and unzip his jeans, keeping my skirt on. Covering my legs.
He finds this hot. I find it necessary.
I kiss his ear as I whisper, “I love you, Eric. I’m so proud of you.” I grab him, steadying his movements as I slide effortlessly onto him.
“Jesus, Nat, you feel amazing.”
Don’t call me Nat.
It does feel good to have him inside me. To be outside of my head for five damn minutes of the day. I can’t pretend, though. I can’t push these suddenly ever present images of Ryker and the future I never got to have out of my head. I close my eyes tighter, begging Ryker to leave my brain. When I open them again, I find Eric staring at me with fear in his eyes. When I wasn’t paying attention he ran his hands up my thighs, lifting my skirt over my hips. Exposing everything.
I pull my skirt down, slide off him, and try to run to the bedroom. He grabs my wrist and forces me back onto the couch.
“What the fuck is that.” He tries to lift my skirt again, but I slap his hand.
“Nothing, Eric. Leave it alone.” I’m caught. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m caught.
Eric leans forward and smashes the heels of his hands into his eyes. “How could I be so stupid,” he whispers to himself.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you went to Lucas’s grave, out drinking with Tosha without telling me . . . are you seeing that Ryker guy behind my back? Is he why you’re doing this?”
Reaching back as far as I can, I slap Eric across the face with all the force I can muster. “You’re a fucking bastard. This isn’t about Lucas, or Ryker, or Tosha. It’s about you. It’s about us. We’re fucking broken, Eric, and I feel trapped. You’re the reason I do this.” I stand with my half-lie and walk toward the hallway. He doesn’t stop me this time.
“Do I need to call your mom or something?” He’s genuinely concerned. He would call my mother. That scares the shit out of me.
I turn slowly, keeping my fear in check. “If you call my mother about this, Eric, you’ll never see your boys again. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
I don’t wait to watch his face melt into pain before I continue to the bedroom and slam the door behind me.
What. The fuck. Now?
Chapter 13
I didn’t sleep at all last night. I sat cross-legged on my bed, waiting for Eric to come in and call my bluff. For him to fight. Something.
Shit.
Sneaking quietly past the boys’ room, I find Eric sleeping on the couch as I start the coffee.
“We need to talk about last night.” I jump at his voice. He clearly wasn’t sleeping.
“I don’t really know what there is to talk about.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Natalie?” Eric whispers as he walks toward me. He never swears.
“You’re an asshole. I’ve been living in my own personal hell for the last six months, and the first time you notice anything is off you blame it on my ex-boyfriend? Not only do you accuse me of cheating, but you understand me so little that you think, somehow, he’s the reason I cut myself?”
Eric’s eyes fill with tears. “I love you, Natalie. I don’t want you hurting yourself-”
“And I don’t want to feel the way I’m feeling. I don’t want to live this life we’re living. Only one of us can win here, Eric.” I push the “start” button on the coffee maker. Eric wraps his arms around my waist; I wiggle free.
“What?” he asks.
“I don’t want you to touch me. A hug isn’t going to fix this. I don’t even know if I want it to be fixed.”
“What do you mean you don’t know if you want it fixed? You want to cut yourself?”
I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I can’t believe I was so reckless as to let my husband find out I’ve been cutting. Shouldn’t I be more ashamed of the cutting than the fact that he found out?
I sigh. “No, Eric, I don’t want to keep cutting.” I force myself to say it, even though I don’t totally believe it. “What I’m not sure of,” I continue, “is us.”
Just then, the boys open their bedroom door and race down the hallway screaming “Daddy!” because he’s never home when they wake up these days.
“Hey guys!” Eric turns up his daddy-charm and sinks to the floor as the boys crash into his