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“She went out yesterday and we kept an eye on her like I promised you we would. My guys saw some things.”
That’s when a man’s face comes back to me. My hands clench into tight fists at my side as I shake my head. Jacob whatever the fuck his last name is. My breathing comes in ragged pants as he says, “Jacob Scott is his name. A potential client of hers.”
“Not my wife,” I say, biting out the words although I already know it’s true. “She’s not going to move on so fast.”
The worst part is that I don’t even blame her. I’m dying inside. Every night I think about how my father should still be here and my wife should be in bed with me. Instead I’m alone,clutching a fucking T-shirt Pops always wore. He gave it to me when he gained a little weight and it didn’t fit him any longer. It’s just a shirt from a shop he used to work at. The shop’s not around anymore.
I didn’t give a shit about it back then, it was just a shirt, but all I can see when I hold it now is him. It’s funny how the little things that don’t matter are the most sentimental when you lose the ones you love.
That’s my life. Hiding away and mourning my father alone. Hating myself and not being able to fix it all. I can’t fix a damn thing.
“I told you she wasn’t doing well,” Mason says like I should have known better.
My teeth grind against each other as I seethe. “I can’t do both at the same time, lead her on that we’re broken up, but also be there for her.” Pounding my fist against the window once like a madman, I hold on to the anger. I’ll prolong every other emotion I can until I’m forced to deal with it at night when sleep refuses to comfort me. I know I must look like I’m fucking unhinged, but I am. So, I suppose it’s fitting. “I can’t protect her and have her in my life at the same time. There’s no way for me to do it!” Exasperation gets the better of me.
“Well, if you’re not there for her, someone else will be.”
My heart’s in my throat. That’s the only explanation for what I feel. It’s not in my chest where it’s supposed to be. Only pain lingers there.
“I want to kill him. That Jacob fuck.”
“Now I know that one isn’t serious.”
“He’s seeing my wife!” I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming, but Mason doesn’t react.
He’s silent as my rage slowly subsides.
“What would you do?” I ask him out of desperation as I imagine her calling him. Alone and desperate for someone to take away her pain.
Mason answers with a shrug, “Kill the asshole.”
“You’re a real wiseass, you know that?”
“It could be worse,” he says.
“How’s that?”
“She cried for a while when she got back from dinner with Jules.”
I wait for him to continue, not understanding. “Why was she crying?”
“After seeing the guy, she cried all night. She’s not moving on. She’s not okay, Evan.”
“What am I supposed to do? She’s everything to me. And all I can see, all I dream about at night is her dying because of me.” Mason doesn’t answer me.
No one has an answer for me. “If I lose her, I have nothing. There’s no reason to live if I don’t have her.”
“You could always go with the locking her in a room option. She likes her office, right?” Mason jokes and I don’t know whether to thank him for lightening the mood, or punch his fucking face in.
“Do you think James would go after her if I took her back?” I ask him. “Tell me honestly.”
“If someone wanted to hurt you, the first thing they’d do is go after her.” Mason says exactly what I already knew, and I rest my head against the window.
“He still might, but the chance of that seems low. Right now, James is only interested in three people: you, Samantha, and a man named Andrew Jones. Obviously, a cover.”
Before I can ask, Mason adds, “We’re paying him a visit soon. As soon as we track down his location.”
I nod, agreeing with the plan, but all I can think about is that prick with his hands on my wife.