthy of me.
He doesn’t get to be with other women and act like the jealous husband.
Not anymore.
“No, I’m worried the man I fucked last night stuck around,” I jab, narrowing my eyes. Today feels different. The battleground between us has opened up a pit, and instead of standing on the sidelines, hoping my guns outmaneuver his, I’m jumping in, hashing it out with my own two hands. He won’t win.
If he wants me back, he can fucking earn me.
Toby takes two steps forward, but as Frankie stiffens and moves me out of his reach, I smile, making sure Toby sees he hasn’t won.
“Don’t worry, honey,” I mock. “I made sure he wore protection.”
Toby’s nostrils flare and his jaw clenches, and for the first time in a year, I haven’t seen him look more attractive. There’s something arousing about a man who wants to kill the person who has touched what is his. Almost as sexy as a man who takes what is his and never lets go.
Too bad Toby can’t be the latter. We’d never be in this mess if he’d just listened and took what he wanted.
He turns and leaves, but not before he gives one last scathing glare. That’s more emotion than he’s offered me in ages. It’s almost adrenaline-inducing; something I want more of now I know which buttons to push.
“That was really fucking stupid,” Francis hisses after the bedroom door slams, more than likely splintering. That door has taken a beating over the last year. I’m lucky it is still attached to its hinges.
“He had it coming,” I complain, rubbing my temples. The discomfort, nausea, and disappointment laced with the adrenalin release has me in so much agony.
“You should drink some water, eat some food, and rest, Ladybug.”
“You’re probably right, but I have to work tonight. And whether or not I got wasted last night, I don’t have a choice.”
“Going to tell me why you drank your life away? That’s not like