Chapter 4
Daren opted for mood lighting, so I drag my garden hose through a dimly lit house. Not that I need the light to guide me. The music and occasional moan let me know exactly where to find the destruction of my relationship.
When I finally realized how bad my hearing had gotten on my left side, I did everything I could to preserve the health of my ears. Left the military, avoided places with loud sounds, and became vigilant about wearing protective gear when I couldn’t get away from noise exposure.
Tonight, as I listen to my boyfriend’s pleasure sounds mixing with another woman’s, it is the first time I’ve ever wanted to shut off my hearing completely.
The nozzle is cold in my hand, a few stray droplets trailing from an improper seal onto my fingers.
This is not what normal people do when they find their partner cheating. I know that.
Some go into shock, not knowing how to process the betrayal. They shrink away from the truth and curl into themselves.
Other people scream and cry and rage. They throw things and make threats and spill their grief out in front of the offending party. They tear themselves open in an ultimate display of authentic vulnerability.
I am not any of those people.
I pause in the shadow of the dining room doorway, where I have a clear view of the massive leather couch Daren insisted we get. He claimed it was the height of comfort. I’ve always found the material cold in the winter, and in the heat of the summer, a nasty layer of sweat would form between the material and my bare thighs.
I bet the same disgusting moisture is collecting now underneath Daren’s bare ass, which is directly on the couch as Trinity straddles his waist.
She, at least, still has her underwear on.
This is the scene that would pull anyone else’s pin. That would set off a series of emotionally devastating explosions in a normal person’s brain until they saw red and lost themselves to the fury.
But I’m not quite normal anymore. I’ve been through situations that would have had others cowering.
This is fucked up. But my brain knows fucked up. Knows how to find a dark corner to tuck the fucked-up into for the time being. Even better, my brain knows how to formulate and put into action a plan of attack when faced with fucked-up.
Calm. Controlled. Finish the mission.
Unaware of his audience, my partner—the guy I thought I could marry—fondles Trinity’s chest and groans, “God, I love your tits.”
Of course he does.
Ignoring the urge to glance down at my own boobs for comparison, I plaster an apologetic smile on my face, step into the light, and clear my throat.
The two freeze so abruptly that it would be amusing in another situation.
“So sorry to interrupt. But I thought I’d pop in and say a quick howdy.” I lay on a thick Southern accent—not sure why, but it seems to go with the moment. “Just so you know, I packed up my stuff. If I forgot anything, I’ll come grab it when you two have relocated your humping to another venue.”
Daren’s brain finally catches up with the unexpected turn his secret tryst has taken, and he heaves Trinity off of himself and shoves up from the couch.
“Robin! It’s not?—”
I almost laugh, but I’m too busy aiming. His move was exactly what I had been waiting for. Without Trinity in his lap, I have a clear view of my ex’s erect penis and dangling testicles.
Fun fact: I was the best shot in my platoon. And lucky me, that skill transfers to garden hoses.
I spray Daren’s package with perfect precision. He howls, stumbling backward, hands shielding his precious cargo. Which is fine because I shut him up by redirecting the stream to his face.
“Things were getting a little too hot in here, so I thought I’d help cool it down,” I call over the splash of water.
I leave off spraying Daren long enough to give his uncomfortable couch a quick dousing, along with the gaping woman sitting on it. Trinity shrieks and scrambles away from me.
Like with her brother’s truck, I would’ve left the lady alone if she hadn’t known Daren was—supposed to be—a committed man. But you get what’s coming to you.
“Robin! Stop!” Daren begs.
I give him one more douse, then pause my spraying.
But not to hear his pathetic excuses.
I just needed a moment to unscrew the nozzle. A second later, water flows freely from the end of the hose in a torrential gush that would have to be shut off at the source. Giving the hose a yank for a little more length, I offer the man I trusted a simpering smile, then toss the gushing spout toward his entertainment system.
Daren yelps and dives for the surging water, trying to stem the flow.
And isn’t his choice telling?
“Love to see a demonstration of priorities,” I say in my too sweet voice. “In case it wasn’t glaringly obvious, we’re over.”
I turn on my heel and stride toward the front door, chin up, eyes forward. Arthur, who was waiting a couple of feet behind me, falls in by my side, his massive form at my shoulder, feeling like a bodyguard.
I don’t need one. But it’s nice not to be alone when the world I knew goes up in flames.
Or more accurately, drowns in hose water.