Page 145 of Only With You

I don’t flinch or move. I apathetically stare at him despite how flushed his face is with rage, how his body shakes beneath the anger, and how close his palm is to my cheek.

“Hit me.” I step closer, bringing my hands behind my back. “Do it. Hit me. Please give me a reason to get a restraining order.”

He doesn’t get to move a muscle or open his mouth when Saint stands between us, blocking John from me.

“Get out.” The ice in his voice freezes the heated atmosphere. “Get out. I won’t ask again.”

John drops his hand. “Landon, I’m?—”

Not sparing him a glance, I spin on my heel, head up to my room, and slam the door behind me.

My entire body shakes, anger rolling down in harsh waves. Each lap of rage, growing and crashing harder against me until I feel like I’m choking on the bitterness and the vileness of the memories.

Forget,move on,meet me halfway. It’s all he wants, all he cares about. He doesn’t want to talk about the past, doesn’t want to acknowledge what he did, doesn’t want to taint the version of the man he believes he is. Because in his eyes, despite hisflaws, he’s a good father, a man who has sacrificed a lot for his family.

He may have done that for Lucy, Ashton, and his wife, but I don’t recall him ever doing that for Mum, forme.

I waited because he promised he’d come back for me. He promised he’d be back. But I was nothing but an afterthought to him.

“Fuck.” I try to steady my shallow breathing, to push past the darkness I’m drowning in, but I can’t focus on anything other than the guitar on the stand. I grab it, ready to smash the damn thing, but it stays suspended in the air.

“Welcome to the club of daddy issues and bullshit. We meet every Sunday at five o’clock. Hammers are included, or if you like bats, those are available, as are sledgehammers, my favorite.”

I blink, the muted sounds and my tunnel vision slowly fading away as I recognize that animated, chirpy voice.

Peering over my shoulder, Saint has a strong, firm grip on the body of it. He smiles at me. It’s not his usual obnoxious one but an understanding one.

“Piss off.” I try to jerk it away from his hold, but he doesn’t let it go, only holds on to it firmly. “Mate, get out of my room. Now!”

“I will if you come out with us.”

“I’m not going to Liquid, and if you ask one more time, I swear I’m going to punch you.” I meant it and he knows that I do, but he still doesn’t budge. “Get?—”

“We’re not going to Liquid. We’re going to therapy.” He beams.

“I don’t want Reid right now.”

“We’re not going to see Reid. Come on, or I’ll force you and that won’t be pretty.” He takes my guitar from my hand and sets it back on the stand, then strolls to the door. “I won’t ask questions and you won’t either. Deal? Deal.” As he walks out, he backtracks, doing a double take on the mirror. “Is that mine?”

I nod.

“She was in here, wasn’t she?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for me to answer as he grabs it and walks out. “Sorry, it has sentimental value. I’ll get you another one. And hurry up, don’t make me force you!”

“I’ve never been to a rage room before,” Jayden says as he puts on the coveralls Saint handed to us.

He wouldn’t tell us where we were going until he pulled up to Happy Purging, a large building that has rooms you can break shit in.

Saint gave us two rules. Wear the protective gear at all times. No touching his playlist.

He said he comes here occasionally, because it’s his happy place and even has a key, because he gives the guys who work here tickets to the games. So we won’t get in trouble for being here late.

“Here.” Jagger hands me a pair of safety glasses. “I’m sorry about John. I swear I was trying to?—”

“It’s not your fault. How much did you hear?”

The guys go quiet and that’s enough for me to know they heard everything. How could they not? We weren’t exactly being quiet.

“Hey!” Saint claps his hands as music starts to pour out from the speaker over us. “Come on, let’s break stuff!”

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