Maybe...
The first message hit like a punch to the ribs.
Remi
I warned you, asshole.
I blinked, then groaned.
Not you, too.
Remi
You think you’re the victim here? You think I’m just going to pat your head and say “poor Chief Gray” while you blow up the only relationship that ever made Ava believe she could have more than pain?
Another message followed. Then another. She wasn’t holding back.
Remi
She gave you everything. Showed you her broken pieces. Let you see the parts of her no one else got. And what did you do? You turned it all against her.
You threw her fears back in her face like they were weapons. Like her trauma was inconvenient. You told her she could trust you and then made her regret believing that.
You didn’t deny it, Harlan. You let her walk away thinking you were exactly like every other fucking asshole who said they loved her.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, gripping the back of my neck like it might keep me from unravelling. My chest fucking hurt. Because she was right. I did this.
Remi
I was Team Harlan.
I had your back.
But you hurt her.
And I told you, if you ever did, she’s not the one you need to be afraid of.
The next message came seconds later.
Remi
Just a piece of advice... next time you want to have your cake and eat it too, maybe make sure your side piece doesn’t blow up your game for you.
This has got to be page one in the “How to Be a Cheating, Lying, Two-Timing Dickbag” handbook.
Then a photo loaded.
Steam on the glass. My hand on the tile. Erin’s naked reflection.
My stomach turned, and the bile burned my throat.
It wasn’t true.
It wasn’t.
But it didn’t matter.
Because I hadn’t said a goddamn word when I had the chance.
