Page 82 of Loving Wild

“Or you could let him show you, teach you what you’re worth,” I narrow my eyes on Jo as she talks. “Just putting it out there,” she adds with a shrug.

I tilt my head as I consider her suggestion for a few seconds before choosing to ignore her and continuing with my story.

“So, anyway, yeah, I told him how I was feeling, told him that I still hadn’t even got my head around what Jay had done to me, and how I need to deal with that before I can even get my head around the fact, he’s fucked half the female population of the peninsula.”

“What was his response to that?” Jem asks.

“That’s when he told me perhaps it was best if I did leave.”

“No, I’m not having that. I’ve seen him with you, watched you together. If I found a man who looked at me the way Gabe looks at you, I’d seriously consider giving up my independence and let him worship and adore me on the daily . . . even if the sex was shit.”

That causes a collective gasp to be released from all of us.

“The sex with Gabe is shit? I thought you just said . . .”

“Shut up!” we all order Lou.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

I continue.

“Welp, that’s what he said. Told me maybe it was best if I go, so I walked back home, called you to come and get me, and started packing my bags.”

My nose tingles and my throat burns as I relive the scene in Gabe’s kitchen, but I hold on to my tears long enough to get the rest of my story out.

“When you pulled up on the drive to pick me up, I asked—yes, I absolutelywastrying to push his buttons—if it was okay if you came up and helped me with my stuff. He asked me why I hadn’t called Jay, then said . . .” I pause, lick my lips and blow out a breath as I compose myself. I won’t cry, I refuse to cry. It’s all I’ve done for the past two days.

“He said, why Jo, why not Jay? Oh, that’s right, he’s in prison for pissing all over youafterhe’d finished kicking seven kinds of shit out of you. Then he threw a whisky tumbler and it smashed against the wall behind me.”

Lou looks at me wide-eyed, Jemma and Jo have their mouths hanging open.

Jo hasn’t once pressed me on what happened between me and Gabe, so it’s the first she’s hearing all this.

“That’s why you left without any of your stuff,” she states. “Did that fucker touch you, scare you?”

“Not . . . no, he’d never touch me like that. I’m positive of that,” I admit. “I’ve experienced first-hand when someone actually wants to hurt you, that wasn’t what that was. I knew the glass wasn’t aimed at me; he just threw it in temper. It was his words that hurt.”

“I can’t believe he actually said that to you, about Jay, and telling you to go,” Jemma says with a slow shake of her head.

“What the fuck?” Jo adds in disbelief.

Lou sits with her fingertips pressed to her lips staring at me.

After a few seconds of silence, Jo speaks.

“Ya know, I’m in no way sticking up for the fucker, but just hear me out on this. Gabe’s new at this whole relationship thing, I know he was married, but that wasnevera marriage, not in the real sense.” She adds a dismissive flick of her wrist for effect. “What if he just didn’t know how to handle you telling him you needed some time out. What if he was feeling defensive because you’d just told him that, and he lashed out with words to protect himself?”

“That’s highly likely,” I admit. “Gabe doesn’t handle rejection well, but he’s a grown man, Jo. He’s always telling me to use my words and give total honesty, it’s only fair that I expect the same from him. I already have two kids, I don’t need to be raising another.”

“I get that, but like you’re learning to love yourself again, he’s learning how to be in a committed relationship.”

“But how many times do I have to put up with him losing his temper, throwing or kicking shit around, then disappearing when things are fucked up? This isn’t the first time he’s done it, and we’ve only been together weeks. It’s not even two months yet, and he’s walked out on me, thrown and kicked stuff in a temper around me twice.”

“Yeah, that’s not on,” Jo agrees. “Especially as he knows . . . he’s seen first-hand exactly what you’ve already been through.”

I let out a sigh, pull a cushion into my lap, curl into the corner of the sofa, and sip my wine. There’s a long silence as everyone digests and processes what I’ve just told them, and I give them that, needing my own time to go over it all again.

“Can I ask?” Lou breaks the silence. “And this isn’t about the sex, I promise, so shut up and hear me out. What’s more painful, dealing with his exes or being without him?”