The pull I felt to him.
The warmth only he could ignite inside me.
The casual comfort that seeped into my bones when I was in his arms.
Fucking all of it.
I would have been in love with him again before I’d even left the hospital.
But they’d never given me that chance.
And according to Bowen’s own words, he would never regret it.
But I would.
Probably on a daily basis. Because not only had they stolen more time from me, but they’d also stolen my ability to trust. How could I ever find happiness again when every person I met would be a suspect from the start? It wouldn’t matter how I got to know them, through work or a chance meeting at a bar. There would always be the lingering suspicion in the back of my mind, questioning whether I already knew them or not. It had only been three days since I’d found out about the betrayal, but I was already hard at work constructing walls as tall as the sky to protect what was left of my fragile heart.
I’d never felt more alone. But I supposed when it came to him running an inventory of his conscience that didn’t matter. If he couldn’t objectively take a step back and realize that it was completely possible there had been a path to my recovery that hadn’t involved the ultimate betrayal, it only served as further proof that he’d do it again.
And not just Bowen. Any of them. All of them.
It was why I couldn’t stay.
Bowen had left me once. I was not emotionally equipped to give him a chance to do it again. Self-preservation was one hell of a motivator. They had tried to protect me, but it was high time I protected myself.
Deciding against talking to my father until I had the chance to take a shower and cry for a short eternity, I headed straight home. The heavy weight in my stomach as I pulled into my driveway amplified when I noticed Mark’s truck only seconds behind me.
“Fucking fantastic,” I mumbled to myself. I would have to talk to him eventually, but I really could have used a few minutes of reprieve before diving right back into another emotional melee.
Standing on the center console, Sugar barked as Mark rounded the hood of his truck, stomping straight to my door. With his jaw hard and his muscles taut, he appeared flat-out pissed.
Whatever. That made two of us.
“Give me a minute, bud.” I gave Sugar’s head a scratch and blew out a breath, hoping it would calm my already frayed nerves. Then I pushed the door open.
Mark backed up only far enough for me to slide out, his large hand slamming the door shut behind me. Fury like I’d never seen from him before glistened in his eyes as he seethed, “You fucking disappear for three Goddamn days, refuse to answer so much as a text from me, but you’re off fucking that asshole like nothing ever happened?”
My mouth fell open as I stared at him in utter disbelief. “Were you following me?” I hissed.
His jaw ticked at the hinges and his large body hovered on the edge of too close. “I’ve been fucking following you for the better part of my damn life, Remi. Lot of good that did me.”
I blinked. Um…what?
Clearly, clearly, I’d been caught in some kind of cataclysmic event on my way home and woken up in a completely different dimension, because there was no fucking way this man had the gall to talk to me like that.
Pressing a hand into his chest, I gave him a hard shove that did absolutely nothing to move him. “You need to back the hell up.”
His eyes darkened as he ignored my command and leaned in even closer. Mark was a teddy bear. A big brother of sorts, caring for me when I was sick, watching chick flicks with me on the couch. Hell, more than once, I’d convinced him to do a home spa night complete with face masks and pedicures. Never, not a single time in my life, had I ever been afraid of him. But as his chest heaved, his bulk looming over me ominously, a rage I never could have imagined rolled off him, forcing a chill down my spine.
“Back. Up,” I repeated, projecting my voice as much as I could. I mustered up a false bravado, but there was still a tinge of fear in those two words. Something Mark didn’t miss.
“It doesn’t matter what I do, does it?” He smiled, the sides of his upturned lips twitching with anger. “You’re too blinded by Bowen and his golden cock to see anyone else.” Acid crawled up the back of my throat as his hand landed on my thigh, sliding under my dress. “Do I get an apology fuck too? You seem to be handing those out today.”
Panic erupted in my veins, and I jumped away, slamming my back against the door, the handle digging into my spine. Slapping at his hand, I attempted—and failed—to duck out from under his arm. “Get the fuck off me!”
And still.
He did. Not. Move.
I was boxed in between his brick-wall frame and the car, Sugar going nuts on the other side of the glass. My fight-or-flight response exploded inside me, but there was no escape. My phone was still in the car, along with my purse and the mace this very man had given me to protect myself with when I showed houses.
I drew in a deep breath, praying the boost of oxygen would calm the panic quickly spiraling out of control.
It was Mark.
It was just Mark.
It was just fucking Mark acting like an asshole, throwing a temper tantrum. Why? I did not know, but he would never hurt me.
“You’re scaring me,” I whispered, switching gears and hoping to appeal to the softer side of him. Wherever it currently was.
His stone face didn’t even falter. “You don’t think I’ve been scared? Watching you fall in love with that bastard day after day, over and over again like I’m stuck in some kind of Groundhog Day loop. It doesn’t matter what I do, Remi, or how many times I do it. You always run back to him.”
I shook my head rapidly. “What are you talking about? I’m not running back to anybody. I’m trying to get away. I stopped at Bowen’s to tell him I was moving to Savannah. I was coming home to tell you the same thing. But now you’re freaking me out. I just want to—”
Nothing else made it out of my mouth before the back of his hand slammed down hard against my face.
“You’re not fucking moving anywhere!” he bellowed.
Pain exploded in my cheek and my vision tunneled as the coppery tang of blood filled my mouth. Unable to keep my feet underneath me, I listed to the side, teetering on the edge of consciousness.
Maybe it was wishful thinking.
Maybe it was denial.
Maybe my brain wasn’t operating on all cylinders, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt he would catch me.
It was Mark for God’s sake.
He would never hurt me.
That was the last thought I had as my head cracked against the concrete driveway, Sugar’s frantic barks fading away into eerie silence.
Bowen
Flat on my back, I stared at my bedroom ceiling from the floor, a box full of Remi’s belongings beside me. Well, Remi and Sally’s belongings.
No matter how mad she got when I referred to Sally as a separate person, that was exactly who she was to me. A beautiful, troubled woman I had loved and cherished every day of our nine months together.
A woman who had died.
Sally had never been more real to me.
After slicing my wrist, I’d gotten on a pretty serious mental health regimen. My doctors were amazing, setting me up with antidepressants that gifted me with a reprieve from the overflowing emotions I couldn’t seem to turn off. I started weekly visits with a therapist who encouraged me to attend an after-hours grief counseling group he ran. I went because I knew I needed the help, but listening to the loss of others did not make my own any easier. If anything, it only made me more bitter.