someone to adopt them who actually gives a damn, or even death. Because anything is better than that.
I’m happy Bree is with us. I’m happy she’ll be safe, but I go back to when I was fourteen-years-old, and I feel like I'm going to puke.
“You guys had the good judge.” I snap back to the conversation when I hear Gillian say that and look over at her. “When I saw it was Judge Martin, I breathed a sigh of relief. He’s always fair.”
Bree is smiling brightly as she sits in between her friends. “Yeah. He was nice.”
Gillian gives her a kind smile, and Blair lifts her glass to take a drink before placing it in front of her. “Yeah, I was a little worried there for a second, seemed like he was buying Herrington’s bullshit.”
Now Bree looks worried as my eyes shoot to her. “Really?”
I see the fear in her eyes, the unmistakable nervous look. “Hey.” My voice is directed only at her, and her eyes meet mine. “It doesn’t matter. We. Won.”
She gives a clipped nod, but I can tell she’s trembling. Her voice is quiet. “I’m glad.”
Blair offers her a wide grin. “As if there was any other choice,” she smirks over at me on her left side, “besides Mexico.”
I smile at that and nod, taking a drink of water. Bree smiles now and shakes her head. “You guys are weird.”
Phillip laughs now, and it’s odd how much he looks like Logan, or I guess Logan looks like him. And their laugh is similar. “You guys are parents now.”
Everyone snickers, and we all start to eat. I start to feel my nerves calm, but then I jolt, almost embarrassingly so when I feel Blair’s hand run up my thigh. I jump up out of my seat like she burned me, and everyone gawks at me, horrified.
Oh. Fuck.
My breathing is rapid, and I excuse myself quickly, escaping the restaurant and out into the cool autumn air.
I hear the door push open, and I don’t look over because I know it’s Blair. I can smell her perfume.
“Rhys. I’m so fucking sorry.”
God damn it.
I look at her, seeing her expression and hating how afraid for me she looks. “Don’t.”
She shakes her head, the wind pushing her wild blond locks all over the place. She shoves it behind her ears and walks closer to me. “I’m sorry. That was so fucking stupid. I didn’t mean—”
“To what?” I cut her off, feeling a fury that has nothing to do with her. “To touch your husband’s thigh under the table? To fucking touch your husband?” I say the words in a calculated, slow fashion to show her that it’s me who’s acting crazy. Not her.
She shakes her head, tears in her eyes. “I know better.”
I laugh bitterly. “You know better than to touch your husband? Do you hear how fucking insane that is? Do you get what you married yet?”
“I know exactly who I married, Rhys,” she shoots back, deadly certain.
I shake my head. “You should be able to touch me whenever the fuck you want to, but you can’t. You. Can’t.”
“I don’t care. I’m just sorry I did it.”
I shake my head, hating my fucking mind, my body, everything. “You shouldn’t be sorry for touching me.” I place my hand over my chest and look at her head-on. “I’m the freak. I’m the one who is so fucked-up. I saw the way he was in the courtroom today. I know that fucking look.”
“You’re traumatized by past abuse. It’s normal.”
Again, my bitter laugh fills the night air. “It’s not normal. I’m not fucking normal. I’m fucked. Up.”
Why can’t she see that? She should take Bree and run far away, but I know she won’t. She won’t leave me. We’re as good as really married in her eyes.
“I. Don’t. Care.”
“You deserve so much better than this.”
She doesn’t let the tears fall, and I can see how angry that makes her. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m so fucking sick of pretending, Blair.”
I may as well have slapped her with the way she’s looking at me. “Pretending?”
“Yes. Pretending.” I take a step back from her, my blood boiling and revulsion rising. Repulsed by myself. “We have Bree now. She’s not living with that motherfucker. We can stop this show.”
“Why are you doing this?” She barely croaks the words, and I feel like my knees are going to buckle here on the parking lot pavement.
“I told you. You deserve someone you can touch, you can fuck, you can kiss.”
“You’ve kissed