“I do trust you! I just don’t trust . . .”
“Milo,” Eliana supplied. “What a cliché. Are you going to hit me with a‘you’re taking it the wrong way’now? As if I have no willpower of my own and am simply a whore to Milo’s desires?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it, having been about to say that exact phrase.
Eliana took a deep breath, a knowing look tightening the corners of her eyes, before she cast a nervous glance at the bedroom door and lowered her tone. “When I questioned you about your phone, you asked me to trust you. Every time you’ve gone on a trip, I’ve trusted you. I’ve trusted youto provide for our family. I’ve trusted you to be faithful. Why is it so difficult for you to offer me that same trust?”
He swallowed hard against the retort on his tongue, drowning in the weight of his remorse, his fear and anxiety, hisangerover knowing he’d lost. A foreboding feeling made his throat feel tight—telling him that he’d lost much more than just this one disagreement.
So when she gave the girls kisses at the door a few hours later, Jesse watched, feeling disgruntled and forgotten. Jealous of the attention his own daughters were getting. Especially when she only offered him a perfunctory peck to his cheek, a display he realized was only for the girls’ benefit. She turned and walked to the car where Milo waited, a smug grin on his lips.
Jesse watched as Milo bent down to mumble something to her, and he saw the quick smile she flashed him. He watched as Milo took her bag, settling it into the trunk. And he watched as Milo guided her around to the passenger door, a hand on her lower back, before opening the door with a flourish and making her giggle.
It was so fucking obvious.
Jesse’s chest tightened, his fists clenching, but Abby and Zoey’s presence kept his feet planted—trapped and forced to endure the cozy scene.
Eliana gave one final wave before ducking down into the car. Milo shut the door and began walking back around, but a moment before opening his own door, he glanced back up at Jesse and . . . winked.
The motherfuckerwinkedat him.
Rage rose, clouding Jesse’s vision in a red haze, but then Milo was pulling out of the drive, the girls were waving, and Eliana was gone. He wanted to call and demand she come back, but she’d never believe him.
She’d just say that he was imagining it. That Milo wouldnever.
Jesse scoffed.
She had Milo so far up on this fucking pedestal—all because he’d given her a fucking job. Sticking his fucking nose where it didn’t belong, sniffing aroundJesse’sfucking wife.
He was so fucking confident. So sure of himself. A man likehimwould never think thathislife could be flipped just as easily. Thathiswife could be swayed.
A desire for revenge rose quickly within Jesse, bitter and dark. He didn’t even want Bea. He wanted his own damn wife. But if he couldn’t have what he wanted . . . then he could at least return the favor.
18
RAGE
Mitch. I LOVE this guy.
Does the best friend get her own story? Is she a spy?
I think Brielle may be overestimating how much Josh has to offer.
“What did you say just then?” Eliana asked, eyeing Milo’s smirk as they pulled out onto the highway. She’d caught a glimpse of Jesse’s expression as the car had turned around in the drive, and he certainly hadn’t been happy about the trip, but in that moment, he’d looked to be on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Eliana wouldn’t have been entirely opposed to the idea, even considering the mess he would undoubtedly create with the inconsiderate explosion. It would be on par for Jesse—making messes he had noplans to clean up.
“I didn’t say anything,” Milo answered.
Eliana squinted at him. “Mmhmm, so I suppose his sudden expression of murder was simply in response to the cold front moving in early.”
“The cold is unpleasant,” Milo answered, his cheeks darkening as he cast her a sheepish glance. “Imayhave winked. Just to fuck with him a little. Give him a little extra incentive.”
A flare of something blazed to life within Eliana. Why that was, she refused to consider. It was immature, what Milo had done, but even more so . . . was the fact that she enjoyed it. And, if she were being honest with herself, knowing it was immature did little to change her feelings on the matter.
“It could backfire on us,” she thought aloud. “If he starts panicking.”
Milo snorted. “The manispanicking. I told you he’s always cared for you.”
“Shitty way of showing it,” she said, turning away to look out the window, watching the hills pass them by as they left town. She thought through his words. “But if you are right, how does making his panic worse help our case?”
