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But the doors were closing.
I caught Lena’s eye, our gazes clashed and held for the first time, and I saw the muted apology in hers before she was cut off from me.
The vase exploded against the doors a fraction of a second later, and Aoife let out a wail as she hurried over to it and banged her fists against the wall.
“Atonement?” she screeched. “Atonement?”
“Sweetheart, stop it. Jake. The baby—”
That wasn’t the right thing to say either.
I watched as she turned to the nearest console table, one that was loaded with photo frames, and swept her hands across it.
As the frames went flying and they crashed to the ground, I watched on, well aware that my borrowed time was ticking away.
I wasn’t a man who watched on while his wife suffered.
But she had a right to grieve.
She had a right to express her anger.
She was also barefoot.
There was glass everywhere.
Every protective bone in my motherfucking body couldn’t let this carry on.
I knew she’d escalate.
I’d been there myself.
She wanted the world to burn, and I had to help her control the inferno.
I placed Jake back in his stroller, strapping him in quickly, then I rushed over to her side and picked her up before she could throw the ornaments off another table.
I didn’t know if her feet were bleeding from crunching on the glass, but I knew that was about two minutes away from happening.
As I picked her up, she screamed and her feet kicked out as she tried to free herself from my hold.
“Aoife,” I ground into her ear. “You need to stop this.”
“You bastard! I fucking hate you—”
The words sliced into me like she was armed with a knife.
I growled, “You can hate me all you want, but you willnotharm yourself.”
I backed away from the mess she’d made, and I strode us past a still sobbing Jake and into the living room.
The poor kid needed our attention but Aoife was kicking and screaming, trying to get out of my hold, and she needed all my focus.
She managed to clip my knee, and I almost went down, and that was when I lost my shit.
I didn’t head for the sofa anymore, I went to the nearest wall. Twisting us around, I shoved her against it, pinning her in place as I snagged her hands, raised her arms, and pressed them to the wall.
Aoife bucked and battled but she was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
As she screamed and kicked, I let the battle rage on as I bit off, “You hate me, but I fucking love you. I love you more than anything. You’re my wife, but you’re my fucking life, Aoife. You mean everything to me. I will not let you hurt yourself. I will always protect you—”
