Page 61 of Wicked Devotion
“Yeah, it’s probably worse than I think,” I say, bile rising in my throat.
“What happened to being true to each other in good times and in bad, Lillian?”
I let out a strangled laugh. “You’re talking about being true to somebody? I was almost shot in my own home because of you. Because you are a lying, selfish piece of shit.”
Wide-eyed, he stares at me as if my words sucked the air out of his lungs.
Throughout our entire relationship, we never had a single fight. Not even a little argument, despite Brady giving me plenty of reasons to start one. But I never did. Instead, I swallowed my frustrations and tried to fix things I didn’t break.
“If I ever meant anything to you, you’re going to tell me the truth. How long has this been going on?”
Brady remains silent for what feels like hours until he leans back against the wall with a deep sigh.
“What exactly?”
“Wow.”
I wonder what I saw in him back then. All that talk about building the life of my dreams with me, about treating me better than anyone else ever could—lies, lies, and more lies.
“The gambling.”
“On and off,” he mumbles, and I shoot him a glare. “Started before we were even dating, but I had it under control, for fuck’s sake. Can’t a man have a hobby? Other guys spend their paychecks on hunting gear and cars. Or hookers,” he adds, as if it would help his case.
“Their money, Brady. Not the entire household budget. Shows how much you had it under control. What’s with that gang? Another hobby?”
He runs his fingers through his hair, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Kinda stumbled into it. I was out with some friends, and there was a guy who kept bragging that he had information about rigged games. It was supposed to be easy money; Iwanted to surprise you with a vacation,” he says, and I shake my head.
“Get to the point.”
“I lost. A lot. So I called your dad, but he refused to send me more money until I paid back the five grand he had lent me. And someone must have overheard the call because then a guy sat down next to me at the bar. Said he had a friend named Randy who gives out loans, fair conditions, and—“
Anger boils in my stomach, and I straighten my shoulders. “You took money from my dad?”
Frommydad, who still works over sixty hours per week at his age, just to provide for my family.
“I planned to redo the kitchen, you know, sinceyoukept complaining about the stove not working properly.”
“Keep your sad excuses. Just so that we’re clear, you used the money from my dad to gamble?”
“It’s like you’re not even listening. I could have easily doubled it.”
I rush toward him, and before Brady can react, my punches rain down on his face and body.
“Who do you think you are, treating me like this?”
He grabs my wrists and yanks me down to his level. The movement causes my sweater to slip, exposing the side of my neck.
“Now it makes sense,” Brady seethes, and I try to free myself out of his grip to put my hand over the hickies Max left me as a farewell present.
So you don’t forget me while I’m gone.
“Makes me wonder what you’ve offered them so they’d let you out. What a great wife, spreading her legs for fucking war criminals the first chance she gets.”
“You are the only criminal I see,” I spit out, and he tightens his grip on my wrists.
“They aren’t here to help you, Lillian. You’ll see what you get for trusting them.”
