Page 46

Easton: I jerked off thinking about it this morning.

Oh my fucking…god. Oh my fucking god. What do I say to that? I have never sexted in my entire life. I don’t even know if that’s what this is. Maybe it’s just Easton oversharing because that’s kind of a thing he does, and…shit.

I have to say something, or he’s going to panic about fucking things up.

Me: I hope it felt good. I had a less interesting morning.

Easton: Parent stuff?

Me: School run. Then dunkin. Now trying to get some shit from my apartment before my ex realizes I’m here.

Easton: Need help? I’m getting ready to clock out.

Me: I’m alright, but thanks. See you soon?

Easton: I’m off for a few days, but maybe I’ll stop by and say hello.

I say nothing to that. Not because I don’t want him to, but because I can’t keep standing out here like a jackass. I shove the key into the lock and step in, grimacing because while it doesn’t smell bad, it’s a little musty.

There’s an old takeout box on the table that’s definitely from Neal, and when I peek my head into the guest bathroom, I see piss spots on the seat and stains inside the bowl. The man has never cleaned up after himself once in our entire marriage, so I don’t know why I’m surprised to see the mess now that we’re over.

I turn away, not in the mood to deal with it, and I make my way to the bedroom, where I keep my safe. It’s shaped like a book, so I knew Neal would never mess with it. Yanking it off the shelf, I shake it around to make sure that everything is still in place.

It sounds the same as last time, so I head into the kitchen for a grocery bag, where I find a sink full of dirty dishes and something that looks suspiciously like mouse shit on the counter.

Fantastic.

God, I can’t wait to fucking move.

Tossing the book safe into a bag, I drop it on the table and pull out my keys to head to the mailbox. It’s going to be stuffed full—mostly junk, but I want to make sure I collect everything before Neal gets served.

I spoke with my attorney the night before last, and if the process server can find him, it’s either happening today or has already happened this morning. And there’s no telling how badly he’s going to fly off the handle when it does. The thought gives me both an excited and terrified thrill that rushes up and down my spine, and my fingers start to shake as I reach for the door handle.

But I don’t get the chance to open it.

The door flies open, knocking me back a few steps as my ex’s body darkens the doorway.

It takes my eyes a second to see the details of his face, but when I do, I can see he’s pissed. It must have happened. He’s holding an orange folder in his hand, and he’s shaking just as badly as I am.

Only I know it’s not out of fear.

Taking a step back, I square my shoulders and prepare for whatever bullshit he has coming my way. He meets my gaze as he shuts the door behind him, then throws the folder across the room and folds his arms over his chest.

“Really fucking mature,” I tell him.

His expression darkens. “Is this some kind of fucking joke?”

“What? The divorce I’ve been trying to get for years now?” I can’t help a small laugh. “No, Neal. It’s not a fucking joke.”

And it’s also not something he can stop now that he’s been served. He can’t escape town and force me to reset it again.

But that might be what makes him dangerous. He was a giant pain in the ass, unkind, and verbally abusive when he had control of the situation. But after losing control…

He takes a step toward me, and I fight the urge to back up again, but I’m not letting him have this. Because fuck him. Fuck him for being the worst thing that happened to me.

Fuck him for making my life so hard.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”