Page 113 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
Close it.
Because I don’t know what that means.
But also because I think it sounds…like complete and total bullshit.
He’s still talking, though, so I keep that thought to myself.
Maybe the rest of it will make the first part make more sense?
“It’s like…the more intense hockey got, the worse we were together, and eventually…she became the person you met.” A shake of his head. “I thought marrying her would make it better. Thought if she was secure that I was hers, things would calm down, but that didn’t help. If anything”—he rubs his temple—“things got worse until every time I’d leave for an away game, I’d have to spend the whole time I was gone managing her emotions.”
Yeah, because she’s an abusive, narcissistic psychopath.
Nothing Gray could have done would have made things better.
I’m not saying he’s innocent in all of this…
Just that he’s not the only whose shoulders the blame needs to land on.
“I knew I shouldn’t have started things with you, knew I’d do something unforgivable and ruin what we have. But I couldn’t keep my distance, not once I got to know you. So fucking smart and beautiful and kind.” He moves over to me, settles his hand on the side of my neck, squeezes lightly. “You deserve better than me, Red. But I just don’t have the strength to stay away.”
I wait for a couple of seconds to see if there’s more.
When it seems as though he’s done, I exhale then do something the old Faye never would have done.
I open my mouth and say, “That’s complete and utter bullshit.”
He blinks.
Then again.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not excused,” I say backing out of his hold and tossing up my hands. “Because that is the biggest crock of bullshit I have ever heard!”
His mouth falls open.
“And you can be pissed at me or try to push me away, but you know what?” I glare at him. “I’m not going.”
Forget the hotel, the packing, the car.
He needs to get this through his stubborn ass head.
And I won’t go until he does.
“I thought you were going to say you cheated or God, I don’t know, did something unforgivable like hit her or abuse her or rape her, but your big, soul-crushing secret is that you spent too much time playing hockey?”
His gaze slides away from mine. “My job takes me away?—”
“So explain Kailey and Smitty and Luna and Aiden.”
His mouth opens. Closes. Then he grits out, “What do you mean?”
“They’re managing just fine and neither Luna nor Kailey has turned into a psycho.”
“You’re not Luna or Kailey.” His body tenses.
“But I am like Courtney?”
