“Ex,” I cut him off. “I’m yourex-wife, Brandon. Did you, or did you not, sign the divorce papers 3 years ago?”
He grits his teeth. “You know I didn’t want to,” he hisses close to my face. “You know I wanted you, but you wouldn’t give me a fucking baby, and I couldn’t–”
“Cut the crap, Bran,” I tell him. “You know it isn’t my fault that despite trying everything we possibly could, nothing ended up working for us. You know it wasn’t in my hands, and yet you humiliated me in front of the whole town during that party; called me names that no husband should his wife. If you wanted me, you wouldn’t have acted so savagely towards me.” I swallow the sudden tightness in my throat. “You never really wanted me, did you? You just liked theideaof owning me.” I gently push at his chest and get to my feet, then glance at the girls. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you guys later.” I throw a $10 bill on the counter and start making my way to the door.
“Don’t be a bitch, Nia. Are you seriously going to walk away from me right now?” Brandon calls out as he follows after me. He isn’t drunk; I couldn’t smell any alcohol on him. He’s just naturally this disgusting, which only makes me further question my past choices.
I don’t answer him, and only stop once I’ve reached the bar’s wooden door. I yank it open and look up, and every part of me goes numb when I seehimstanding a few feet from me.
“You’re a whore,” Brandon sneers from behind. “You’re a useless and weak woman who thought she could…”
I let his words fade, because standing before me – with a hand in front of him as if he was about to push open the door and enter the bar – is the painfully incomplete poem of my past. The boy – no, theman– in front of me is a vivid contradiction tothe person I knew 11 years ago. He’s a sculpture now perfected; a mold now solidified.
I would gasp, but his overpowering presence simply won’t let me. I would try to breathe, but his brown eyes are currently holding me captive. I would will myself to move, but his parted lips have paralyzed me in place.
And, when he blinks and runs his wild gaze over me, I’m not sure if my heart is beating at all.
“Nia…” he whispers my name, and I swear to God my entire being crashes against the wave of his voice.
With Brandon now a forgotten piece of nothing, I finally let go of a breath and brave meeting Cass Madden’s searching, all-too-familiar eyes.
4. Cass
She stares up at me like she’s never seen me before. I don’t blame her, especially because 11 years is a long time – enough to change anyone both mentally and physically. And, given how young we were when we last spoke, I am just as dumbfounded to see her standing in front of me – as breathtaking as ever – studying me like I’m a complete stranger, and not someone she once loved.
Nia blinks, and Christ if it isn’t a trigger to my ticking senses.
Her hair is longer, wavier. The blue of her eyes is dimmer than I remember, and the once-prominent freckles on her cheeks were now lighter, like they’ve been airbrushed into subtlety. The lavender dress and leather jacket she’s wearing perfectly complement the gentle curves of her lush body, and drive me insane to the point where I can’t see straight for a moment.
“Are you even listening to me, you slut?” someone chides.
I whip my head up, and see Brandon Jones glaring at the back of Nia’s head with a scowl on his face.
Anger sizzles in my veins. I take half a step forward and roughly grab the collar of his blue shirt. “What did you just call her?” I growl, and when he tries to free himself, I tighten my hold and rock him once before getting in his face. “What the fuck did you just call her, Brandon?” I feel the patrons watching my encounter with Mr. Dipshit Galore, but I ignore their mindless whispers.
“I don’t have to answer you, Madden,” Brandon says. “I can call her whatever the hell I want. She’s my wife, you hear me? She’s my–”
“Ex-wife, Bran.Ex.Wife,” Nia states from my right.
I feel bile rising in the back of my throat. My rage simmers to ice; my palms turn clammy. The words, theweightof them, the truth of it – it makes me lose my hold on Brandon, who takes that as an opportunity to free himself.
“Took the ground right from under ya, didn’t it?” he mocks with a vicious smile on his smug face. “You left her for New York, so her family pickedmeto look after her. Tomarryher. She may have been a sloppy second, butdamnshe’s hot, and I enjoyed every bit of her b–”
I don’t let him finish; I reel my right arm back and punch him in the jaw.
The fucker howls in pain, and I hear a satisfyingpop, which is soon followed by the sound of him crashing against a table and falling onto the beer-stained floor.
A couple of guys help him to his feet, and when he looks at me with murder in his eyes, I sniff and flip him off.
Brandon gives me a once over, and realizes very quickly that he can’t take me. Trembling in anger, he spits blood on the ground and walks past a shell-shocked Nia before heading for the bar’s open door. The former high school jock, the wannabe “Mr. Cool,” thenrunsout into the street like his ass just caught fire.
Some patrons snicker, whereas Nia? Well, she’s frozen in place.
“Hey.” I step in front of her. “Nia.”
She sucks in a breath as she scans my face. “You punched him,” she whispers, then swallows. “You…” She shakes her head in disbelief. “You really punched that dickwad.”
I try not to smile, then test the waters by grabbing her left hand, and have to refrain from cursing when her silk-like skin brushes against my calluses. Christ, how I’ve missed the feel of her touches.
