The last words do it. The tears streak down Gracie’s face, and she bolts. I jerk as if caught by a spell and turn sharply. I instinctively reach out towards Gracie, but taloned hands grip my forearm, tugging me backward. The front door slams shut behind Gracie, and I jump at the sound. A different kind of rage swirls through me, like bile burning in my throat.
Rounding on Donna, I barely catch a glimpse of Devon staring at the door helplessly, obviously also at a loss and regretting not having done a damn thing. I’m not sure what his excuse is for not stopping Donna, but I make a mental note to make sure he also knew my feelings about it.I’m a fucking hypocrite. I didn’t stop Donna either. What right do I have to get mad at Devon?Maybe if just one of us had had the balls to do it, Gracie wouldn’t be gone right now.I hate myself for letting it go that far.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I spit, advancing on my girlfriend.
I’m a good head taller than Donna, but I feel like a fucking giant when I tower over her in my anger. My stomach clenches as she tilts her head back with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. For a moment, fear sparks in her eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with anger. She has always hated how protective I can be of Gracie.Good thing she doesn’t know about those weeks with Gracie when I almost officially called everything off with Donna. I mean, we were on a break, and I was allowed to be with Gracie. But I was close to not getting back with her. Damnit, Gracie. Getting back with Donna is your fucking fault for what you did.
Donna pulls herself together, her eyes growing stone cold as she straightens. “Are you serious right now? You’re going to be madat me?What about the way she treated me?” I can hear the sob catch in her words, but it’s a fake one. I know her a little too well at this point.
I snarl. “You’re always a fucking bitch, Donna. You just can’t let her be happy with shit, can you? You don’t know what the hell she has to go through, and you make it ten times worse for her.”
She blinked. “So? She’s just crawling for you and Devon’s attention when she obviously doesn’t deserve any of it. She ruined her chances for a good life. She just needs to go back to whatever hole she crawled out. Let her die from an overdose. I really don’t care.”
My nostrils flare this time, and my fingers tingle, twitching, curling into my palms to make fists. I don’t hit women. It’s one principle I have always stood by, no matter what. I like to go after men who wailed on their wives or girlfriends because no man should ever put their fucking hands on a woman, but goddamn it, Donna is really fucking pushing my buttons right now.
“I really fucking wish you were a guy right now,” I tell her coldly, and the smirk she’d had slathered across her face drops. “I would beat the living shit out of you.”
“I’ll tell your fucking boss on you for that,” she threatens. “A threat is good enough to get you on desk duty for quite a while.”
I grit my teeth. She isn’t exaggerating, but I hold my ground regardless and force a shrug as if I just don’t care. I can’t let her see me falter. Not at the moment. Anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach.
A rumble of thunder falls through the suddenly silent air before a flicker of lightning far off in the distance flashes in front of the window with the curtain pulled open. Our eyes shift towards it, watching for a moment. Not another fucking storm.
“You should leave, Donna,” I state as calmly as possible, my eyes staying on the window so I don’t have to look at her right now. “You can tell my boss whatever the hell you want. I really don’t care. But you are not allowed to come into this apartment and disrespect Gracie. She lives here. This is her home.”
“So, make her move,” Donna scoffs. “It isn’t fair she’s a freeloader, and you two—”
“Shut up,” Devon cuts in, his naturally calm voice quivering with repressed anger. “Seriously, Donna, shut the fuck up. This is Gracie’s home, and she is no freeloader. She does her part, just like the rest of us. Her situation is just different. But Owen’s right, you should leave. Now.”
Donna gawks at him, obviously taken aback by the fact that we are actually standing up to her. Narrowing her eyes, she throws me a cold smile. “You’ll apologize by tomorrow; I know you will.”
