Reverse (Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

SIXTY-THREE “The Kill”

SIXTY-THREE

“The Kill”

Thirty Seconds to Mars

Natalie

M y smile dissolves as the wrecking ball that is my husband crashes into me full force. I have no idea how many seconds pass, but it’s not nearly enough for me as Easton averts his blistering gaze and resumes his footing. Reid follows his lead, his cutting eyes damning me a few seconds longer. Both Crowne men breeze past me, and I turn to follow their progress just as Reid stops and introduces himself to Tye. Seemingly unphased, Easton does the same. The cordial handshake between Easton and Tye feels a lot like lighter fluid dumped on the flames raging inside my chest. Easton goes so far as to wish Tye luck before he stalks away in the opposite direction of me. Tye’s eyes start to drift my way as I quickly turn, bypassing the golf cart altogether before stalking forward, directionless.

Screw you, life.

It was a fool’s plan. I knew better.

What are the odds I’d start a flirtation of dating an NFC championship-winning quarterback weeks before the Super Bowl?

Slim to none.

But I knew going in they were stacking consistently against me when he asked for this particular second date, because tonight, the Dead Sergeants are performing the Super Bowl halftime show.

Despite my attempt to keep my presence completely under wraps, my plan, like all recent others I’ve made, just exploded in my face.

I tempted fate, and it delivered in spades.

Which brings me back to the question that’s been haunting me daily for the past week.

Sitting at the intersection of ‘Fuck My Life Avenue’ and ‘Devastation Road’ sits the Crownes and the Butlers, who have been the butt of the galaxy’s jokes for three decades . . . but why?

My feet ache as I glance up at the time clock in the hall, of which there seems to be no shortage of. It’s fifteen minutes until game time, and I’m not where I need to be. I’m supposed to be in the box with my dad, and I know it’s him texting now as my phone vibrates in my jeans pocket. While Dad’s prompt for my ETA rushes my steps, Tye’s jersey number burns a hole in my back—a reminder that I’m not displaying supportive new girlfriend behavior.

But I’m not his, nor will I ever be.

“To your right, miss!” The whirr of another golf cart motor whizzes by just after I plaster myself against the wall allowing it to pass. Feeling paralyzed and knowing I’m nowhere near ready to put on the airs needed to get through the rest of the night, I close my eyes and suck in a steadying breath.

Before today I was breathing a little easier because I was back home, with my family, my friends, and at my desk at the paper. At the very least, I’d resumed my role as a contributing member of society and was growing motivated to reclaim some semblance of my old future.

Now?

I can’t see a second past the one I’m living in.

The roar in the stadium has me pausing briefly before I wipe the sweat beading on my forehead. I continue my walk in search of the nearest restroom to assess my appearance for the possibility of pulling myself back to presentable. The second I spot a restroom door, I recognize Benji’s outline where he lingers just outside of it. He stands with his back to me opposite Easton, who’s currently shoulder to shoulder with one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on.

She’s tall, her body the perfect mix of thin and curvy, her long, long, dark hair thick and wavy. It takes me a second to realize it’s not Misty and a second longer not to care as I drink in their cozy posture. Feet from where they congregate, I contemplate my next step, as a landmine is sure to go off the instant I make a decision. Easton spots me over Benji’s shoulder just before he also looks over to see me standing frozen in the hall. Heart thundering, I shift my focus from Benji to the woman who lifts an inquisitive brow Easton’s way when she recognizes me. With a parting whisper I’m deprived of hearing, the woman kisses Easton’s cheek, and he nods his head in reply.

Instead of cowering away, I force myself to walk the eight or so feet toward the door as Benji ushers the woman away without so much as glancing back at me.

Stopping at the threshold of the door where Easton leans against the jamb, I turn my head as the landmine goes off.

Boom.

Even if the scenario’s imagined, this pain is the worst I’ve ever felt in my twenty-three years on earth.

His gaze travels from the tip of my sweaty forehead to my throbbing pinched toes before he turns and begins striding away.

