Page 5 of By His Rule

With my head held high, I turn my back on him, desperately trying to ignore my rising emotions.

I need to hang onto the anger. If I’m focused on how best to hurt him, then I’m less likely to crumble into body-trembling sobs.

I’ve experienced my fair share of them recently, and my asshole of a boss isn’t worthy of them.

Nor was the first jerk who caused them, but here we fucking are.

The office is suspiciously empty as I make my way back to my desk with my eyes burning and my nose itching with my need to cry.

Fighting the lump that’s growing faster than I can control in my throat, I gather up the few things I care about on my desk and place them in my purse.

I’ve got two photos of me and Tate. One at graduation and another on a holiday last summer. The sight of my best friend makes my need to cry even more insistent. I grab the plant she bought me for my first day that I’ve somehow managed to keep alive, and then leave everything else.

This place was never my home. It was just a stopgap until I found something better.

Unfortunately, that something better hasn’t made itself known.

It gets even harder to contain my frustration when the warm autumn air hits my face.

Sucking in a deep breath, I look up to the sky and silently beg my eyes to contain the tears.

Wait until you get home.

Woman up. You’re stronger than this.

You’re better than this.

I take three steps away from the office I never want to look at again when my watch buzzes with a notification.

I almost ignore it. I’m too lost in my own misery to focus on anything someone might have sent me. Assuming it’s not just a spam email, of course.

Or worse…him.

My heart knots as the face of the man I once believed was the one, fills my mind.

Hopeful now, that he’s finally got the message to leave me alone, I shift everything in my arms and dig my phone from the bottom of my purse, praying it’s someone with some good news. Hell knows I could use a little positivity in my life right now.

And to think I assumed that finding out my loyal and doting boyfriend was actually living a double life, was as low as things were going to get for me…

How fucking delusional I was.

Hendrix: I failed.

“Fuck,” I breathe. So much for some good fucking news.

Lori: I’m sorry, bud.

I stare at my typed message, my thumb hovering over the send button, wishing I could come up with something a little more eloquent and supportive.

He’s worked so damn hard. He deserves more than a fucking fail.

But then, I should know better than most that we don’t always get what we deserve.

Shaking my head, I delete the message. He’ll read those words as pity, and he doesn’t need that right now.

Lori: I’m so fucking proud of you, bud. You should be proud of yourself too. You worked your ass off. Screw the result. It’s a bullshit letter on a piece of paper.

I hit send and the second it shows as delivered, I second-guess it.

---