Page 13 of No Limits

I watch from the front window as he drives away. My anger takes a drastic turn and becomes hysteric as tears burn and burst from my eyes. The ache in my chest is nothing new, but no more welcome than any other time.

Today was supposed to be about us—a day to celebrate when we got together, our relationship, our life together.

And he just left.

Chapter 6

Lochlyngetshomehourslater than he said he would. I’ve already gone to sleep after waiting up for him for two hours. The worst part is that he’s clearly drunk.

I can smell it on his breath as he lies down next to me after stumbling into the bedroom. Aside from it being incredibly unsafe, he also risked his career in doing that. One ticket for drunk driving and he’d be fired on the spot.

On top of all that, there clearly was no emergency or anything that required his immediate attention besides a bottle of booze.

When he climbs into bed and leans over me, whispering my name, I ignore him, pretending to sleep. I do my best to lie still, keeping my hands under my face.

Without giving it more thought or trying to wake me—he either accepts I’m asleep or knows I’m faking—because he rolls over and promptly passes out.

I know it only takes minutes because he starts snoring lightly.

Instead of actually falling back to sleep, I silently seethe for at least an hour. When I do fall asleep, it’s for a fitful few hours.

The sun filters brightly through the curtains come morning. Turning over, I see Lochlyn sprawled on his stomach with the pillow over his face. At some point, he stripped his clothes off, because when he passed out last night, he was still dressed and now his bare shoulders are visible.

The way the covers pull down on one side shows off his rib tattoo, and my fingers itch to run across the words.

With a groan, he turns his head and smacks his mouth before giving a big snore and staying asleep.

It’s hard to be mad at him when he’s peacefully sleeping. But not that hard.

The first thing I do when I get downstairs is start prepping the coffee. Loudly. I slam the cabinets as I get out the coffee filter, shove the decanter back into the pot, and while I’d normally grind the beans with a towel over the grinder to muffle the noise, I don’t this time.

Yes, it may be childish and petty and passive aggressive, but all these feelings rolling around inside me need an out, and this is all I have right now.

Besides, let him be a little irritated, a little annoyed like I am.

Once the coffee is happily sputtering away, I have no idea what to do with myself about breakfast. I certainly don’t expect Lochlyn to cook, nor do I want to wait for him.

But before I can even decide on a cereal, he comes shuffling into the kitchen, hair standing on end, eyes barely open, and a wrinkled but tight t-shirt on with a pair of gray sweatpants.

Without even acknowledging my existence, he walks over to the coffeepot, gets a mug down, and fills it from the still brewing pot before sitting at the island.

He takes one sip before pushing his hand out and resting his head on his forearm with a groan.

Clearly, his head hurts, and while I want to care, I just can’t. Because he left me alone for hours, returning in a less than ideal state. On our anniversary.

That’s why I slam shut the cabinets as I take out a bowl, spoon, and box of cereal. If the fridge made a loud noise when I threw it shut, I’d do that too.

“Shay. Please. I have a headache.” Is he serious right now?

Am I supposed to care?

On some level, of course I do. He’s my fiancé and I love him and want to comfort him. But I’m just so furious still.

“I’m sorry. Am I being too loud for you?” I put a little extra sugar in my tone, though it’s clearly intentional.

“I know you’re mad, but can we please not do this now? I think I’m being punished enough with this headache.” He groans as he rubs his temple.

“Oh, I haven’t even begun to punish you, Lochlyn. You took a call on our anniversary, left me alone twice as long as you said, leaving me to go to bed by myself, and came back drunk.”

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