“But why?” Eliana asked, turning to eye the building once more. Did she want to break stuff? She had previously, but she wasn’t feeling particularly angry at this moment. The realization, along with the memory of how she’d just been contemplating—no, mentallycomplimentingJesse’s choices for where he’d conducted his affair, without feeling even a twinge of emotion, good or bad, was a startling truth to face.
She was numb.
“You told me once about everything you wanted to do. How you wanted to confrontthem. Take them down. Destroy them. But how you had to put your girls and their futures first. And I realized afterwards that if you had to bury your anger and constantly play pretend, you’d probably never have gotten an opportunity to process theemotion of the betrayal. And given what we’re expecting to happen this weekend . . . I just thought this may be a good outlet.” He paused, watching her closely. “We can just go to the hotel, though, if you don’t like the idea.”
Did she like the idea? Eliana started nodding before she’d even come to a decision. She’d been running on vibes all day—why stop now? “Yeah,” she said, “let’s do it.”
Milo’s responding grin was quick, and he immediately pushed the door open, jumping out quickly as if she’d change her mind if he hesitated. Then he was on her side, pulling the door open for her. She took the hand he extended, smiling back in the face of his excitement as he pulled her up and out of the car. Up close, he smelled fresh and clean, like laundered clothes and spicy deodorant. And as she stood for a brief moment, his honey eyes holding her captive, she wondered what his natural scent would smell like—beneath the soap and detergent.
Then she shook her head, stepping away. He didn’t want that from her. Milo was kind, serious, and one of the best people Eliana had ever met, but they were only on this trip in the first place because of their cheating spouses. Besides the fact that this made any sort of relationship developing between the two of them incredibly ill-advised, Eliana didn’t even want to consider another man so soon. To depend on anybody other than herself, until she knew she was capable of being everything her daughters needed her to be. Everything she needed herself to be.
So they walked inside, side by side, and she was careful to keep an extra foot between them. They were both fitted in full-body overalls, with hard hats, earplugs, and face shields, before being led to a room filled wall-to-wall with household items in various stages of disrepair. TVs, tables, appliances, there was even a stove in one corner, and sitting atopeach surface were more delicate items—lamps and vases and glasses and mirrors.
They both selected a bat from the lineup of potential weaponry, and then Milo held his arm wide at the entrance, waving her forward with a challenging lift to his brow as he mouthed, “Ladies first.”
Eliana stepped forward, considering her options. Her gaze landed on a vase of weeds sitting atop a three-legged end table. A flash of lilies came to mind unbidden, and she was moving before she could think twice, rearing back and letting the bat fly.
The explosion was louder than she’d expected as glass shattered into a million pieces, and with it, she felt the tiniest sliver of scar tissue break loose in her chest. Her breathing was harsh, all of a sudden, but surprisingly easier.
She turned to the next table and swung, connecting with the center of an ancient box television, punching a hole straight through the screen. She yanked the bat free and swung again. And again. And with each swing, she felt the rage creep back towards the surface.
The rage towards Bea for the unexpected, bone-deep betrayal. The rage she felt towards Jesse for destroying the life they’d built on a fucking whim. And the rage she felt towards herself for allowing this to happen. For settling into a bad relationship and writing off Jesse’s faults, rather than addressing them. For sacrificing the future she’d dreamed about. For allowing herself to be silenced, and for deluding herself into believing it was love.
Milo may be right, and Jesse may love her, but his bargain-brand love was something she was no longer in the market for. She would never shop for a man’s love again. She’d live to be a hundred, happily single, if that’s all life had to offer.
After a time, the rage began to fade, a simmer on the back burner, and even though the hurt and the pain and the sorrow still lingered, brought to the very edge of the surface, Eliana felt the weight of a burden lifted from her shoulders. Her heart felt lighter, purged, and she took a deep breath, turning away from the television she’d pulverized.
Milo stood where she’d left him, watching with wide eyes—which grew horrified as he took in the streaks of tears tracking down her cheeks. He stepped forward, pulling a plug loose from his ear as he approached. “Are you okay?” he asked, though the sound of the words was lost to the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She answered with a toothy grin, wide and free, as he stopped a mere foot away. His honey gaze fell to her lips before bouncing back to her eyes. He reached forward, brushing back the strands of hair that had fallen loose. But when his hand fell away, his gaze remained, locked on her own.
There was empathy there. Heartbreak and rage, all his own. But there was also something darker. Something scarier. Brought to the surface, along with everything else they faced in that room.
Desire.
“You were right, I do feel better,” Eliana said after a pause, breaking the silence between them. “Your turn.” Then she moved away, skirting his large body and hurrying to a table in the corner with water bottles.
She berated herself for the cowardly retreat, but once the sound of glass shattering reached her ears once more, she couldn’t help but wonder how many rage rooms it would take to piece back the scattered pieces of her damaged heart.
19
CURTAINS
Jesse
The wind was fierce when Jesse stepped out the back door, the chilling gusts bending the trees and setting the girls’ handmade chimes ringing. The gentle tune was loud against the roar of nature, serving as a warning—one final reminder of what he stood to lose. And yet, Jesse blazed right past the signs, with only one thought on his mind.
He’d spent the evening with Zoey and Abby—making them dinner, playing a board game, and then shepherding them through their nightly routines. It was a process he treasured. Their natural companionship and easy humor. That evening, however, he was distracted, working to keep his mind in the moment while he moved through the motions.
Once the girls were in bed, he headed back to the kitchen, knowing he needed to clean up their mess. Hescanned the room, mapping out a quick plan of attack while he scratched at his elbow. Then he dove in, trying and failing to keep his focus on the task at hand, scrubbing and haphazardly loading dishes into the dishwasher. He could clearly visualize the look that would be on Eliana’s face if she were there—the horror at his disorganization.
But she wasn’t there. Because she was withMilo.
So Jesse thought ofthatinstead. An endless loop of thoughts he couldn’t banish, no matter how hard he scrubbed. He thought about the fact that the two should’ve already arrived in Elliston, though Eliana had yet to call. He thought of how easy it would be for Milo to slip into her hotel room. How his hands would slide along Eliana’s soft skin. His mouth on her neck. His whispers in her ear. Her body . . . willing.
The sound of glass shattering brought Jesse back to the moment, his vision sharpening on a broken mug, scattered in the sink. He gripped the edges of the counter, breathing through his teeth. The thoughts plagued him, one after another, with no relief. That is, until he found himself on Bea’s back porch, anticipation swirling in his gut as the windstorm raged around him.
Bea opened the door, surprise in her eyes, and a coy, seductive smile on her lips.
