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Anger pulses through me, my cheeks heating. “You didn’t mean to?” I snort and step toward him. I don’t know what possesses me to do what I do next. Maybe a magnitude of built-up rage for what I’ve endured the last year. But I rip my dress off in front of about ten people and throw it at him, leaving me in my bra and underwear. “Did you mean for this to happen?” I point to my chest and the marks, and the fading ones on my arms. My fear folds into rage and I expose him, and myself. “Or what about these? Did you mean to kick me in the stomach after I lost the baby? Because I distinctly remember the words you said. They didn’t feel like an accident.”
Silence lingers around me, or maybe it’s my heart drowning out the noise around, but whatever it is, Shane and I are locked in a stare. Mine resentment, his… I don’t know. Sadness. Shock. Anger. Maybe all of it.
Jameson is the first to say something as he steps back away from Shane, holding up his palms with a smile. “Looks to me likeyou’re a fuckin’ dead man.” He glances at Aiden beside him. “I really wanted to hit that guy.”
Grayson’s body trembles, his breathing heavy when Frankie gasps, holding me to her side. I can’t tear my eyes from Grayson. From the stony jaw set in anger, the clenched muscles, the glare, this side of him I haven’t seen before. My teeth chatter, waiting for what comes next.
You can feel the air around us change as Grayson steps toward Shane and by the look on his face, cold and callous, one thing is very apparent. This is not the same Grayson I once knew. This guy is a product of what he’s been hiding from all of us since he returned. I think we both exposed ourselves in a matter of seconds.
27
GRAYSON
Istare at Evie’s body that’s been marked by another man. One who supposedly loved her.
I can’t fucking breathe. It takes everything inside me to stand up straight and not fall to my knees in front of her. I want to take her in my arms and hold her, but that’s not what I do. The man inside me wants revenge.
“Get out of my fucking face, you piece of shit,” Shane grumbles, stepping closer to me, the bruising under his eyes from the other night still present. “If you touch me again, I’ll press charges.”
“Press charges. I don’t give a fuck.” I smile at Shane, but it’s certainly not from humor. “I’ll make this simple for you right now, Shane. I’ll walk away when she does. And she’s not leaving with you tonight.”
Shane breathes in slowly and eyes Evie, hatred vibrating from him. “How much you love this guy?”
I turn my head and look at Evie. I wait for her words.
“More than you,” she seethes, never breaking eye contact with him.
With a slow shake of his head, he makes the stupidest move yet. He takes the first swing at me.
I lose it. I lose my fucking mind completely.
I don’t remember hitting him back. But it happened. I don’t remember him getting up. I don’t remember anyone yanking me off him, but they do. What I remember is the numbness I succumb to for those few moments. The quietness. The weightlessness. The intense gratification of avenging Evie’s inner demons and my own that had followed me halfway around the world.
Shane is pulled away by my dad and a bunch of other guys, his face bleeding all over the fucking place, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough. I keep trying to get back at him but the crowd around us keeps me away.
Trying to calm myself down, I bend over. With my hands on my knees, my chest heaving, I lift my head to where Evie had been standing beside Frankie.
When our eyes meet, the look on her face could only be described as pure shock. I lost control and she witnessed it. Ashamed, I look down at my bloody hands. I never wanted her to see that side of me. Ever.
“Evie—” Ethan starts but can’t speak when her eyes meet his, none of us can. With her face clear of makeup, it’s evident she’s been beaten recently, along with blood running down her chin and neck from her lip.
Avoiding eye contact with anyone, her trembling arms circle around her waist.
Scrambling to my feet, I rip my shirt off. I rush over to her and hold it against her face where her lip has been split open. Frankie hands her the dress she’d taken off.
Silently, she slips it over her shoulders and then we’re locked in a stare.
“Evie,” I breathe, choking back tears and trying like hell to catch my breath.
She gasps at my touch, her lips trembling. “I’m sorry.”
I gently take her face in my hands. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. Nothing,” I growl, trying to urgepatience into my tone. “Frankie, get my keys.” Careful as I can be, I gently pick her up.
Making my way to my truck, I clutch her so tight I’m afraid she can’t breathe, but she only holds me tighter, clinging to my chest. There’s a moment before I reach my truck when it hits me that another man laid a hand on her.
He’s going to suffer for this. Goddamn, he’s going to fucking pay for this. No fucking way is he getting away with it.
Remember that bottle? I just shook that fucker up again and took the cap off without fear of any consequences.