Page 122 of The Game Plan

“Then don’tyougo getting all righteous on me,” I snap back, stabbing my finger in the air. “I get that I fucked up. I get that you’re mad.But you have no right to—”

“I’ve no right?” His expression is feral now, teeth bared, muscles bulging. “Because I’m calm, sensible Dex? The guy who takesa beating and gets back up without complaint? Well, too fucking bad. Iammad. And I’m sorry if that offends you, but I’m not going to suck this up. Not yet. Not fucking yet, Fiona!”

I hate the sound of my name on his lips—no longer reverent but a curse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper.

His chin tilts up. “I know that. I know you didn’t mean it, but... shit.” He begins to pace, his hands going to his headto pull at his hair, which is no longer there. Agitation makes his steps jerky, his arms restless. “I know. I’m just. Fuckit. I can’t—”

He takes a deep breath and then another.

I see the moment he totally loses his shit, like a dam that can no longer hold back the flood. He cracks with a long, raggedcry. “Fuck!” He slams the side of his fist against the aged brick wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Every curse punctuated by a punch.

“Ethan. Calm down—”

“No!” he shouts over me, his eyes on the wall. A sheen of sweat covers his skin, glistening over his biceps. “No. I’m so fuckingsick of always being the rational one! Well, guess what? I’m done.”

His voice rises with every word, going to full-on bellow. “I’m pissed. At everything. I’m just... fucking pissed, Fi!”

Noted.

I bite my lip, tears smarting. This isn’t just about today. It’s everything that’s come before. It’s Ethan never allowinghimself to fully let go until now.

With a guttural cry, he turns, tearing one of his paintingsfrom the wall. It flies through the air, spinning like a pizza box before crashing into the far wall, the frame snapping.

I can only stand silent as he shouts, his voice filled with pain and rage. He punches the edge of the heavy wooden bookcasethat divides the living room and a small reading nook. “Just—motherfucking shit!”

Books soar across the room as he hurls them in rapid succession.

I’ve always wondered how it would be for Ethan to totally lose it. Now I know.

And it breaks my heart. Because I know his rage right now is pain, a soul deeply hurt that has no other outlet but to burn,hot and violent.

A sob of frustration rips from his chest, and he braces himself against the bookcase.

For a second, I think he’s calmed.

An ungodly roar tears from him, and his muscles bulge as he pushes against the bookcase, which is bolted to the floor. Thewhole structure creaks, threatening to topple.

“Ethan,” I shout. “Careful—”

The massive case tips too far and smashes to the floor with such force that the house shakes. I jump back, plastering myselfto the wall as broken pottery shards, knickknacks and books fly everywhere.

It scares the shit out of me. I know he’d never hurt me, but the base violence of the act rattles my bones.

He stands there, his muscles straining, his chest heaving. He blinks rapidly as if to clear his thoughts, but that crazedlook is still there.

“Okay,” I say through a breath. “That’s it.”

I turn, grabbing my bag and coat off the hook.

“Fi!” Ethan’s shout blasts over my skin. “You walk out that door—”

I don’t hear the rest because I’ve already slammed it shut.

Dex

The red haze that clouds my vision blows away with the slam of the door. For too long, I simply stare at the empty space Fionaused to occupy, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. And then what I’ve done hits me like a blindside tackle.My breath leaves in a whoosh, and I struggle to find it again.

“Fi!” I stumble forward, tripping over the stupid bookshelf. “Shit. Shit!”