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A heavy weight sits on my chest, and it’s making it hard to concentrate on anything as my mind takes over, creating ridiculous scenarios involving that douchebag and her. Has she been intimate with him? Do they live together? How long has she been engaged?
A minute later, the front door swings open, and Diesel charges through with fury in every single step. If anyone is in my corner, it’s him, always. Even though we give each other shit on a daily basis, he really is like a brother. We’ve been through the wringer together, and nothing will change that. Diesel sits next to me on the couch, and while he waits for an explanation, I don’t even know where to begin because I don’t have all the pieces to the puzzle.
“What happened?” he finally asks, breaking the silence. “I saw her with the dickhead in the Mercedes. I almost took a crowbar to it and then kicked his teeth in.”
“You should have.” Just the thought of her being with that asshole who treated her with zero respect has me seething all over again. He looked old as hell too, at least in his mid-thirties.
“I saw them kissing,” Diesel says, the dagger driving deeper into my heart.
“That’s her fiancé,” I say, swallowing down the words that taste like poison.
He looks just as confused as I feel. “How’s that even possible? She’s married. To you.”
“Means nothing, apparently.” Saying it out loud makes it seem more real. More painful, too.
Diesel looks at me and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, man. I know how much you really cared for her. Never in my life did I think something like this would happen. Especially with Zoey.”
“Thanks. I didn’t either. I do care about her; that’s why it hurts so goddamn much. Maybe my parents were right after all.” I think back to the conversation I had with them when they warned me to be careful. Falling fast has its consequences. “Maybe they knew something like this would happen. Maybe it was all fake for Zoey. Coming here was a last hoorah before she got married to a man who seems to be what her parents want for her.” Self-doubt is beginning to settle in, and I question if I really was good enough. I replay every conversation we’ve had since she arrived, and it all seems so obvious now.
Diesel shakes his head. “No. Zoey cares about you, too. There’s no faking that. It was real. Trust me.”
“I’d like to think it was,” I say, but I’m second-guessing everything right now. “Not so sure anymore.”
“We should go out,” he says, standing. “Visit the bar and get shit-faced. Forget about it all.”
I look at him, defeated. “I don’t feel like being around people. I wouldn’t be good company right now. I just need to figure all this clusterfuck out.”
Diesel sucks in a breath and looks at me with pity in his eyes. I stand and walk to my room, grateful that he doesn’t follow me. He knows when I want to be alone, it’s best to just let me. I close the door and lie back on my bed. My pillow still smells like her, the sweetness a cruel reminder of our incredible night together. Squeezing my eyes tight, I try to forget the shitstorm that’s my reality, but it’s impossible.
After an hour passes, I realize I’m starving. I didn’t eat lunch because it was interrupted. Opening the fridge, I decide to pull out some leftovers Mom sent home with me a few days ago. I pop a container in the microwave and sit at the table, reminiscing over the past few weeks, pissed I let her in so willingly. I keep wondering what the point of her coming here was? To run away from it all? Too bad it followed her.
Once my food is warm, I take a few bites, and though my stomach is growling, I don’t have an appetite. As I push the plate away, I hear a few light knocks on the front door. I don’t have the strength to deal or talk to anyone right now. However, news travels fast around here, so I’m sure everyone knows what happened by now, and considering we were at the B&B when I slammed my fist into her fiancé's face, people were looking. I’m almost certain it’s my dad coming to bitch me out for not controlling my temper. Dread washes over me with each step, but when I open the door, Zoey stands there with swollen eyes and a red nose. She’s been crying, but I keep my emotions buried inside, protecting what little piece of my heart I have left.
Though I’m tempted to slam the door in her face, I don’t.
“What do you want?” My words come out harsh, but she just broke my fucking heart, so I don’t apologize.
