Page 11 of Breaking Storm

A demand?

To eat?

After what he did to me not even twenty-four hours ago?

This shoves aside any signs of sadness, igniting the swell of maddening hatred. My pulse quickens and I sense a heat crawling under my skin. I take a deep breath, a backdraft emerges, and the short amount of control I had bursts. My actions move faster than my brain. The fork bites into the table, missing his hand, which only infuriates me. I straddle his lap, holding the fork like a knife, trying to jam it into his neck. Joey’s strength tires me. The fork drops from my hand, and when I finally gaze at him, I see nothing. No emotion. No care. No remorse. So, I attack with my hands and nails. Scraping, smacking, and pounding on him. And after a moment, I realize he’s letting me. Drained from yesterday and today, I hang my head to calm my rapid breathing.

When I get an acknowledgment of what he did and an apology, my sorrow howls through the room, out the door, down the hallway, and into the bedroom. I fall into bed, burrow under the covers and pillow, and surrender to sleep.

During the following day, we pass one another as if we’re transparent. Vaporous to each other. We’re silenced into our own reflections. Joey hadn’t said anything about his clothes, books, or condoms I messed with. He simply placed them back.

Sleeping next to him last night was torture. I laid close to the edge of the bed, facing away from him, and squeezed the tears from my eyes. As much as I tried, I couldn’t relax, wondering if he was going to do something to me. My hand kept reaching for my phone to check the time, and before I fell asleep, it was one in the morning. Joey never touched me. He stayed on his side of the bed, reading, until he turned out his light.

It’s the third day ofmarriage and I’m going to keep my weekly lunch plans with my brother, Leo. I can’t wait to see him. We didn’t get to meet for lunch over the past month, due to the wedding. I don’t request permission from Joey because I’m not a slave. While I’m dressing, he asks where I’m going, so I tell him. Of course, Joey assigns Sean to protect me. What a joke. I need protection fromhim. Sean drives me to the restaurant in the Loop where I’m meeting my brother. As I’m walking into the place, I hear Sean behind me.

I pivot on the balls of my feet and ask, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“In there.” He folds his hands in front of him. “Where you go, I go.”

My index finger jabs into his chest, and it hurts. “I don’t need protection from my brother.”

He tilts his head to the side. “I’ll be sitting at another table.”

I blow out a breath, put my back to him, and walk inside the restaurant. Leo is already at the table, and when he sees me, he gives me a hug, and we take our seats. He tips his head in the direction of Sean, and Sean does the same.

My hand rests on his forearm. “You know him?”

Leo taps my chin. “I know everyone.”

I let out a laugh. “Okay, Mr. Popularity.” He smiles at me. “No, really, how do you know him?”

“Teagan. We all played in the park when we were kids. You, too. They’re best friends. I’ve known Sean for as long as I’ve known Joey.”

My glance falls on Sean. He’s scoping out the food brought out from the kitchen to tables near him, often checking on me above the menu. “You played with Sean and Joey?”

Leo puts down his drink, and says, “Yes. We were young.” He holds up a hand before I can say anything else. “And I still see and talk to Joey from time to time.”

I give him a sour look. “Why?”

He scoots back in the chair, smooths down his tie, and asks, “What’s up, Monkey?”

Monkey. This nickname stirs emotions, and for the hundredth time, I bat away the tears. Leo is the only one in my family who understands me. He’s stood up and tried to protect me when my dad had wanted to teach me a lesson for talking back or disobeying him. My brother’s been a loyal friend even though he’s embraced this life. We agree to disagree, yet still have each other’s backs.

I browse the room before observing him. “I want a divorce.”

A loud bellow comes from him. “Like the rest of us.”

“Shut up! You’re married to the love of your life, Isabella. By the way, how is she?”

“She’s doing great.” He puts his hand on top of mine. “Give it a chance. It’s only been a couple of days.”

I slip my hand out from under his and stare into my lap. “A couple of horror days.”

“Is this you being dramatic, or did something happen?”

Leo is my brother. Family. Would he fight for me, knowing Joey raped me? Want justice? Would he blame me for it? I find a hanging thread on my napkin, pull at it and the thread unwinds, growing longer. For some reason, this thread seems like an omen of what’s to come of Leo’s and my relationship. Will we grow apart? I’m unsure whether I should tell him, but the acid in my gut hasn’t dissipated. Maybe I need to confide in someone.

I study him for a moment and say, “On our wedding night…” My eyebrows collapse inward. “… Joey raped me.”

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