Page 24 of Breaking Storm

He shrugs. “Not much to say.” There’s a pause before he continues, “Does it make you uncomfortable? Is this the end of our friendship because I’m—”

I pull him in, smack his back, stepping back to say, “Not a chance. You and I…” my finger flicks between us. “… we’ve been through so much. You’re the only one who knows aboutherand what James has done.” Tears burn my throat, so I swallow hard. “I’m just sorry you couldn’t talk to anyone about it.” Tears streak our faces. “We’re in this for life.”

We give a shoulder hug, joined by a pat on the back, wipe our face, and scan the beach. From here, no one is around to see us. When our eyes meet, we laugh at our girly moment.

He smacks my chest. “We good?”

I smile, toss my arm over his shoulders, and start walking. “Better than good.” With a devious grin, I add, “I know it’s tempting, but don’t go grabbing my ass or dick. Teagan will get jealous.”

He shoves me to the side and lets out a loud howl. “You’re an ass.”

Sean’s confession has somewhat softened me.

Back at the doctor’s, Teagan is stitched up, waiting for us with a scowl. I bring out the best in her.She lives on a diet of anger, fear, and frustration. I wish things were different between us, and the night of our wedding never happened. But as long as James continues to blackmail me, I can only wish.

Chapter 11

KATIE IS ONE REASON I hate the gang women. They’re obnoxious and violent, bringing out the worst in me. I smirk when I recall punching and kicking her. My fingertips touch the bandage covering my stitches and I relinquish the small win. Now I’m thrown into the life of a thug’s wife, already immersed in brutality, and have to learn to co-exist with these vicious, superficial women. A life of fake nails, hair, and plastic enhancements. The leaders of the streets can afford to support their wives’ desires—an attempt to retain their youth. Katie isn’t married, but her daddy is high on the food chain, leading the beat in Cicero, and paying dues to Joey’s dad. He’ll do anything for his psycho princess. Thank God Erin is normal.

I miss her and my friends from college. Tessa texted me today, asking if I was going to register for classes, which start in a month. My back hits the couch and I let out a loud sigh. School keeps me grounded. It’s the only way for me to make a better life for myself. I thought my father understood that by letting me go. But like always, he failed me once again.

With my computer on my lap, I browse the school website for available classes for this coming semester. I’m in my last two years, with a focus on my major in psychology. Biting my lip, I browse, read, and mark what classes I’d like to take. More like pretend to take.

Sean plops down on the couch next to me, knocking the laptop from my lap, and asking, “Whatcha doing?”

Ever since Joey and Sean returned to pick me up from the doctor’s, Sean’s been acting weird. Like he’s no longer cocked and ready for DEFCON 1. He’s sweet and fun, but now, he appears lighter. His smile has been a constant, and this morning I caught him singing to a Taylor Swift song. I busted out laughing even though he swore he heard it on the radio, and it stuck in his head. I let him know I wasn’t buying it. My guess is he secretly downloads her songs.

I reposition the laptop and ask, “What are you so chipper about?”

“It’s nice out. Why are you sitting inside?”

Lowering the laptop lid, I tip my head toward him. “I’m browsing class schedules for this coming semester.”

“Nice! Joey gave in, huh?” I shake my head. He leans against the armrest, facing me, and adds, “Teagan, you have to ask him.”

I place the laptop on the table, and cross my legs, tearing off the wash tag from my shirt. “He won’t let me. The thought of being denied school along with everything else…” My sad eyes find his. “I’m holding onto my dream for a little longer before he wrenches it from me.”

“You’ll never know until you ask.”

“So I can witness his self-righteous attitude when he says no? Besides, it’s pathetic I should even have to ask him.”

“Whether you like it or not, this is how our world works. We all sacrifice something.”

My head rolls to the side, and I cock an eyebrow when I ask, “Oh, what have you sacrificed?”

His only response is a smile. He takes my hand, yanks me up, and we walk out into the backyard. The sun is bright, so I sit on the comfy seats under the visor. From the outdoor refrigerator, he retrieves bottled waters, and in the cabinet above it, some pretzels and nuts. He pours them into small bowls, places them on the table, and sits in the opposite seat. Sean has a nice tan going, and the sun has lightened his hair.

Shoving his hand in the pretzel bowl for a handful, he pops them in his mouth like popcorn. There’s a twinkle in his eye and a soft blush on his cheeks. He’s up to something.

“Are you going to tell me why the sun has parted the clouds, a halo has fallen on your head, and you’re vibrating like an electric massage chair?”

“Tsk, tsk. Too cynical.”

“In our environment, cynicism wraps its tentacles through our hearts and minds.”

“How poetic.” He shoves the rest of the pretzels in his mouth.

I glance out into the narrow yard. It’s claustrophobic inside and out. The days of separating myself from these toxic elements and people are gone. My so-called husband obliterated what independence I had left. A man full of bullshit reasons and secrets.

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