Page 136 of What About Us
“Watch your goddamn mouth when you talk about her.” His voice shakes with rage.
“I always knew you wanted to fuck her. Since day one, I knew. Was our marriage ever even real to you?”
“You fuckingleft me!” he roars. “You left our daughter. You demolished her, Tristen. You demolishedme. Was it ever fucking real toyou, Tristen?”
I clap my hands over my ears and cross the hall, slipping into my bedroom. I close the door behind me, tears coursing freely down my cheeks. I throw open my closet, blindly grabbing whatever I can get my hands on as quickly as possible. Next, I grab a handful of underwear and socks, shoving them all into the overnight bag I used when we went to Bozeman.
Hot, fat tears roll down my cheeks when my eyes land on the bed. It’s still rumpled from sleeping in it last night. Every memory of Hudson inside me lies within the four walls of this house, mostly this room. Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
Everywhere I look, I see him. When I go into the bathroom for my toothbrush, I picture him fucking me senseless in the shower, whispering how good I feel, how I’m made for him. Him shaving in front of the mirror every morning while I shower. Him climbing into bed after a long day of working with Hank or at the bar, exhausted but still full of enough energy to send me into another galaxy with this hands and mouth and cock and his gloriously filthy words.
I throw open my bedroom door and head downstairs, tears blurring my vision. I’m not even trying to stop them now; I couldn’t even if I wanted to. When I get to the bottom, Tristen sits in the same spot as before, and Hudson paces in my periphery. I keep my eyes forward, snagging my patchwork bag off the banister and sliding it over my head and across my chest. I take two steps in the direction of the door, cramming my feet into my slides, then turn and head for the garage.
“Where are you going?” His voice is ragged, exhausted, as he moves in my direction in seconds.
I ignore him and keep walking, knowing if he catches up to me, it will kill me to walk away from him. Pulling open the fridge, I snatch up two insulin cartridges. If my heart wasn’t shattering into a million pieces, I would laugh. All of this over some fucking insulin and a goddamn pump. I cram them in my bag and slam the fridge before pulling open the garage door.
“Tristen, you want to be a mother, go act like one,” he bites out, throwing an arm in the direction of the stairs. She reluctantly gets up, moving across the space. “Dammit, Finnley. Stop.”
Just as he rounds the island, the garage door closes on his words. The second the door clicks shut behind me, I lurch for the car door, a sob busting out of my chest. I chuck my shit in through the open window and yank open the door.
But I’m not fast enough and Hudson is right behind me.
“Will you fucking stop?” he nearly shouts, taking hold of the car door so I can’t open it all the way.
I tug on it. “Just let me go,” I whisper and give the door another weak tug.
“Finnley, stop.” His voice is weak and raw. “Baby, please don’t leave.”
“Don’t call me that,” I sob.
“Why?” The pain in his voice tears me in two and my hand drops away from the door.
Then, his hands are on my shoulders, turning me around and pressing me into his chest. I go willingly, like the weak woman I am, sobbing into his shirt. I can’tnot. It’s like there’s an invisible tether from his chest to mine, but once I’m there, wrapped up in his arms, I know it will be the last time. At least like this. Even if Tristen fucks off back to New York or France or wherever, I can never have him like this again. It hurts too much to lose it.
He runs a hand down my back and presses his palm to the back of my head. “Will you come back inside, please?”
I shake my head. “I can’t be here.”
He lets out a sigh. “Ok, we’ll leave. I can ask Mom and Pop—”
“No. Paige’s things are here. I’ll go to the B&B. I have work to do, anyway, and I…I can’t do this anymore.”
He takes my chin between his thumb and finger and lifts my face to his. “Please, just give me some time to figure out what she wants.”
I shake my head and choke on a sob. “She wantsyou.”
Disbelief crosses his features, then he shakes his head resolutely. “She can’t have me. I’m already yours.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. His words are painful as fuck, but I can’t let myself want it. I can’t. Not when the pain of losing him permanently will kill me when this doesn’t work out. It already is.
“No, you’re not.”
“What?” He leans back, searching my face. His is a mask of pain and disbelief. “Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know how to do this,” I sob, overwhelmed with everything; everything Tristen said about me, everything I feel for him, and the knowledge that sometime, somewhere the other shoe will drop, and I’ll be left alone.
“Do what?” he whispers.
