Page 30 of The Catalyst

“They’re on their way back,” Judy adds, her hands clamped together as if praying to God not to let me run out of here like my ass is on fire.

I decided to give Nigel a chance, arealchance, and the bastard threw it in my face after only a few hours. Imagine what he could do with a couple of days or weeks. Hell, maybe even months.

“It’s too damn late, Judy. I’ve sat around for an hour, which is an hour longer than he deserves. If he ever speaks to me again, I’ll kick him in the balls.”

“Please—” she tries again when I exit the bedroom, but I don’t let her finish.

“Stop, okay? Did you think we would just be a happy foursome going on double dates and shit like that? If that’s why you became my friend, you wasted your damn time and should cut your losses now.”

I turn on my heels, even as Judy gawks at me like I slapped her, and rush down the stairs. I already feel bad about what I said, but this is something I do. When I’m upset, I lash out and have no real control over the shitty things I say.

I’ll apologize to her tomorrow. Right now, I have to go home and deal with the wrath of my mother, which will probably end with another bruise on my cheek. The last one has barely faded, and this one will be just as meaningless as the last. Not that abuse is ever acceptable. My mother will probably figure out that I’ve been fucking Nigel regularly and see it like I’ve mutilated my body for sport.

I charge out the front door just as Nigel’s signature blue pickup speeds down the street with Ronan’s brown sedan behind him.

I guess when Judy said they were on their way, she meant they were about to be here.Whatever. I don’t need his bullshit. I gave him a chance, and he fucked it up as soon as he could.

Holding my clothes under my arm, I force my legs to go as fast as they can without making it obvious that I’m running from him. At most, it's a power walk.

“Beth, wait!” Nigel calls to me as he slams on his brakes beside me, but I’m so beyond done with him.

I don't want to look at him, hear his voice, smell his scent. At this point, the thought of him touching me makes my skin quiver. One can't go back from that, can they?

Screw him for putting me through this. I'll probably think of something to take a jab back at him tomorrow, probably more vile than fucking his best friend.

I've already done that.

“Fuck you!” I sneer at him, but the asshole is persistent, if nothing else. He jumps out of his truck, not bothering to park it in the driveway, and dares to grab my arms and spin me to face him. His jaw barely relaxes so he can speak before I jam my knee into his crotch. He foresees the move and blocks the impact by clenching his thighs together, but from the agony on his face, the pain factor is still there. It's a win, nonetheless.

I pull my hand back and smack him across the face, a move he did not anticipate or maybe he was too focused on the pain in his leg to prepare himself.

Before I can turn and run, Nigel shoves his shoulder into my stomach and throws me over it. A shriek of fear of being dropped and shock falls from my lips as I cling to his back.

This is the second time tonight he has manhandled me like this.

“You fucking piece of shit! Put me down, or I’ll cut off your balls and staple them to your forehead while you sleep!” My throat protests from the volume I use, and the last word cracks against the tip of my vertebrae.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls before slapping my ass so hard I scream in pain. “The sooner you get that through your head, the better.”

“I will fucking end you!” I roar at his back with the fury of a thousand suns on a collision course and kick him in the stomach. “Someone call the cops!”

“Not happening, butterfly.” He carries me up the stairs, Oisin standing by and watching the display cautiously.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Oliver's voice roars as he walks out of the kitchen and my eyes find his.

"Someone get this fucker off of me!" I scream before punching him in the back as hard as I can, which does nothing to stop him. "We're done, Nigel. Completely fucking done. I'm through with your man-child bullshit! Let me go!" I demand, but he is unmoved as he approaches his room.

“Anyone so much as knocks on this door, no matter what you hear, you’re dead!” Nigel calls out as if his word is law.

My gaze finds Oliver's and I plead with him. I have no clue why it's him I look to, but what I see on his face freaks me the fuck out.

Worry.

It's in the eyes of the man who should feel nothing at all. If he's worried, that's not good.

Nigel slams the door shut and I try my best to remain calm as I say, “You’re the one who’s dead if you don’t put me down! I’m not a sack of potatoes.”

“Oh, you want down? Why didn’t you say so?” He throws me down on the bed as if I weigh nothing and I glare up at his infuriating face. He’s downright ugly with rage and it's directed solely at me.

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