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There was no looking back as she trudged through the snow in the driveway to the sidewalk and began following it, heading away from the house and the man who’d captured her heart but then squashed it like a bug.
Not like I didn’t know I was going to end up with a broken heart.
Chapter Eighteen
Hope was gone.
Both figuratively and physically. All traces of her calming presence had been wiped from his home. Mitchell hated it. Every part of it.
Did it matter she was gone because he’d tossed her out? Told her not to be here when he got back? Of course it didn’t.
“Goddamn it!” He hadn’t been able to stop the vile words from slipping free when he’d been sideswiped by his mother and heard about that story. “Godfuckingdammit!” It was like he’d watched himself do what he could to hurt her, and the devil on his shoulder had just prodded him on, encouraging him because of his past.
“Why the hell did I listen to that woman?”
He picked up the tray his mother had brought over, swore, and heaved it toward the wall.
The crash barely dug a dent in his rage. Picking up a glass pitcher she’d also dropped off, he sent that into the wall, watching as the glass shards shattered and fell to the floor.
“Fuck!”
He reached for something else.
“You’re going to regret it if you break that.” Linc’s calm voice pushed into his bubble of anger.
Looking at what he’d picked up, he realized his best friend was right. It was his championship mug with his teammates’ signatures on it.
“Go away, Linc.”
The man laughed but it held no humor. “Why the hell would I do that? You’re hurting and this is what we do. Come when our friends need us, even if they’re assholes and think they can deal with it on their own.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
The mug was plucked from his hand and he glared at his friend. Linc wore a black Henley and dark indigo jeans. His hair hung around his face.
“Don’t give a fuck. Tully’s coming once his class is finished.”
Right, the hockey rink had been completed at the community center and they were now holding classes.
“Leave.”
“Umm, no.” Linc walked to his pantry and pulled out a broom and dustpan. “Now get a fucking bag to put all this in.”
“Can’t you let me wallow?”
“Could. Won’t.” Linc swept up the glass and tossed the dustpan in his direction.
Nearly dropping it, Mitchell ignored the smirk as he walked to where his friend was and crouched down to hold the pan.
“While you’re down there…”
“Fuck you, Linc.”
“Kinda what I was asking for. At least a blow job.” He swept the shards into the pan and Mitchell dumped them in the bag.
“My tastes have changed.” Mitchell’s lips twitched.
“So damn fickle.”
They repeated that until the floor was clean, not speaking further. And he was okay with that. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to see Hope in his house. Hold her. Kiss her. Take her back to his bed that had become their bed in his mind.
Pushing up from the floor, he said nothing as Linc took the pan from him and returned both items to the pantry. Moments later, the man was dragging food out and placing it on the counter.
“What are you doing?”
“Cooking. Tully is going to be hungry and I already am and I’m sure you’ve not eaten since you opened your mouth and acted the fool.”
“If you’re not going to be on my side, get the fuck out.”
Linc opened a bag of chips and popped one in his mouth. “That shit’s funny. You can’t throw me out and I am on your side. Like you were on mine when you both gave me my come-to-Jesus moment about Emma and how we did the same for Tully about Dawson.” He ate two more. “It’s inevitable. You’re going to hear us out.”
“I don’t want to hear you out. I want you to leave me alone to flounder in my fucking misery.”
“That’s original,” Tully commented, hair still damp from class.
“Suck my dick.” Mitchell glared at his other best friend who’d strolled in like he had every right to do so. And, okay, he did.
“I thought your tastes had changed,” Linc said from where he chopped up vegetables.
“What are we eating?” Tully dropped his bag and walked to the fridge where he yanked out a water, uncapped it, and downed half. “And when?” His gaze to Mitchell verbalized everything his friend didn’t say. How much of a fucking idiot he’d been.
“Tacos. As soon as you finish browning the meat. Mitchell’s useless.”
Tully nodded with understanding and washed his hands before moving to the skillet and attending the buffalo that was there. Seconds later, Pitbull blared from one of their phones and Mitchell groaned.
“Set the table, bitch.” Linc pointed at him as he scraped the diced tomatoes into a small bowl then moved on to the lettuce.
