Page 23 of Tame Me

“I’m sorry, Jane.”

I flicked a wisp of hair out of my eyes. “For what exactly? Lying to me. Fucking dozens of women while we were engaged. Or breaking my heart?”

He reached with his right hand, and I braced for his touch, but he placed his palm on the counter at my side, splaying his fingers as if he needed it for support. “I’m sorry for everything. I’ve missed you.”

“Your words mean nothing to me.” My stomach twisted into angry knots, churning the acid that had remained dormant for a very long time.

His hand crept closer, seeking mine, his dark eyes pleading.

I clenched my fist, clamped my jaw, and rammed my knee into his groin as hard as I could.

Howling, he buckled over and fell to the kitchen floor in a fetal position, clutching his balls.

“You’re a worthless sack of shit. I hope you rot in hell, you bastard.” I stepped around him and ignored the dinging oven as I walked from the kitchen and out the back door.

It seemed like every single person in the backyard stared at me, and with each stride I made toward the wine glass I’d left on the table, I felt more in command of my own mind, and, more importantly, my soul.

Dad glanced my way before he raced inside, however Mom strode to me with her lips pulled into a straight line. “What did you do?” Her voice was vehement, loaded with shock and anger.

“Something I should’ve done years ago.”

Mom’s eyes grew wide. She clutched her chest, and a red flush raced up her neck.

A clap started at the back of the crowd, and I turned to see Aunty Ann beaming as she brought her hands together over and over.

My brother joined her, then raised his fingers to his mouth to release an ear-piercing whistle.

Another couple of people joined in, and soon, everybody seemed to be clapping and cheering.

Except, of course, my mother.

Out the corner of my eye, Alexander rose to his feet, and I turned to watch that piece of shit be escorted from the house by both Mom and Dad.

Tyler bounded onto the porch next to me. “Let’s get this party going.”

He dialed up the music volume, then picked me up and twirled me around. “I’m so proud of you, sis.”

Tears of relief stung my eyes as everything spun past in a kaleidoscope of color and movement.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur, but not all of it was pleasant.

I felt dreadful for creating a scene at my father’s party. Dad, however, was not as upset as my mother seemed to be.

Hours later, after everybody had left, we set about cleaning up, but Mom claimed she had a headache and vanished to her bedroom.

By the time I crawled into bed, I was emotionally and physically drained.

Chapter Eight

The next morning, I could have cut the air with a spoon. Mom fussed about in the kitchen as if nothing unusual had happened, and Tyler, Dad, and I pretended the same.

Mid-morning, Dad offered to drive me to the airport, and I said goodbye to Tyler, and we made promises to call each other soon. I hugged Mom and kissed her goodbye in the kitchen; she didn’t bother to walk me out to the car.

As we drove away, I had a distinct feeling this would be the last time I’d ever return to the home I grew up in. It surprised me that I was at peace with that notion.

“Dad, I’m sorry about what I did last night.”

He placed his hand on my leg. “You don’t need to be sorry. I do. We do. We should never have invited Xander. In fact, I’m terribly sorry that I even spoke to him after what he did to you.”

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