I wanted to walk again. I wanted my dick to work like it used to.
The memory of the accident flashed behind my eyes, and my jaw clenched so tight it ached. If the motherfucker who hit me hadn’t killed himself, I would’ve done it for him.
A familiar, cold pressure began to crush my chest, making each breath a conscious effort. My throat felt thick.
“This is bullshit,” I snapped, slamming my palm against the armrest. “I should be walking by now. Why the fuck am I not walking?”
Michelle inhaled slowly, like she needed to borrow calm from the air around her.
“Oak, you were in a serious car accident. Multiple fractures in your femur. A crushed kneecap. Spinal trauma. You’re making progress—but it takes time.”
I ground my teeth. “Not fast enough.”
“Pushing too hard will set you back.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then maybe I should just quit.”
Her mouth tightened, but she didn’t flinch the way I wanted her to.
“That’s your choice.”
I grabbed the wheels and shoved myself backward. I didn’t want to do this shit today. My body hurt. My pride hurt. Everything fucking hurt.
And on top of that—
The door to the workout room opened, and I already knew who it was before I looked.
Jordin.
And him.
Fucking Ciarán.
My whole body coiled. It always did when I saw them together.
Seeing them was like someone picking at one of my open wounds over and over with a smile.
For six months, Jordin had been by my side daily, and he was always by her side. The irony was a bitter pill I had to swallow daily. Wasn’t it both funny and pitiful? My wife and her boyfriend.
I turned myself around to watch them walk my way.
Jordin looked good. Too good.
She wore a flowy white dress, and looking at her still made my chest ache.
She always looked good. I remembered when just seeing her would make my dick hard as a diamond.
Now it just lay across my thigh—dead weight.
And next to her, standing too fucking close, was him.
We hadn’t talked about him.
We talked about everything—her staying in Tampa until I was better, her making Miami her permanent residence, about postponing the divorce until I was better.
But we never talked about him and who he was to her.
I didn’t even dislike the guy.
