Page 45 of Might as Well

“She was here.”

Was? “Where’d she go?”

The hostess takes a deep breath and rushes, “She left with some guy. Sorry.”

For a moment, I’m stunned. Clearly there has been some sort of mistake. Violet wouldn’t cheat on me.

Right?

I mutter a thanks and walk back outside to my car, attempting to call Violet, but there’s no answer. With a growing pit in my stomach as I remember every single woman who ever did me wrong, who basically said I wasn’t good enough, my mind runs circles around itself. Not wanting to think what the hostess was clearly trying to imply and not wanting to think about the potential reality that may await me, I anxiously drive home, hoping she’s there. Alone.

That ball grows tighter and darker when her car is there as well as a car idling in the street. Just because Violet left with a guy doesn’t mean she’s sleeping with him.

As I park and rush to the front door, it swings open before I can grab the knob. My breath is knocked out of me at the sight of Luukas Lathi, a young hotshot on the team. His shirt is balled in his hands, leaving him in just an undershirt and his pants. His hair is a mess, but I can’t tell if it’s messier than he normally keeps it.

My heart stalls.

This cannot be happening to me.

Again.

But why else would a teammate be at my damn house? I don’t think I introduced the two of them previously, but everyone on the team knows I married a chick named Violet while in Vegas.

“Where is she?” I grit.

“In the bedroom,” he answers easily. His mouth parts, but I interrupt him.

“You fuck her?”Fuck me. I shake my head in disbelief. Why else would he be here? Rage begins to rise within me. “Get out.”

His eyes widen. “Z?—”

“I won’t tell you again.” I push past him, needing to see for myself. This isn’t happening. It can’t be. But Violet’s clothes are flung to the floor. She’s face down, knocked out, with only her bra showing while the rest of her body is covered by her comforter.

This…I never expectedthisfrom her. I slide down the door frame, unsure what to do now. My mind is so fucking numb, all I manage to do is watch her sleep. How could she do this to me? Why would she go find someone else? What was wrong with what we had? Am I no good to her anymore? What the hell was she thinking?

All the warnings my parents and Cal threw at me about how she just wanted me for my money, wanted someone to take care of her filter through my mind. I don’t fucking understand. Did she use me and now she’s moving on to another teammate to use him? It doesn’t make sense but I can’t sort it out in my head either.

Violet tosses and turns all night. It gives me a little pleasure to see and that makes me dislike myself some. I feel as if at any moment I’ll explode, the rage unable to be contained any longer. Did she really sleep with Luke?

Violet groans and sits up with a hand to her forehead, causing me to sit up a little straighter.

“You know,” I start, causing her to startle and look at me with shock. “I’ve sat here all night, thinking. Trying to figure out what I did to deserve this. Trying to figure out how I found yet another woman who ends up fucking a teammate.”

Her brows furrow as her mouth pulls down into a frown. “Zane?—”

I should let her speak. I know. But it’s like there’s a shovel in my hands and I’ve no choice but to dig myself a bigger and bigger hole. There’s an ugliness inside of me. Speaking is the only way to purge it. Even as I hope I’m misunderstanding the situation.

“With Deanna,” I continue as if she didn’t speak, “that was all on me. She told me she was seeing other people. It was a surprise it was Brayden, but whatever. But you…” I shake my head. “I love you so much it fuckinghurtsto be away from you. Life is miserable without you in it. But this? This is unacceptable. I don’t even understand unless you really are the cheating gold-digging bitch everyone worried you might be, but I don’t care anymore.”

“Zane—”

I push myself up and cut her off again. “It’s clear to me now why you were alone. You love to be miserable, so enjoy your miserable fucking life, Violet.”

She has the nerve to gasp as ifI’vehurther. Maybe I have. Maybe she’s innocent. The words poured out of my mouth like vomit, unable to be stopped. I regret them the moment I’ve said them. I wait a beat to see if she’ll stay something, but she doesn’t.

A painstaking ten seconds of silence sucks all the air from the room. Her silence isn’t a denial. It’s confirmation.

Turning on my heels, I walk out of the house devastated that she doesn’t try to stop me, doesn’t get angry and call me a bastard for unfounded assumptions. She just sat there with her comforter clutched to her chest and tears rolling down hercheeks. To hell with her. I refuse to stick around for someone who clearly doesn’t want me again.

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