“To take Cole and be on permanent Tyson watch after he locks you up in the house,” he confirms what I already knew, and I look away again.
“How can he be so certain that we can get past everything when I’m not?” I ask quietly.
“Because he knows he can’t live without you, but the question, sweetheart, is can you live without him?” he turns the question around on me, and I swallow hard as my eyes tear up, already knowing the answer.
Talen or Michael, whatever his name was, I was using him to try to move forward, to prove I can be without the man who has been in my heart for seventeen years, but it didn’t work.
“No,” I choke, “no, I can’t live without him…”
“And that is why you are still so goddamn angry because you want to try with him. You want to give your marriage another go because you can’t live without him, and you think you're failing yourself by not moving on, by not fighting harder for the divorce,” he states firmly and I flinch, I can’t help it because dammit, he’s right, isn’t he?
“I know you are struggling, Ash,” he whispers, “but instead of struggling on your own, lean on him and let him prove to you that you are the only woman he sees, but also make sure you make him pay still.”
I chuckle out a sob on his last bit before leaning my head on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I admit, “I always saw you as my father…”
“I know, sweetheart and I hate that I didn’t stand by you,” he murmurs and kisses my head. “And I’ll forever be grateful to have that role,” he adds, and my tears fall as we watch Tyson’s little chest move up and down as he snoozes, the beeping still consistent while my mind reels.
Can I try again with him?
Would that make me stupid when I only slept with a guy once, even though he was my rapist and I didn’t know?
Should I sow my oats some more to throw it back in his face?
Or will I forever regret not giving him a chance?
Chapter 30
Trigger
“Thank you, brother,” Anchor says as I hand him the new shift schedule for Rebel’s Honeys employees, and I grunt eyeing the fucker who looks tired.
He hasn’t been the same since he broke up with his girlfriend nearly two years ago.
“No problem,” I mutter as I round the tattoo shop desk, the shop thankfully now closed for the evening.
His printer fucked up, and I was closer than the clubhouse when he called, asking if I was still at the shop, which I was, finishing up with a client, half his full back piece completed.
My back fucking hurts, I’m hungry, and I have the urge to get my ass to the hospital even though Dad has ordered me to go home because apparently Ash will be meeting me there.
“Did your dad mention what he and Ash spoke about?” Anchor asks with concern, and I shake my head.
When Dad called while I was printing the papers for Anchor, he said he and Ash had spoken and that I had to go home —that she wanted to talk to me. Which, considering she has barely said two words to me in three fucking weeks, is a little disheartening.
If she’s going to tell me she’s leaving me, then shit will hit the fan.
It’s time she realized I won’t let her go if she hasn’t realized it in the past three weeks, where she is never on her own, and at night, whether she wants it or not, she’s in my fucking arms.
The morning we woke up in the gazebo, Cole was shouting for us, is proof that her trust is still lingering.
“No, but I guess I’m about to fucking find out, and hopefully I won’t have to take desperate measures,” I mutter as I lock the shop up, and he nods as we both turn, but both freeze at the man walking on the other side of the street, helping some blonde into his car with a slimy smirk on his face.
I recognize him instantly, and I growl fucking pissed because I can’t go after him with Ash waiting for me but Anchor can and I look at him but instead of grabbing his phone he stays completely frozen, confusion on his face, which fucking confuses me. He should be calling for a fucking van.
“Anchor!” I snap, getting his attention, “Call the fucking club for a van!”
“I-I,” he stutters and frowns as he watches the soon-to-be-dead fucker climb into the blue Porshe. “That’s Summer’s supposed boyfriend. Why is he with some blonde if she went back to him?” he chokes, and I look at the man again sharply as my insides churn.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, no…
