Page 54 of The Trust We Broke
“Zach!” The word comes out on a bark. “I. Am. Not. Dying. Just go.”
The lock clicks, and I push the door open before picking her up again. “No.” Instead, I carry her straight to the bathroom and place her down on the toilet. “Sit there, Luce.”
“Stop calling me ‘Luce.’”
I get the taps running in the bathroom she doesn’t know I helped install. Every single tile on the walls was put in place by the hands now about to help her.
Once the water rumbles into the tub, I turn to face her. “Or what? What will you do, Luce?”
Pink hits her cheeks like it always used to when she knew I was about to make her take something she wasn’t sure she wanted.
Just the act of forcing her was enough to make her love the fuck out of it. When we were done making out, she’d cling to me like a damn koala, kissing my neck and chest and lips over and over again until I laughed.
I’d force the intensity to get us started; she’d break it at the end.
The only sound is the rush of water as it hits the tub. Steam starts to rise off the surface. Bubbles form as Butcher’s words come back to me for the billionth time.
Unfinished business is the kind of thing regrets are made of. Whichever way it goes. Maybe you’ll regret not getting closure. Maybe you’ll regret never getting the chance to show her she was wrong. Maybe you’ll regret never recommitting to the one woman you were meant to be with for the rest of your life because she made a mistake. Or maybe you’ll regret never telling her what a cunt she was to you.
I don’t know what this is as I reach for her hand to help her stand.
Is it a revenge fuck?
Is it the start of something new?
Is it simply closure?
For the sake of my mental health, I should probably know. But seeing the bruise on Lucy’s face is enough to make me stay, even though I don’t have any answers.
Instead, instinct takes over and I reach for the hem of her T-shirt, but I catch sight of her hand again. The tan line.
So, I ask the question I’m dreading.
“Are you married, Luce?”
15
LUCY
“No, I’m not married. I was engaged. But I’m not anymore.” I force the words out, even as my teeth chatter.
Grudge runs his thumb over the line on my finger, and every stroke causes my heart to skip a tumultuous beat. “Recent?”
The huff sounds more like a sob when it escapes me. “Very.”
“Your decision?”
“Technically, yes. But given he’d been cheating on me with a woman called Fleur for many, many months, I was simply doing what he didn’t have the courage to.”
The corner of Grudge’s mouth twitches up in a sarcastic smile. “I guess karma is real, after all.”
“Fuck you.” I snatch my hand away. There’s a cruelty to his words that I hate, especially when I’m filled with embarrassment that I allowed myself to be treated so badly. “You know what? Get out.”
But he doesn’t move.
How did I not notice when I came to look at this apartment that the bathroom’s the size of a postage stamp, and clearly not meant for two people?
Because I’m suffocating.
