Page 121 of Forget Me Not

Now . . . I’m wishing he’d stayed home.

“I don’t care. He wants to fuck you. I won’t stand for it.”

“Oh, like Sophie wants to fuck you?”

The air between us grows caustic. Silent. Deadly. Neither of us moves, both of us staring at each other in a battle of wills.

I have to get away from him. I can’t be in the same room as him right now.

“You aren’t the man that I married.”

His hand connects with my cheek, slapping me so hard my head whips to the side as the sting spreads across my skin.

In a flash, he surges forward, fingers wrapping around my throat and a snarl on his face so terrifying, it’s straight out of a nightmare.

“I am your fucking husband and I will not sit around and watch you whore yourself out to another man.”

“Jack . . .” My voice is strained as his fingers tighten, cutting off more of my air supply. “You’re hurting me.”

He stares at me for a beat longer, his face morphing from a gnarled, angry scowl to a look of horror.

Instantly, he releases me, terror on his face.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

He grabs for me, desperately trying to pull me against him when I fight against his hold, but he’s too strong. “Let go of me.”

“Nova. Sweetheart.” He’s panicking. I can hear it in his voice. I’m panicking too. Are we really that far gone that this is what our marriage has been reduced to? Pain and conflict and constant, incessant fighting to the point that I wake up with migraines?

“Stop,” I whimper, tears swimming in my eyes. My heart feels like it’s ripping out of my chest. Like at any moment, I’ll be pronounced dead and this will all be gone.

“No,” he says softly, pushing my hair back from my face. My hands shake; my skin clammy and my stomach sick. I want to go home. I want to be alone. I want to be with the kind boy who used to braid my hair in the summer. Not this stranger. “Shhhh . . .” He presses his kiss to my temple and I can’t . . . I can’t help but find comfort in his embrace because this is all I know. He is all I know.

Without him, who am I?

“It won’t happen again,” he whispers, almost like he’s talking to himself and not me. “Never again.”

I want to believe him, but . . . Unfortunately, that’s what he said last time.

“Nova?” My dad comes around the corner. His eyes go from the tears on my face to Jack, his gaze darkening beyond recognition. I’ve never seen my father look more terrifying.

“Hey, Dad.” I break away from Jack because his grip on my waist is tightening past the point of comfort and I just . . . I can’t tell my dad what’s going on. He’ll hurt Jack. He won’t understand.

“Everything okay?”

I bat my eyes, hoping it doesn’t look like I’ve been crying.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Jack rests his hand at the small of my back, as if sending me a reminder. “We’re actually going to head home. I’m not feeling well.” Dad stays a beat longer, watching me as if he can read my thoughts. The irrational part of my brain causes me to think all kinds of unintelligible gibberish, just in case.

“You’ll come say goodbye to everyone before you do, right?”

I nod, forcing a smile. “Of course.”

His eyes shift back to Jack, standing over my shoulder. Something must pass between them because Jack’s hand drops from my skin, but his presence still lingers like a dark cloud, a demon, holding onto me like a parasite.

Dad nods once, before he steps quietly around the corner without another word.

The breath that leaves me is anything but relieving.

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