Thinking about his hands on her made me want to put my fist through his teeth.
He’d never get it. He’d never understand what it was like to be raised on violence and told it was love. He saw her as something fragile to cherish. I saw her as an addiction to kill or be killed by.
I kept pounding the bag. My arms burned. My breath came rough. Sweat ran down my spine, pooling at the waistband of my shorts. I wanted to puke, or scream, or laugh.
She was everywhere. No matter what I did, I couldn’t scrape her out.
I threw one last punch, hardest yet.
I leaned my forehead against the bag, heart rattling in my chest. Nothing left but the ache.
Maybe if I kept going, eventually I’d shatter. Maybe then I’d finally get some peace.
Or maybe not. Maybe this was forever.
Goddamn it.
I wiped blood on my shorts, flexed my fingers. Stepped back and glared at the bag, as if it could glare back.
I thought about that day again. I remembered what it felt like to own her, even for a second. It was the only time I’d felt whole in months.
I’d never stop wanting to ruin her.
I wrapped my hands tighter, took a breath that tasted like blood and old sweat, and started hitting again.
Harder this time.
I tracked Dante down by the benches behind McLean’s Pharmacy. He sat there, hunched, knuckles white on his phone. He looked up the moment I got close.
Didn’t jump. Didn’t run.
Of course he didn’t. He was always too steady, too fucking solid. The opposite of me in every way.
I didn’t bother slowing down. Just stopped right in front of him, let the anger splatter everywhere.
“Got a minute?” My voice cracked.
He sighed. Shoved his phone in his pocket. “Not really. But you’re gonna talk anyway.”
“Don’t get smart.”
He shrugged, jaw tight. “What do you want, Caiden?”
I could’ve said anything. Should’ve said nothing. Instead, I went straight for the only thing that mattered.
“You fucked her.” Didn’t bother making it sound nice. “You fucked Amelia.”
His brows flicked up, just for a second. “That’s what you’re here for?”
“You gonna deny it?”
He shook his head, slow. “No. I’m not denying it. You walked in and saw the aftermath for yourself.”
My fists clenched.
“You think you’re better than me?” I spat.
He looked away, out at the cars passing on Main. “I think—” He hesitated, tongue wetting his lower lip. “I think I’m done with you, man. For real.”