“You’re not going to say a word to me?” I call to his back.

Easton stops before whipping his head back in my direction. “Seems like a nice guy. Good for you, Beauty. I’m sure Daddy approves.”

“Go to hell,” I snap with a shaking voice as he reaches Benji, who’s standing outside a closed door, his eyes flicking between us before opening it for Easton. Inside, I catch a flash of the Crownes’ camp, spotting Ben and Lexi before it’s forced shut with Easton and Benji safely on the other side.

Slapping the bathroom door open with my palms, I walk over to the sink before bracing my hands on either side of it. Studying my reflection, I’m surprised to see that, for the most part, I’m still well put together. Though slightly fuzzy around my hairline, my ringlets are still intact, my makeup artfully in place with glam team magic. A go get ‘em gift from Mom in support over her purposeful absence. She decided not to come, refusing to let any of Dad’s leaking past into their present. A decision I will forever respect her for. When we left her, she didn’t at all look concerned. Addison Butler is a much stronger woman than me, but unlike me, she’s confident in her marriage.

Pandemonium erupts in the stadium as I gaze into the mirror while my phone rattles in my pocket.

Dad: Everything okay? I’m three beers in and trying to pace myself. Hurry up.

I shoot a quick text to him before giving my reflection a pep talk.

“Get it together, Butler,” I say, the name a reminder my father survived a similar fate, his strength during that time spurring me on as I mentally prepare myself for the hours to come while still reeling from the one prior.

The door swings open as I run my fingers through a few tangled curls, resigned to complete today’s lie and bury myself in work the second I get back to Austin. It’s when I catch the dark and deadly reflection of Easton Crowne standing behind me that my heart plummets. Refusing to look away, I brace myself for more impact.

“Go to hell?” He repeats, his velvet tone replaced with a mix of irony and feigned amusement.

“It’s only fair. I’ve been there since Arizona, and you sure helped to pave the way.”

“Seems to me you’ve bounced back,” he quips, the change in his tone caustic. It’s then I prepare for war, though I can’t bring myself to fully face him because of the lingering explosion ringing throughout my being.

“Yeah, well. You’ve got refuge in Malibu, right?”

Nothing. Not a single tell. My thirsty eyes drink him in, his reflection like a desert mirage. He looks every bit the man I met and married, yet . . . different, edgier maybe, his presence more menacing.

With no way to escape it, I face the consequences of my decision to be here head-on.

“Say it,” I bite out, my tone much sharper than intended. The jagged edges of the pain I’ve felt since we unraveled forcing the words out. He wants to hurt me. It’s so evident. “Just say it.”

He’s never been immature when we’ve fought, not really. All he’s ever truly done is allow his emotions to flow as they came. He’s been unyielding in that respect, and he’s not going to do it any differently now to spare me. But there isn’t a trace of the vulnerability I fell for in his eyes. Not a single hint of softness to be found inside the edges of his fury.

“I didn’t plan on being seen. I would never want to dampen this monumental night for you or your family. I don’t want us to hurt each other anymore.”

“Well, there’s a first ,” he fronts, “you’re not really good at knowing what you want and keeping firm in your decisions. Then again, you say one thing and do another.”

“I’ve never changed my mind about you. I think about you, us, all the time.”

“ Us doesn’t exist anymore. You made it so,” he says, closing in behind me, his warmth unbearably absent. Lifting his hand, he slowly slides his fingers along the number on my spine. My heart lurches against my ribcage, begging to be released. Swallowing, I free myself to love him without abandon in these seconds.

“Easton, I can’t go on like this, if you won’t talk—”

“You were a temporary high . . . and now you’re a stain.” He palms his chest, “That’s what you are to me now, Natalie, a fucking stain.”

I turn and grip his wrist, glaring up at him.

“You don’t get to take it back, not any of it,” I shake my head. “You don’t get to will your past with me away.”

“No, no, Beauty,” he grips my shoulders and turns me back toward the mirror. “You’re the one who put us back here. This is our reality now. You can tell yourself you can’t tonight before you fuck your superhero.”

