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“If I want a fuck every other month, I can find someone much closer. Just go. I don’t even know why I asked you to come with me,” I spit, venomous and cruel. The walls build up faster than I can stop them. I can’t look at the pain in her eyes. It reflects my own.
“Don’t,” she sobs. “Please.”
“Get the fuck out of here, Autumn. I have packing to do, and you fucking made your choice, so fuck off.” Each hateful word is meant to hurt her, and she flinches at every single one.
I’m a dick. I want to get on my knees and beg her to come with me, to make everything all right, but pride is a curse, and I allow my anger to lead the way.
She slings her dress on and wraps it around herself since all the buttons are gone. Running past me, she grabs her bag, and without another word, the door slams behind her. A cloud of morbid dread saturates me. Picking up the coffee table, I launch it across the room. It hits the wall and smashes into a hundred pieces, just like my fucking soul.
Present…
I’m pissed all over again. Not at her, but myself. I was unreasonable and selfish. Dropping that shit on her and trying to get her to make a choice on the spot between me and the life she was used to…the career she wanted. What the hell happened to her? How the fuck did my Autumn end up as Summer taking off her clothes for money?
I couldn’t think straight after seeing her a couple of days ago, and sure as hell couldn’t sit and watch another man tattoo my design on her ass, so I bailed and came home to pace the fucking floor. I’ve been doing it ever since. It’s time to stop pacing and to get some things straightened out. Grabbing my keys, I slam the front door and make my way to her club.
We need to talk, Breezy, and I won’t let you blow me off.
To say I’m shaken is an understatement. With Lucca, he doesn’t just shake the ground I walk on…he decimates it. I’m left clawing to remain standing on my own two feet. I hate him for it. I hate him for everything.
Six years.
For six years, I’ve slowly pieced together my life.
Without him. Because of him.
Tears threaten as I walk into the club, but I quickly blink them away. Fuck Lucca. I have Christian now. I’m happy. I’m so happy.
A bitter laugh escapes me. I can’t even convince myself.
When I push into the building, the loud music thumps through the air, vibrating my feet as I walk. I’m late. I should care more considering I need the money, but I can’t find it in me to give a shit. It’s been several days since I saw Lucca, and I’m still shaking.
Autumn, you can’t just walk away.
He actually had the audacity to say those words to me.
“Hey, Summer,” Becks greets as I enter the dressing room, her lips sparkling. “John is on a fuckin’ rampage looking for you. He thinks you quit.”
I toss my bag on the bench and frown. “Because I’m late?”
“Because you’re an hour late, hon.”
An hour?
How long was I sitting in my car?
Crap!
“Are you going out there?” I squeak out as I yank off my T-shirt and toss it on the bench.
“Someone has to go into the box. Your regular is waiting. I didn’t want to go,” she complains. “You know how claustrophobic I am, but John’s losing his shit out there.”
Guilt stings me over and over like a swarm of angry bees. John may not rough me up because I may be one of the few dancers who’s held out on fucking him, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t hurt anyone else. Becks has come in with her share of bruises—bruises I knew were formed when John grabbed her.
“I’ve got this,” I assure her, yanking off my bra and the rest of my clothes. “You take the floor. I’m sorry you had to deal with his wrath.”
She lets out a heavy breath. “He’ll be pissed I went against his orders.”
“Just lie and tell him I was already in there before you had a chance.”
Quickly, I slide on a silky pair of white panties with a black design and a matching bra. I then stuff my feet into high black heels. There’s no time to do much else. I give Becks a quick hug of thanks, then bolt down the hallway. I don’t see John, thank goodness.
“Hey, Summer,” Paul, my usual box bouncer, greets. “Thought Becks was going in the box tonight.”
“Change of plans. Thanks, boo,” I flirt, flashing him my prettiest smile that always makes the big guy soften.
His lips quirk up on one side as he opens the door for me. “John ain’t happy, beautiful.”
