Page 14 of Palingenesis

I scoff and shove past him into the hallway, ignoring the burn of words that bubble up in the back of my throat.

The tick of my jaw intensifies at his laced sentiment, and I head straight for the bowl where my keys are. It’s not until I’m halfway out the door that I look back at him.

He’s put together, as if nothing is amiss, with perfectly coiffed hair and a pressed button-down shirt and slacks. So neat. Perfectly tidy.

He looks nothing like the monster he really is beneath it all.

And clearly, while I’ve spent all day considering every life choice I’ve made in the last year—three years—with him, he’s not had a care in the fucking world.

I did that. I let that happen.

“I’m going out,” I state evenly, though I feel the shakes threatening to take me over.

He bristles, a dainty hand pressing to his chest. “You can’t be serious.”

Gripping the doorjamb to hold myself up—or back, I’m not sure—I use my other to sign my words in tandem as I speak them. “I’ll be late.”

The yells–the insults–he slings after me as I walk the path to my truck are more blows to my already bleeding heart.

You dragged me out here.

What am I supposed to do while you’re off fucking other men?

How dare you do this to us!

There’s more; phrases that cut far deeper that slide so easily from his lips that I reach up and pluck the devices from my ears.

Tears collect on my lashes, clouding my vision and refusing to fall even after I’ve pulled away from the house.

I won’t let him see my emotions.

He’s lost all right to.

Chapter 8

Shannon

By the time I make it to the bakery, the place is packed and my eyes feel like sandpaper. My body aches and, well, just walking through the door tweaks my lower half enough to almost make it unbearable.

There’s a bruise on my ass that curves around to my hip, and even the thought of my shoulders makes them ache.

It just … it all hurts.

If it weren’t for the waving hand peeking through the throngs of people, I would have left immediately.

But Avery comes barreling over, his apron flapping around his knees and his hands moving before I can slip back through the door.

“You okay?” he signs.

I’m not sure if it’s the genuine worry I see in his eyes when he asks me that, or maybe that he’s asking me at all, in sign at that, but it has my nose burning and my chest clenching.

I don’t get a chance to respond before he’s hauling me through the crowd by the arm he hooks around mine.

Absently, as we pass through the kitchen where Avery’s dad and a few others are working, I reach up to press the power button on my hearing aids.

As much as I expected Avery to be speaking to me, I’m equally surprised to find he’s not.

It makes my eyes well up all over again.