Page 40 of Saving Ren
“I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and these are the consequences.” She holds her arms out to the side again. “I fucked up. But now it’s done. I just want to heal my heart and my body, and then I want
. . . no, I need to start patching my life back together. What I don’t need is sympathy. What I don’t need is retaliation. I hate him for what he’s done.” She waves her hand up and down her body.
“Not just this, not just the violence, but what he’s done to our lives, how this is going to impact our kids’ lives. I need your support, but please, please don’t give me your sympathy. That’ll just make me feel like a victim, and I’m not a victim, I refuse to be.”
She looks up, and in turn makes eye contact with each of us as she wipes her nose across the back of her hand and shakes her head.
“I will not let him win,” she almost whispers.
Absolute silence fills the room. I watch her lips and jaw tremble as she breathes in through her nose.
Folding her arms across her chest, she tilts her chin and looks in my direction. “I’m sorry, Gabe, that you had to witness all of this, and maybe in another life, we could’ve given things a try, but right now, in this life, it ain’t happening.”
Grinding my teeth together, I debate on walking away, hunting down her cock of a husband, and kicking the living fucking daylights out of him, but then Jack’s words from earlier hit me. . .
‘What’s gonna hurt more, dealing with the drama she comes with, or the regret of not having tried?’
I lean with both elbows on the benchtop. My head spins slightly as my heart rate slows, and my legs feel like jelly after the adrenaline-fuelled last few minutes begin to calm.
“I don’t see you as a victim,” I tell her quietly. “When I look at you, that’s not sympathy you’re seeing written on my face. That’s me struggling to contain the anger I’m feeling right down to my very marrow.”
I again lean towards her as I try to get my point across without raising my voice.
“I can’t even begin to put into words how fucking pissed off I am every single time I look at you and find another bruise, see the damage he’s done. . .”
Lauren holds her pointer finger up in the air. “Sorry, but I think I’m gonna. . .”
Before she can finish what she’s saying, she spins around and throws up in Jo’s sink.
Chapter 14
Lauren
The bileI’m heaving up burns my throat and I barely have a chance to catch my breath before my stomach cramps again and repeats the action.
I heave so hard I think I’ve wet myself just a little bit. Twice in less than twenty-four hours, my bladder has reminded me of my age. When my stomach finally settles, I cross my arms over the edge of the sink and rest my forehead on them. A hand gently rubs at my back, but I’ve no idea who it belongs to, and I’m too embarrassed to turn around and find out. Not because I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life, but because of my irrational behaviour. I saw Gabe sitting at Jo’s bench when I walked into the room and turned into a crazy woman.
“Take a swig of this, just rinse your mouth if you think it’s gonna make you throw up again,” Jo says as she passes me a bottle of water.
“Thank you,” I mumble, still staring into the sink rather than look her in the eye. I swirl the water around my mouth and spit. Jo must’ve turned on the tap at some stage, and I watch as everything disappears down the plughole. I stare for a moment, contemplating the apology I know I need to make while wondering if the fact my pelvic floor isn’t what it once was is now apparent to everyone else in the room. Hopefully, the fact the trackies I’m wearing are a little big will mean there isn’t an obvious wet patch, and I’m the only person who knows I need to take another shower.
Taking my time to stand upright, I turn and face the room. Gabe is leaning against the opposite side of the bench, Jemma, next to him is sweeping glass into a dustpan. Jo is to my left, leaning her hip into the benchtop, arms folded across her chest.
“Sorry,” slicing my gaze between each of them, I make my apology. “I’ve no idea what the fuck just happened; concussion maybe?” I shrug and give a small smile, then wince as the action tugs apart the split in my lip.
“You’re a fucking lunatic,” Jemma states, moving around the bench and emptying glass from the dustpan into the bin hiding in the drawer next to me. Tapping my leg for me to move, I step aside allowing her to dispose of the dustpan and brush in the cupboard under the sink.
Standing up, she leans against the bench beside me, folds her arms, and raises her brows. I feel like a naughty kid having to explain my behaviour.
“This is very true. I blame it on the meds and the blood loss from my head injury,” I attempt to joke.
“Head injury?” Gabe and Jemma question in unison.
I wave my hand in an ‘it’s nothing’ gesture.
“It’s fine, bled a bit, but it’s all glued back together now. Essex girl remember.” I raise my arm and pointlessly tense my non-existent muscle that’s hidden beneath the sleeve of the hoodie I’m wearing.
I’m rambling, highly aware of Gabe’s striking blue eyes watching me from beneath dark brows and lashes. His lips twitch as if he’s attempting to hold back a smile, and despite everything that’s happened to me over the past eighteen or so hours, he still manages to stir something inside me.
