Page 59
“Hey, I need you to turn around and come get me?” I choked out.
“What’s wrong?”
I opened my mouth to explain when Preston leaped forward and the phone vanished from my grip.
“Preston, what the hell?” I began.
With a violent twist of his arm, he hurled my phone across the room. It struck the wall with a sickening crack, the screen shattering as pieces of glass and plastic scattered across the floor.
For a second, I could only gawk at what was left of it.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled
“You’re not calling anyone." He fumed. "You’re not walking away and ruining everything I’ve built.”
"Ruining what you built?” I laughed. “You brought another bitch into our bed, and somehow I'm the one ruining your life? Boy, you better be fucking serious.”
He took another step, putting himself between me and the front door. I backed away, my eyes darting toward my purse on the entryway table.
“You don't get to destroy everything because you're having another of your little freakouts.”
“Move,” I seethed, trying to shove past him, but he grabbed my wrist. Hard.
“Not until you calm down,” he said, his voice dangerously low.
“Don’t touch me!” I shoved at his chest.
His hand struck my shoulder hard enough to send me stumbling backward. My feet tangled beneath me, and I hit the floor, the back of my head cracking against the hardwood. Pain shot through my skull, leaving me dazed as I reached behind my head, pressing my palm against the throbbing spot.
Preston went utterly still, staring at me, confusion and horror in his gaze. “Sloane… I—I didn’t mean it.”
But his excuses died on his lips as a thud sounded at the front door. A heavy, insistent rap. Then another.
“SLOANE!” Trey’s voice, urgent and muffled.
Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived as I watched Preston clench his fists, knuckles turning white. This was the first time in ten years of knowing him that I looked at him and saw a stranger.
I don't think. I just bolted, hands scrambling against the door as I tried to turn the lock.
“No!” Preston’s voice was a venomous grunt as his arms wrapped around my waist, dragging me back hard against his chest. “You’re not leaving me! I worked too hard building a relationship with your father for you to fuck it up now!”
I twisted, kicked, and clawed at his hands, but I couldn't break his hold.
“Trey!” I screamed. “Trey, help me! He won’t let me out!”
The knocking thundered against the wood. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” Trey’s fury battered the frame.
Preston's grip slipped as I fought against him, and I lunged for the door again. He caught me by the arm and yanked me backward. Already unsteady from hitting my head, I lost my balance, and we went down hard, my shoulder striking the floor beneath his weight.
Before I could scramble away, he grabbed both my wrists and pinned them above my head. I twisted beneath him, trying to wrench free, but his fingers only tightened.
“You think you can just walk out on me?” he demanded, my skin pinching in his grip until pain shot through both wrists. “After everything I've done for you? Ten fucking years, Sloane! You don't get to throw all of that away because you're pissed off. You're going to calm the fuck down, and we're going to fix this.”
“Get the fuck off me!” I screamed, bucking beneath him. But he just adjusted his hold so that one hand was holding my wrist and the other clamped over my mouth, so all I could taste was the salt of my own tears.
Screaming into his palm, one thought cut through the panic as I thrashed underneath him: This is how it ends.
Just then, the door split, wood fracturing down the middle, making Preston jerk and release my mouth.
