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Her? He was the one she wouldn’t have recognized if she’d passed him on the street. Though she probably looked shockingly different as well. The second she’d left him, she’d ditched the designed duds for tank tops and denim shorts. She’d sold the pearls and diamonds and left her neck bare. She’d burned the four-inch heels and moved into flip-flops.
And she’d felt terrific. So fuck him. “What happened to me?” she asked in as snide a tone as she could pull off. “I left my husband. He was a controlling asshole who made me wear clothes I hated. So now I dress for myself. If it makes me happy, I wear it. The fact that you hate it is a bonus.”
Damn that felt good. They’d never had it out after she left. She’d refused any contact and conducted all communication through her attorney. Getting a chance to tell him off now, after all these years, just might set her free in a way she hadn’t been before.
His upper lip curled in disgust. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Hmm,” she tapped her finger against her lips. As long as that finger didn’t tremble and as long as her voice didn’t waver, she could disguise how afraid she was of that gun he held. “Moved away from you? Started a career I love? Created a fantastic life for myself without you? Found a man who curls my toes? I’m not exactly sure which you’re referring to.”
“Get down here.”
He brandished the gun at her in a wide, uncoordinated arc. Some of her brash confidence vanished. But she shoved the flutter of nerves behind a haughty smile as she took the steps slow enough to earn a deeper scowl.
“Hurry the fuck up!”
She forced her legs to remain steady and kept the pace of a turtle. Anything to give Curly a few extra seconds to receive her message and send help. When she reached the ground level, he pointed toward her couch with the gun. “Sit.”
Mouthing off was one thing, flat out refusing him when he held a gun mere feet from her face was another. She didn’t plan to give him any reason to shoot her.
All she could do now was obey and pray Curly came through.
If he’d blocked her number in anger, she was screwed.
Once she sat on the couch, stiff as a board, Evan began pacing the length of her den, mumbling to himself.
She had to do something. Sitting on her ass waiting for the cavalry to possibly show up wouldn’t cut it. For all she knew, he wouldn’t receive her message for hours, if at all. She had to try at least to free herself. “Evan, why are you here? We haven’t spoken in years,” she said in as calm and placating a voice as she could muster. How many times had she worked with volatile animals over the years? Countless.
This was no different.
Keep him calm. Keep him steady. Don’t do anything to make him strike.
Earn his trust.
“You ruined me,” he mumbled, more to himself than her. Then he stopped walking and stared at her with desperation in his gaze. “Ruined me. I have nothing.” He gripped his hair with both hands and muttered, “Nothing,” as he continued pacing.
She frowned. He was unraveling before her eyes. She’d never seen this side of him before. The closest had been the night Ray attacked him, but even while he’d been in a rage, he’d had complete control over his actions. Control was his thing. The bastard lobbed insults like horseshoes while remaining calm, cool, and collected. That Evan, she understood. This ragged version was a mystery to her. And that made him dangerous. She couldn’t predict how he’d react or when he’d snap.
How the hell was she supposed to play this?
“Um…” She cleared her throat in an attempt to keep it from quivering with fear. “Last I heard, you had a, uh, really great fiancé.”
“She left me.” He whirled around, swinging the gun in another of those wild arcs.
Brooke kept her gaze on the weapon as she said, “I-I’m sorry to hear that.” Even to her ears, the sentiment sounded fake as hell. She gripped the couch cushions until her blistered palms screamed in agony.
“You’re not. You’re not sorry because you made her leave. You!” He shouted the last word, making her jump. “She told me you were right about me. That you talked to her and warned her away from me.”
Shit. As soon as she’d learned he was seeing someone, she’d contacted the woman via social media and told her about what life with Evan had been like. When she hadn’t received a response, and they’d remained together, she assumed one of three things happened.
The woman hadn’t received her message.
The woman hadn’t believed her.
Or Evan treated her better than he had Brooke.
Looked like it’d been the second option, at least for a while. The woman had come to her senses eventually. Luckily for her, she hadn’t lost a decade of her life to the asshole known as Evan.
