By the time Jade has made me my morning caramel latte, and I’m leaning against the counter to enjoy it, there are three more messages from him filling up my phone screen.
Ashton: I have a fight coming up.
Ashton: At the Golden Rings casino.
Ashton: There’s a ticket for you at will call. Please tell me you’ll come.
Swipe, swipe, and swipe.
I should have known Ash would have difficulty understanding the concept ofneeding space.But this is getting a little ridiculous.
“Which one is that?” Jade asks, glancing over from her spot at the register and taking a sip from the coffee mug she’scradling. Her hair is a fiery red today, with bright orange tips that pair well with her neon yellow nail polish. I wonder how long this look will last before she colors it again.
“Ashton,” I grumble around the rim of my cup.
“Ah.” She chuckles. “The puppy dog.”
Maybe a week ago, I would have agreed with her. Ashton, despite his size and muscles, comes across like a lost little puppy, doesn’t he? So eager and enthusiastic. I’d let that enthusiasm sweep me right off my feet, blind to the fact that he isn’t a puppy at all.
Ashton is an attack dog. Built to fight.
Built to hurt.
My thoughts must be showing on my face, because Jade sets her drink down on the counter, lips folding into a frown.
“How’re you holding up today, Syd?” she asks me gently.
How can I possibly sum up all the feelings swirling inside me after the whirlwind of the last few weeks? How do I come to terms with the fact that the not one, not two, butthreemen I’ve involved myself with are not at all what they seemed?
That they’re dangerous.
That they’re liars.
That I unknowingly slept with a married man.
I feel a rage sizzling inside me, a live wire ready to set light to everything in its path. All the work I’ve done over the years to keep my temper in check is coming undone, and I feel like I could snap at any moment.
You could hurt them, like they hurt you, a terrible voice inside me says.
I take a deep breath, pushing that voice down as deep as I can.
“Fine,” I tell Jade with a noncommittal shrug. It’s the one word in the women’s lexicon capable of summing it all up. Saying everything while saying nothing at all. “I’m fine.”
My phone chimes again, and I scowl at it.
“Do men not understand what ‘fuck off and leave me alone’ means?” I ask Jade, swiping the notification away in irritation.
“Obviously not these men,” she says, sounding more amused than sympathetic.
“It’s overwhelming! The constant messages, the gifts! I need a break from it all, I need space to get my head on straight and figure out what Iwant!” I snap. “And how am I supposed to do that with him messaging me every three goddamn seconds?” I slam my hand against the counter, jostling my coffee and making Jade’s eyes widen just a fraction in surprise. Enough to make me realize… I’m throwing a tantrum in the middle of my store.
I am an ocean of calm, I remind myself, squeezing my eyes shut. I count to ten, forcing a wave of calming thoughts to wash over me.
My phone chimes again.
“I’m going to throw it at the fucking wall,” I say in a voice that doesn’t sound calm in the slightest.
Jade laughs.
