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By showing her the video, I only meant to help her cut ties and move on. I knew it would place her on the edge of despair, but it wasn’t my intent to break her.
She’s no good to me broken.
“I don’t have the other videos.” I rub a hand across my stubble, desperately needing a shower and shave. “I only saved this one.”
“What?” Her eyes turn to slits. “Why?”
“Is this not enough? Are you a glutton for pain?”
“I’m a glutton for truth. Where are the other videos?”
“I destroyed them. You don’t need—”
“I need proof.”
“Your gut knows the truth. Trust in it.”
“Trust? Never again.” She snatches the remote from the coffee table and restarts the video on the screen.
As it plays, she slugs back her second bourbon and tips the empty glass toward Wolf.
He refills it.
She watches the video.
Finishes off her drink.
Starts the video again.
Another bourbon.
Another replay.
Over and over, she watches the seven-minute clip and downs more liquor than a one-hundred-pound female can handle.
It disturbs me, watching her spiral into this self-punishing, self-medicating fugue. She’s always been so expressive, and I’ve seen her through a lot. I’ve seen her at her worst. When I took her from her house. When she lost her baby.
Maybe that wasn’t her worst.
This. Her husband’s infidelity. This is her breaking point.
“He’s built like a stallion.” She extends another empty glass to Wolf and restarts the video for the fifth time. “Fucks like one, too.”
I step forward to put an end to it, but Leo beats me to it.
“Enough.” He grabs the bottle of bourbon and the remote and carts them off to the kitchen.
When he returns, she stands, sways on her feet, and lifts her chin. “You’re cutting me off?”
“Yeah.” He plucks the empty tumbler from her hand and sets it out of reach.
“Fuck you.” There’s no anger in her voice. No emotion whatsoever. It’s so robotic it’s chilling.
This is the opposite effect I wanted. I imagined her dejected and weepy and turning toward my boys for comfort.
I miscalculated.
“Did you make contact with Monty?” She spins toward me, steps right up into my space, toe-to-toe, and tips her head back to meet my eyes. “Did you talk to him? See him? Did he see you?”
“No. No contact. No to all of it.”
“Bullshit.”
“I won’t lie to you about this.” That’s the truth.
“How well do you know him?”
Clucking my tongue, I hook a knuckle beneath her chin and soften my expression. “How well do you know him?”
“Not well at all, evidently.” She sidesteps me, stumbles, and whirls back. “But you’ve met him. You know him. This is personal for you.”
I slide my hands into my pockets and hold her unfocused stare. I’m losing her. Losing her to intoxication. She drank too much, and when she wakes tomorrow, she’ll be nursing more than a broken heart.
“Come here.” I hold out my arms, offering support to stand and maybe some help getting to bed.
“Eat a dick.” She shoves my chest and reels away.
Her attention catches on Wolf, who stands by the entryway door lighting a smoke.
As if without thought, she staggers toward him, her gait zigzagged and determined, and holds out her hand. He stares at it, frown lines knitting his forehead. Then he shakes his cigarettes until one pokes out.
Reaching for it, she doesn’t take the offered smoke. She snatches the entire pack, as well as his lighter, and walks through the entryway.
Stunned, Wolf looks at his empty hands. “You need your—” the front door slams “—coat.”
“I got her.” Leo pushes past Wolf and grabs two coats on his way out.
“The fuck, Denver?” Wolf slumps onto the couch. “Her husband’s a cheating sack of shit, and you thought the best way to tell her was to show her a video of his betrayal?”
“Would she have believed me otherwise?”
“Probably not. But that?” He thrusts a finger at the TV. “That was cruel.”
“Watch your tone.”
Lifting both hands in front of his face, he extends his middle fingers. Patterns of black sharpie ink vandalize his skin from wrists to fingertips. I can’t make out the nonsense. Looks like the bored doodles of a child. It angers me to see it. Wolf is a talented artist and musician. If only he applied himself in productive ways.
Maybe that’s my fault. I’m too soft with him.
I blow out a tired sigh. “You think I shouldn’t have told her? That she didn’t deserve to know?”
“No. I think you could’ve eased her into it. Given her the news gently. If she refused to accept it, only then would the video have been necessary.”
“And your way would’ve lessened her pain? It would’ve made his betrayal easier to accept?”
“Well…” He rolls his eyes and heaves a heavy exhale. “No. Not when you put it like that.”
“Don’t mistake me for the monster. I didn’t hurt her. He did.”
A huff of disagreement draws my attention to Kody. Arms folded across his chest and broad shoulders holding up the wall, he regards me with a blackened look. A tumultuous, shriveling, judgmental look.
