As I approached, I saw a light on. Someone was inside with her. My jaw locked. My hands curled into fists as the man turned his face.
Rio.
She chosehim.
She wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes. He walked out a moment later, and Rocco waited in the truck for him.
She betrayed me.
“You’ll be sorry,” I whispered.
My voice shook.
“You’ll be so, so sorry you chose him.”
I waited a few more minutes, just until she shut the door, and then I walked toward the house.
Through the window, I saw her crying. Her face was bruised, swollen.
For a moment, something inside me twisted, something that almost dragged me through the door to hold her, to ask what happened, to tell her I was here now.
But the voices kept replaying the image of Rio’s arms around her, hissing that she did not care, and my fists tightened until my knuckles burned. I rushed inside.
The front door flew open under my weight. I stood there like a beast staring at her. My breath tore in and out as she lifted her head. She gasped, pushed up from the chair, and stepped toward me. But when her eyes met mine, she backed away.
My foot dragged across the threshold. The door behind me slammed into the wall with a crack that made her jump.
Good.
“You let him touch you,” I growled. “You let him put his hands on you.”
She shook her head quickly, too quickly, breath hitching like it hurt. “It’s not...he was just helping...”
My laugh came out sharp, bending in the middle like something snapped inside it. “Helping?” My tongue curled around the word like it disgusted me. “You cry for him. You hug him. But you can’t even look at me without backing away?”
I took another step. She took another back. The wall behind her waited.
“You think I didn’t see?” My voice cracked. “You think I didn’t watch you choose him over me?”
“I didn’t choose...”
“Yes,” I snapped, louder now, harsher. “You did.”
I moved closer. The house was closing in around us like it knew something was about to break. My fists throbbed, knuckles burning from how hard I had been clenching them, but I couldn’t loosen them. Not now. Not when the image of her in his arms was still grinding against the inside of my skull.
Her lips trembled. She lifted a hand, like she wanted to reach for me.
Or maybe to push me away.
I couldn’t tell.
Didn’t care.
“Good,” I warned, voice lowering to a hiss. “You should be scared of me now.”
Her eyes filled again, tears brimming so fast they blurred her vision. “I didn’t choose him,” she whispered. “He just helped me...”
“You let him hold you,” I whispered back. “You let him be the one to comfort you.”