With that, she prances out of the apartment. I can’t help watching as her hips sway side to side as she walks, flipping her hair over her shoulder and slamming the front door as she departs. Once Donna is out of sight, I let out a ragged breath of air and sweep my fingers through my hair, realizing that I am trembling from the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
Another rumble grumbles through the air, followed by another flash of lightning. Glancing warily at the night sky as a few droplets of rain slash at the glass, I frown. “Gracie’s out there,” I remind Devon.
“We can go find her if you guys would like.” Kate blushes beet red when our eyes swivel to her in surprise. “Look, I don’t have a problem with Gracie. I’m proud of how hard she works for her sobriety. Donna is just…” Her voice falters as she looks at me helplessly. “Well, Donna.”
It’s all she has to say. I nod in agreement and cross my arms over my chest. I really fucking hope I don’t wake up and feel the need to apologize to Donna, but I’m not stupid. It happens every damn time we fight. I’m always the first one to apologize. I like to pretend that I’m strong, but something about the way Donna is just makes me weak. Maybe it’s the sex. Maybe it’s the BJs. Maybe it’s the need to make her happy. I don’t know. What I do know and am sure of, however, is that it isn’t love. I’m not in love with Donna at all.
But I can’t let Gracie win. She has to learn. She has to get better. She fucked up and hurt me badly, and I won’t, I can’t, tolerate that.
Stupid fucking heart.
Chapter6
Gracie
The little bell jingles above as I shove the door open, dipping into the warm little diner. Shivering from the sudden onslaught of rain, I push back black strands of hair that cling to my face. Sputtering out, I cross my arms and mentally curse myself for having just walked out of the apartment with no jacket or even a sweater to lessen the cold. If I don’t get sick from this storm, I’m going to honestly be surprised. Being caught in such weather always results in colds, pneumonia, and whatever else a shot immune system is able to conjure up.
“Take a seat anywhere that’s open, dear, and I’ll be right with you,” a crackly male’s voice calls at my entrance.
The place is practically empty. Booths line each wall on both sides of me, and tables litter the rest of the floor, mostly two-seaters. Glancing around, I can count a majority of the people on one hand. Three are at tables, a bunch of loners with their heads down, reading whatever it is their attention has been grabbed by. The two others are in booths, one on each side of the diner. On my left is an elderly woman with white hair casing her lined face, scribbling in a notebook, completely immersed in it. She doesn’t exactly seem like she wants any company, though. On the right is the youngest looking of them all. If I have to guess, he seems to be around Devon’s age. Golden hair shimmers in the low luminescent light. His face is turned to the window that’s slashed with rain; his pale face reflected on the dark surface.
Deciding I’d rather take my chances with someone closer to my age, I edge towards the guy. My footsteps clap on the linoleum, water splashing around me. I’d only been out in the rain for minutes after it started, but it was enough to soak me through completely. The diner is warm, though, and I hope it can dry me off quick enough before I possibly die from the bitter cold. Another shiver wracks my body and chatters my teeth, alerting the man to my arrival. His head snaps around, eyes flashing to me. The corners of his lips twitch, curling upwards. I watch as he lifts his hands and sets them on the table, curling his fingers together.
Until that moment, I didn’t realize I was standing in wait, but his sudden attention stops me in my tracks. Clearing my throat, I feel the heat of a blush curling up my neck to graze along my cheeks. I duck my head, wet strands of hair slashing across my face, and slide into the booth I’m standing next to. I’m still facing him, and his eyes follow me, that odd smirk still dancing on his lips.
I can’t take my own eyes off him. Part of me doesn’t even want to. I want him to look at me. The way that both Devon and Owen used to. It feels too good to want to give up. I want to be noticed, even if I know it’s wrong. I’m not a year sober yet, which is bad. I need to keep my head out of my ass. Any button pushing can and will make me spiral backward. If I have a fling with this guy or any other guy and it ends badly emotionally for me, I’m screwed and not in the good way. I don’t want to slip. I have to stay sober. I want to stay sober. So that means absolutelyno relationships of any kind.