Page 9 of Forbidden Vows

“Right.” My hand falls away from his face. I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. I swallow the lump of tears in my throat. “Still. You should have someone look at that.”

“I said it’s fine.”

I look away from him, my face heating from the rejection. I wait a moment before speaking, fearing my voice will betray my hurt. “Who did this?”

“No one.” He storms toward the bed. Lying down, he throws an arm over his eyes, as if to shield himself from the sight of me. Wincing, he brings his arm back down beside him on the bed.

Our bed. His bed.Theirbed. He and his randy girl, Candy.

I follow him, still trying to dab at his face. “Let me at least get the blood cleaned up?—”

“Leave it, Cleopatra. It’s nothing.”

I murmur, “I need to get a few things. Then, I’ll be gone.”

Pain from his rejection pricks my chest. I go to the sink and throw the paper towel in the trash. If he doesn’t want my help, fine. I won’t continue to make a fool of myself. He’s done a good enough job of that for me. Brushing past him, I head to the tiny space that passes for a bathroom.

Like other teachers, I carry a large bag as a purse, which I now hold open, filling it with personal care items, my one prescription, and my makeup bag to avoid scaring Poppy with my sparse eyebrows.The familiarity makes the air close in around me, choking me. I can’t breathe. I need to escape this place.

Quickly, I breeze past him as I move towards the kitchen counter where we tend to leave everything. “Did I get any mail this morning?”

He mumbles at me. “Yeah. The red envelope. On the counter. Something from your dad.”

I glance over and see the card; I stuff it into my bag and give Keith one last look.

He’s staring up at the water-stained spot on the ceiling. He looks sad. Defeated. He’s wearing the shame of a man who just got his butt kicked.

I feel bad for him?—

Then he readjusts the pillow that’s under his head. The same one that he later shoves under my ass in that video, raising my hips in the way I like so he can hit that deep spot inside me. A tornado of unpleasant emotions whip through me all at once.

Revenge Porn!

Anger wins out over my other feelings, loosening itself from the wind tunnel and filling me up, hot, sticky, and burning.

“Keith. How could you do that to me?” I hate the emotional whine that’s rising in my voice. “It’s the most humiliating thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“I read your note. It pissed me off.”

“You cheated on me, for goodness’ sake! For months!”

“Yeah,” he snaps, venom seeping into his tone, “But I wasn’t fucking my sister.”

His words land like punches in my gut.

I feebly attempt to stand up for myself, but I place judgment on myself for that taboo, sexy night with Blaze. “Stepbrother. Ex-stepbrother. And we were on a break. I’m sure you were getting your fill of teenage waitresses then.”

“I always knew there was something between you two. I could feel it in the air. And the way he looks at you—he’s always got one eye on you, no matter who he’s talking to.” Keith shakes his head, suddenly, the morality police. “He’s a family member. It’s not right.”

I hurl an insult my kindergarteners would be proud of. “You’re not right!”

I rush to the kitchen counter, taking my hate note in my trembling fingers. I read the final line, the admission I knew I shouldn’t make, the one I only left out of anger, which led to this entire disaster.

When we were on a break and I was in New York for the wedding, I had sex with Blaze, and let’s say I came more that night than I have in the last year with you.

He watches me from the bed with a vague expression as I tear the note into pieces, stuffing them into the garbage that will soon be overflowing now that I’m not here to take it out.

His voice is blank, drained of emotion. “Doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s gone. Down. Deleted. Did you not see my apology post?”

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