Page 6 of Control

My eyes cut to him. I wanted to throttle him, but I could tell with just one look at him that he was being honest. My issue was with the woman standing in front of me. “How long has this been going on?” I asked her.

Tears filled her eyes as she pressed her lips together. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“You didn’t mean for me to find out at all. And that doesn’t answer my question. How long has this been going on?”

She jerked back at the harshness in my tone but couldn’t seem to be bothered to give me a response. Realizing I wasn’t going to get an answer from her, I looked at the man she’d clearly spent the day with and asked, “How long?”

He didn’t hesitate. “We’ve been seeing each other for six months now.”

“Six months? Well, then I guess you can have her. I figure, based on the fact she and I were together just under a year, you might get a few months with her before she moves on to someone else,” I told him.

Bringing my attention back to Evangeline, I shook my head and felt nothing but disgust. A whole year of my life had been invested into this woman. And though I’d tried hard and put in the effort, I had to admit there was something that felt off. But I never thought it was this. In fact, I’d chalked it up to what I was seeing happen with so many of my coworkers. It seemed they’d fallen into relationships so easily, and most of them had gotten engaged within a year of meeting. Evangeline and I had been together nearly that same time, and I hadn’t even considered buying a ring. The whole time, I had assumed it was just me giving her the time to get things worked out with her career.

Maybe that wasn’t it.

Maybe there was something else at play here.

Timing?

Divine intervention?

I’d been waiting for that thing to happen—the thing that made me know this woman wasthe one. But it never happened. Perhaps it was instinct.

“Ty, can I call you later so we can talk about this?”

I shook my head. “Absolutely fucking not. The time to talk would have been six months ago. We’re over. I’m done with you.”

As I turned to walk away, Evangeline reached for my wrist. “Ty, wait?—”

Yanking my hand away forcefully, I pinned my stare on her and seethed, “Don’t ever touch me again. We’re done.”

Not wasting another beat, I spun on my heels and walked away. It was easy, in theory, to recognize this was what needed to be done. I wasn’t the kind of man who could ever accept any explanation for something like this. The dishonesty, betrayal, and disloyalty were things I’d never be okay with accepting.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel hurt, shocked, and humiliated. It didn’t mean I wasn’t feeling like my lungs were constricting, making it difficult to breathe. That I wasn’t feeling myself break out in a cold sweat or the need to just get home and forget this had happened.

I exited the apartment building, my mind racing with dozens of thoughts and unanswered questions. Whether it was an effort to distract myself from the fact that my life had just been turned upside down or not, I didn’t know, but I found myself offering slight nods of acknowledgment or half-hearted smiles to other people walking on the sidewalk.

Anything.

I was willing to do anything to not allow the full weight of this to settle on me.

By the time I’d gotten halfway down the block, I got the distraction I needed. The sound of squealing tires filled the evening air first. My eyes shot in the direction of the sound and landed on the car that was racing down the street. Perhaps a young kid had decided to do some spirited driving to kick off the holiday season.

The closer the car got to where I was, I quickly determined it wasn’t going to end well. No sooner did I have that thought, the car swerved, spinning out of control and hitting several cars before it finally stopped.

I dropped the bag of food on the ground where I stood, looked to my left, and noted the people standing on the sidewalk, looking horrified.

“Call 911!” I ordered as I took off running toward the car.

I made it to the car and yanked open the driver’s side door to learn my assumption had been incorrect. It was not some young teen out for a wild ride. It was a woman who looked like she might have been in her late twenties, just a couple of years younger than me.

She was terrified, wide-eyed, and had blood pouring down her face from a cut above her brow. The airbag had been deployed. “Oh, God. Please help. Please help,” she begged.

I placed a hand gently on her forearm and nodded reassuringly. “You’re okay. The ambulance is on the way. Are you hurt?”

The woman was blinking rapidly, her eyes darting all around. “Is there… Was anyone?—”

“Ma’am?” I called, my voice firm. When she focused her attention on me, I asked, “Can you tell me your name?”

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