Page 276 of Vicious Temptation

He’s looking at me.

I know that expression because I caught it on his face more than once when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were fixed on me as if nothing else in the room mattered.

“No.” I shake my head. “No...”

My fingers tighten around the edges of the Polaroid, but when I try to crumple it, I can’t.

I stand there staring at him, then the anger rushes back.

“Fuck you, Thiago Braga.”

I crush it into a tight ball, let it fall to the floor, then turn toward the truck.

“Fuck this truck.”

The breaker bar hangs from the side of my toolbox. Yesterday, I used it to loosen the bolts securing his replacement fender.

Today, I wrap my hand around it and swing.

It punches through the windshield, spraying glass across the seats.

I swing again, and the front fender buckles beneath the impact.

“You lied.”

The bar comes down on the hood.

“I trusted you.”

Another strike caves the metal beneath my hands.

“I defended you.”

I bring it down harder.

“I chose you.”

The next blow sends a jolt up my arms.

“I loved you.”

I hammer it into the truck again and again.

“I fucking loved you!”

I keep swinging until every word turns into a scream and the truck barely resembles the one I spent hours putting back together.

The breaker bar slips from my fingers and crashes onto the concrete.

“Why weren’t you real?” I stare at the damage in front of me, struggling to catch my breath. “Why did you let me love you?”

A sob shudders through me as I take in what’s left of his truck. After everything I did to it, it’s still here, just like him and every fucking memory.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

My attention shifts to the top drawer of my workbench. I yank it open and grab the Glock inside.

“I couldn’t do it.” My hand tightens around the grip as I stare at the wreckage. “But I can do this.”