Page 91 of Inarticulate

The verbal betrayal didn’t cease as he turned off the water and opened the shower door to reach for a towel. Lyrics continued to haunt her, sinking into her brain, never to be forgotten. Bile began mass production, the churning of her belly making her cling to the doorframe for support. As he began drying himself, she inched out of view, numb to the sound of his ringing cell on the bed between them.

There was no will to move. No voice to scream.

He padded to the foot of the bed, the towel secured at his hips as he swept up his cell and answered the call.

“Dominic.” His smooth, effortless address to her cousin sliced through her skin like a razor. He had a voice. He had a smooth, deep, masculine voice that Dominic had known about.

They had all known, hadn’t they?

“W-what did you s-say to her?” The accusation in his tone pulled a gasp from her throat. They were talking about her. Discussing what had happened to bring her here.

Stormy eyes snapped to hers and undiluted panic came face to face with her pure heartbreak. He dropped his cell to the bed as her lips parted and panted breaths escaped without permission. She raised her chin to combat the emotional assault. “Don’t stop on my account.” Her throat constricted. “I’ll go so you can continue your conversation.”

Hysteria set in, thick and cloying. She lunged for the door, slammed it shut in a vain attempt to stop him chasing her, and then ran.

Her progression was mindless. Senseless. She couldn’t think past the remembrance of his tone, couldn’t breathe through the humiliation. With every pathetic, mimed word and every text-to-voice, he’d degraded her, making her worthless. Making what they shared meaningless.

Why? She wanted to scream the word and have it vibrate off the walls.

Her feet slowed, the questions compiling. Then she heard the sweep of his door, the loud thwack as it ricocheted off the wall, and then his predatory footfalls.

She took the stairs two at a time. There wasn’t an excuse that could ease her, not one explanation that could settle the nausea. She’d fallen for someone who didn’t exist. A future had been planned with a man she didn’t know.

“S-s-stop!”

The violent stutter echoed into the lobby and pulled her up short. Ice shivered down her spine and rooted her feet in place. There was nothing polished or fluid about his speech. It was fractured, split in torturous pieces. Turning wasn’t an option. She couldn’t face him, but yearning took over and her feet swiveled without thought.

He stood at the top of the stairs, his destructive glare shrinking her. His hands fisted at his sides as water trickled from his hair, down his cheeks. His chest was thrumming, large breaths shaking his shoulders. He opened his mouth and she stiffened, preparing for another knife to embed her chest.

“Y-y-you w-w-w…” His lips snapped shut. Horror contorted his features, then it morphed, growing into something more volatile, changing into an emotion she couldn’t fathom—anger.

She stared in fascination, unable to comprehend how he could be the guilty party, yet the one with all the rage.

“F-fuck y-your p-p-pity.”

Each word was maimed more than the last, casting aspersions over every day they’d shared.

“Pity?” She shook her head. “Oh, no. I don’t pity you. Idespiseyou,” she spat. “Idetestyou.” Her lips trembled, her eyes burned. Her world was crumpling at her feet and it was all because of him. He’d created a life that didn’t exist. He’d bathed her in lies and made her fall in love with them. “I’ve been hurt by words before, Keenan. But never have they inflicted as much pain as your silence.”

They stared each other down, his nostrils flaring, her shoulders holding strong.

She grieved for the future they’d lost. She mourned the memories that were now unthinkable. Most of all, she agonized over the pounding heartache making it hard to stand tall. She had loved him. True love. Real love. The feelings that would never have allowed for betrayal and callous deception.

“Just in case there was anything lost in translation…” She glared, taking his animosity head on. “We’re done.”

His chest convulsed harder, up down, up down. In a flash of movement he sank his fist into the drywall, leaving a gaping hole as he withdrew. Then he admitted defeat. She could see it. His shoulders slumped, his eyes lost their ferocity, and he simply walked away, disappearing down the upper-level hall.

She stood immobile. Her feet mere inches from the stairs, her heart mere pulses from its last beat.

Dominic was right. She didn’t know the first thing about Keenan. He was a stranger, a manipulator, and a thief. He’d stolen everything she had to offer—the security of her job, her family, and her heart. He’d taken everything. And she’d let him. She’d given it freely, even after repeated warnings.

“We’re done,” she whispered to herself and walked to the garage. Tears blurred her vision as she opened her car door, sank into the driver’s seat, and focused on her cell in the hands-free station.

It sang to her, offering an escape plan at the press of a button. One she couldn’t pass up. A few taps on the screen later and the monotonous ring carried through her car.

“Savannah?”

She sucked in a sob and squeezed tight to keep it down. “Spencer, I’ve burned out. I can’t do this anymore. I need to come home.”

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