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Nolan wasn’t like the rest of us. His social meter was short as hell. Even though he showed up to the Fall Games and participated where he could, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the kid was fucking unhappy. He did it for his pack, which made him a goddamn rockstar in my opinion. I didn’t have that level of tolerance.
“How long will she be mad at me?” he asked.
“It depends on how fast she gets mad at me,” I replied in earnest. I had a feeling her anger toward anyone else would be long forgotten once I started talking. Standing, I offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. “Go get some rest, Nolan, okay?”
“Yeah.” Nolan sighed. I helped him gather his bags and watched him disappear down the hall. Poor fucking kid.
When I was alone, I stared at her closed door. I had a million and one reasons to walk away. This shit… I wasn’t sure I could handle it. Not really. I just wanted to enjoy the games and deal with this later.
Still, I made myself knock once. It wasn’t going away—not until I faced it.
“I don’t want to talk, Nolan,” Genevieve shouted through the door. I knocked again. I heard her grumble, “Damn it.”
The door flew open, and she looked ready to fight. Fuck, the wild and angry look on her face was hot. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. I took the momentary silence to let my gaze trail down her gorgeous fucking body. That puffy sweatshirt did nothing to hide her luscious curves, and those goddamn leggings showed off shapely legs that taunted me. Shit, how many nights had I fantasized about those legs wrapped around me as she came all over my cock.
Focus. Had to focus.
“Hello, Genevieve,” I said.
“Killian,” she whispered. I still loved the sound of my name on those sexy lips. I was fucked. I had to hold my resolve. “What are you… what do you want?”
“I think you and I need to talk,” I told her. Divorce. We had to survive this shit long enough for me to ask for a divorce and get lawyers involved—make the lawyer do the talking. That was the best course of action.
Those golden hazel eyes flashed with three years of anger. I felt the way her wolf bristled in response. She stepped fast into the hall, and I retreated out of surprise. Damn woman. The way she slammed the door was bound to draw unwanted attention.
“Now we need to talk?” Genevieve demanded, her voice laced with hatred. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”
“Genevieve.” I used her name as a warning. There was no fucking way I would start a scene in the hallway. I glanced at the number of rooms around us. Shit, we were surrounded. Maybe I should’ve waited until we were truly alone to start this with her.
“We’re in a house full of wolves,” she snapped. “If they want to hear us, nothing we do is going to stop that. So, tell me. What does the great Killian Byrne want to talk about?”
That fucking attitude. Shit. I watched her pulse race against the column of her neck as her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. The woman was a ticking bomb. If I wasn’t careful, we’d end up in a fucking brawl. I’d never hit my wife, but she was a goddamn spitfire when she got started, which always ended messily.
“God, you can’t even figure out what to say, can you?” Genevieve taunted and rolled those pretty eyes of hers. “Did you forget I know you? I know when you’re trying to figure out the right thing to say and how to say it, so let me help you out. There’s nothing you can say that’s the right thing in this situation.”
Goddamn pain in the ass woman was determined to push all my fucking buttons. I hadn’t forgotten the look on her face when I fucked her, but shit, I’d forgotten how vicious she could be when I fucked up.
“I forgot how high and mighty you can fucking be,” I muttered under my breath. “I didn’t come here to fight. I said talk, princess—”
“Don’t you dare call me that,” she interrupted hotly. Her temper, her sass, her unfiltered attitude. All of it got under my skin. This conversation wasn’t supposed to go this way. “You lost every right to—”
“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want, Genevieve,” I cut her off, my temper meeting hers. I stepped closer to her, invading her space. That little way she retreated excited me—enticed the part of me that enjoyed the fight with her. “I came here to talk, to clear the fucking air between us. You came out of that room like a fucking bull in a goddamn china shop. You came out here looking to fight, not me.”
“How dare—”
“I wasn’t finished talking, princess.” I was testing her limits—pushing her boundaries—by calling her that name. It meant too much to use it so casually. Closing the distance between us, I forced her back against the door and caged her in. Those pretty eyes widened. “Now, I said we’re going to talk, which means we’re going to talk. You and me, we have a lot of shit we need to figure out. Put the fucking teeth away, Genevieve. I know you’re all bark and no bite.”
I was fucking tempting her.
I was seeing just how far I could push her.
Should I have reeled it in? Probably, but she was under my skin, and I was pissed off. I wanted nothing more than to fight with her. A fight made it easy to stay angry and not deal with the rest of the unresolved emotions between us.
“Oh? Am I?” Genevieve exclaimed with disbelief. There she was. My feisty wife. “Did you forget our entire childhood too while you were off doing whatever the heck you were doing these last three years? Were they a good three years, Killian? Did you have fun? Fighting? Tattoos? Throw a few whores in there too? Was it easy to forget about the wife you left in the hospital? Was it easy to forget about—”
I punched the door. Hard. Pain blossomed in my knuckles as the wood fractured. My anger surged as she squealed with surprise.
“Don’t you fucking go there,” I snarled. What the fuck did she think she was going on about? Did she really think I’d been off fucking around and enjoying my life? The fucking audacity “You have no fucking clue what the hell the last three years were like for me.”
