Page 76 of Battle Scars

“Texas always messes me up,” he admits, “and I don’t know what to say or how to act here.”

“Why?”

“This is where Macy is.”

I bristle and ask, “Who’s Macy?” Again, I wish I could recall the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth, because by the pained look on his face, I know without a doubt that I do not want the answer.

“My wife,” he says, and the air is sucked from my lungs. “I should go.”

I knew he was emotionally unavailable to me, I just had no idea it was because there was a whole wife standing metaphorically between us. No wonder Marisol had a strange look on her face when she asked if Gabe and I were a thing.

Gabe walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor like an asshole while he makes his way through the bar.

My face burns with my humiliation. This is what Eli and Manny knew the whole time. This was the sad but knowing look on Marisol’s face when I told her that he wasn’t mine to keep.

They knew.

They all knew I was giving him my body every night, letting him into my life, falling for his not-so-honeyed words and the orgasms he gave me. As spectacular as they were, it doesn’t change the fact that the entire time, he was married and just fucking the client.

And they all knew.

It’s like something snaps within me, that last shred of me finally breaking, and I am done. How dare he announce to me that he’s married but he can’t stay away? I don’t care how being here with me, in the state that she lives in, messes him up. He’s done far worse to me, and that shit is not right.

I see red.

I follow him through the bar, shoving my way between people, not even uttering an apology as I race to catch up with him. He wants to go lick his wounds. Hell, maybe he wants to go to her, and that’s fine. That’s great, because he and I are done, but he’s not leaving here until I get a few things off my chest first.

He’s almost to his SUV when I push through the door of the bar. The moon is high and full in the clear Texas sky, and it gives ample light for me to see his slumped shoulders and agitated movements. But fuck him.

“Gabe!” I shout. “Gabe! You stop right fucking there.”

“Go back inside, Adrienne,” he calls without turning back to face me.

Excuse me? No fucking way.

“No!” I yell as I gain on him.

He turns to face me just in time for me to collide with him. He doesn’t even step back with my impact; he just absorbs my weight into him, and I hate it. I fucking hate it, and I hate him.

“All this time, you’ve been pulling me in and taking, taking, taking from me, while never giving anything. This whole fucking time, you’ve been married?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you get it?” I scream as I pound his chest. “You know everything about me, Gabe. That my dad cheated on my mom and broke up our family. That cheating is the one thing I can’t stand. The one thing that would hurt me more than anything else.”

“What do you want me to say to you right now, Adrienne?” He pushes his hand through his hair again, and I don’t care that he’s upset. I’m furious.

“You used me to cheat on your wife, Gabe. Were you so desperate to get your dick wet that you just fell into my bed?” I shout. When he doesn’t say anything, just stands there staring at me, I lose it. “Well fuck you—and fuck her.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he warns, his voice low and menacing, but I do not give one fuck. There is nothing he can do to me that would hurt me more than he already has.

“Oh yeah?” I bite out. “Why?”

“Because she’s dead,” he says, and my lips snap shut, my heart instantly breaking.

I was wrong.

I could hurt more, just not for me—for him.