I scoff. “And you’ve been faithful?”

“I’m a married man,” he declares, his tone acidic. I clutch the counter as he steps forward, caging me further while engulfing me in his wrath.

“We don’t have to hate each other,” I plea.

He tilts his head. “This truly was inevitable, wasn’t it? I just didn’t realize why it was. But now I see it. I see you.”

Fed up, I lash out. “You’ve done an amazing job painting me the villain in all this, Easton, but you’re so damned selfish and adamant on blaming me that you’ll never claim your part, will you? Even when I begged you to see how badly we would hurt everyone. Even after you assured me you wouldn’t force me to choose, or give up my career, that my relationships wouldn’t suffer—”

“So, this is you justifying divorcing me, then? Such a beautiful martyr,” he whispers darkly.

“You know, walking away would have been more convincing. Or have you forgotten I know you just as well. I see everything you’re not saying.”

“I know what I’m in for, Beauty. I’ve always known, and that’s why I fought so hard for you. But you’re still confused, just like you were the day we met, so let me help save you the mystery of your future reality,” he whispers, his tone unforgiving.

“Maybe you fuck him for the first time tonight, and while you do, you think of me the whole time. You’ll smile as he pulls out and make your way to the bathroom, feeling sick because you believed for a few minutes you could do it, you could escape me. While you scrub his cum from your body, maybe you resign yourself and entertain his idea of what you could be like as a couple because you need something, anything. So, you’ll play along because you don’t have a choice. Months will go by as you drown in delusion. Maybe you’ll adopt a puppy together and pose for the cameras to keep it going. They love you together, so you should too. Eventually, he’ll get down on one knee, and you’ll say yes because you feel obligated to, and you’ll think to yourself, ‘Why not?’ because you’ve come this far. You’ll plan an elaborate wedding and invite everyone who knows you to watch you lie your way through ‘I do,’ remembering the first time you said it and actually fucking meant it—but you threw that husband away. Before you know it, you’re making little superheroes to fill the void and later crying your way through the carpool, realizing you’re not living the life you wanted. The worst part? You won’t be confused as to why you’re empty. You’ll know why the whole time.”

He turns me to him and cups my face with a reverent palm as he presses in.

“See, Beauty, you’re part villain now.” Hot tears glide down my cheeks as he brushes one away with a soothing thumb. “That’s my stain on you. I’m in your skin, in the blood that flows through your veins . . . and we all know a villain can’t make it with a superhero.”

“And your future?” I rasp out, his gentle touch driving the dagger further into my heart.

“I’ve got all this sickness running through me to use to my advantage,” he says softly, “feels like fuel for a long fucking career. At least I have that, right?”

“Well then, I guess I feel sorry for the women you bed.”

“Don’t. You know how generous I can be.”

My palm itches to slap him as I glare back up at him while his eyes batter me with deep-seated resentment. I lift my chin.

“I didn’t throw you away, Easton. You stopped listening to me. You gave up on me.”

“You gave me every reason to.”

Hurt leaks into his timbre as he runs a gentle thumb down the side of my face. “You see, you got the vows twisted, my beautiful wife. You were supposed to forsake all others for me ,” his voice cracks with his admission, and I die at the sound of it.

“I’ve been faithful.” I grip his T-shirt in my fist, hot agony sliding down my face as his warmth surrounds me. “Easton, I—”

“Shhhh, Beauty, go back to sleep,” he whispers, completely dismissing my every word while lowering his thumb and aggressively smearing the lipstick across my jaw, a blatant attempt to erase Tye’s kiss. As he does it, I see his eyes flit with a thousand emotions. With one last swipe of his thumb, he leans in, his kiss feeling every bit the kiss of death he intends it to be. A pained grunt leaves him as he releases my hands from his T-shirt before ripping away from me abruptly.

I keep my eyes closed, voice breaking as I repeat the truth. “I’ve been faithful.”