Page 25 of Letting Go

“Don’t,” I snarl. “Don’t say a word. You’ve done enough.”

My heart feels like it’s breaking, exploding, burning up and collapsing in on itself all at once.

And the only thing I know for sure?

“Get. Out.” I never want to see either of them again.

Chapter 10

After I kick Satan and his teenage mistress out, him in nothing but boxers, her in my goddamn bedsheet clutching her clothes, I slam the door. Then I pause, yank it back open, and chuck his car keys out onto the lawn.

But not before I take the house key off the ring.

Because I’m angry, not stupid.

I stand there for a second, just breathing like I might spontaneously combust if I don’t. Watching them fumble across the yard like some half-naked, shame-drenched walk of sin. She’s holding the sheet like it’s armour. He doesn’t even look back. Probably too busy wondering if I’ll torch his car.

His taillights disappear down the street. Jesus. He slept with a girl he’s known since she was a kid.

He slept with my sister.

I don’t know why I still can’t wrap my head around it. Maybe because somewhere deep inside the rotted ruins of me, I still thought he had a line. Even when I thought it was McKenna, HIS coworker, I had doubts. But Keira?

My baby sister with the glitter pens and panic attacks?

God. I need a drink.

I march into the kitchen with all the grace of a war-torn banshee, open the cabinet and grab the first bottle of wine I see. Cabernet. Expensive. For happy occasions, how fitting.

I rip the cork out with my teeth. Okay, I try before grabbing the corkscrew. But the vibe is there.

No glass. I drink straight from the bottle like a goddamn cliché. My lips stain red. Good. Let the whole world see what betrayal tastes like.

The tile feels cold under my heels. My throat burns. My heart?

It’s just… quiet.

Like it packed a bag and left my body twenty minutes ago.

I lean against the counter and slide to the floor, wine clutched like a lifeline. My breath hitches. My mascara’s probably halfway to my chin. Somewhere, in the distant horror-movie echo chamber that is my brain, I hear Hans saying, “Don’t tell anyone.”

God, Hans. You were right. You bastard.

And I was stupid.

So, so stupid.

I thought Mike would never.

I thought I’d distanced myself enough, that it wouldn’t hurt.

I never thought he’d ruin me like this.

But he did.

And the worst part?

It still doesn’t feel real.

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