Chapter 53
Fable
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I shouted, though my head was trying to convince me this was a dream and I’d surely wake up any moment now.
I rubbed my eyes, my brain still foggy with sleep, but when my vision cleared, my stomach dropped.
Mike.
He stood in front of me as if he had any right to show up in the middle of the damn night and pound on my door.
“How did you find me?” My voice came out rough, barely more than a croak, but I managed to step outside and shut the door behind me before he could get so much as a glimpse inside.
His eyes flickered over me, assessing, calculating. I knew that look. I hated that I knew that look.
“I came for you, Fable. I came to take you home.”
A sharp breath escaped me, half laugh, half disbelief. “Take me home?” I glanced over my shoulder at the house behind me. “I am home.”
He exhaled and pressed a finger to his temple. “I realized my mistakes. We broke up, so I’m ready to start again.”
My fingers curled into fists at my sides, anger simmering low in my stomach.
He thought he could show up, say the right words, and I’d go running back to him. Like nothing ever happened. Like he hadn’t spent years tearing me down, piece by piece, before I finally left.
I squared my shoulders, my pulse pounding in my ears. If he thought I was still the same girl who used to put up with this shit, he was about to be very disappointed.
“You have some fucking nerve coming here.” My voice trembled, not from fear, but from the kind of rage that lived in my bones, the kind that had been waiting for this moment.
“We were engaged, Mike. Engaged. I caught you making out with your manager at the show that I set up for you.” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
“Do you even remember that? Or did you rewrite that part in your head too?”
His face didn’t change. Just the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he had expected this. Like my refusal was nothing more than an obstacle to get through. “I already told you, it didn’t mean anything,” he said, exhaling like I was exhausting him. “You were always so dramatic.”
I clenched my fists. Dramatic. That’s what he used to say after he slammed his hand into the wall right next to my head, after he squeezed my wrist a little too tight, after I flinched, and he had the audacity to act like it was my problem.
“You hurt me, Mike.” Each word scraped my throat on its way out. “You hurt everything around me. The wall. The dishes. The fucking air between us. You never had to hit me to make me feel it.”
His jaw flexed. “I know where I fucked up. And since we’re broken up, I’m choosing a clean slate. I’m ready to do this right.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, my nails digging into my palms. “You’re ready?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s funny. You weren’t ready to start again when I was crying over you. When you were busy calling me crazy for reacting like any human being would.”
He sighed, shaking his head, like I was too much. “No one’s ever going to love you, Fable. Not like I did.”
My blood went hot. “You have no idea what or who will love me,” I shouted, my whole body shaking. “You have no fucking idea because you never cared about me either. You never wanted to care.”
His eyes darkened as he took another step forward, voice dropping. “You can’t have children, Fable.”
The air between us turned razor sharp.
“No man wants a broken woman. And you?” He tilted his head. “You’re broken—with your tics, your health antics, your fear of being clean. On top of that, not being able to have kids?” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “Broken bitch.”
The breath was stolen from my lungs.
The words hit like a physical blow, rattling through my ribs, making my vision go white-hot with fury.
And I moved.
I shoved him, hard, the force of it sending him stumbling back, his boots scraping against the dirt as he fought for balance.
“No one gets to call me a bitch and stand on my property,” I spat, my chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven breaths. “No one.”
He caught himself, straightened, and took a slow step closer, his lips curling in that smug, infuriating way that made my skin crawl. “Yeah? That why you let that bull rider in your bed?”
My stomach twisted. What? How did he—
It hit me.
“You saw the kiss on TV.”
“Damn right I did,” he snapped. “He was kissing what was mine.”
A harsh, bitter laugh tore out of me, my whole body vibrating with rage. “HA!” I spat, shaking my head. “I needed you, Mike. I needed you when I was in the hospital fighting for my life. And where were you?” My voice cracked, but I didn’t let it break. “You were never there.”
“You think that bull rider’s gonna love you? Bet he doesn’t know you’re a broken woman.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, the words cutting deep, but not deep enough to break me.
Not anymore.
A horse neighed in the distance. My head snapped up. Kline didn’t have the horses out this late.
And then I saw her.
Ginger. Beau’s horse.
Wait.
My gaze flicked to the arena. The floodlights weren’t on, but I could still make out the shapes inside. Large, hulking figures shifting in the dark.
The bulls.
Why the hell were they in there and not in their paddocks?
“I have to go, Mike. Leave.” My voice was flat, all my focus shifting away from him, from this bullshit argument, and toward the bigger problem unfolding in front of me.
I stepped down, brushing past him, but before I could move another inch, his hand clamped around my elbow.
I froze.
“Let go of me,” I demanded, pulse hammering.
His grip tightened. “No man will ever love you. Not that bull rider, not anyone. No man wants a woman who can’t give him a family. Who can’t fill a home with children. You’re barren.”
Ice spread through my veins, freezing me in place. He said it so carelessly, like he wasn’t the reason for it. Like he hadn’t stolen something from me that I could never get back.
“Because of you!” I shouted, my voice tearing from my throat.
Mike’s expression flickered for a second, but I saw it.
“You pushed me down the stairs,” I spat, my breath ragged. “I fell because of you.”
His jaw locked, his nostrils flaring. “It was an accident.”
I used to believe that.
I had convinced myself of it because Mike never laid a hand on me. Not directly. He was cruel. He was angry. He was a bad person. But he never hit me.
Except that night had been burned into my memory. The way his hand had grabbed my arm, the way my foot had slipped, the way gravity had stolen me before I even knew what was happening.
It wasn’t a slap. It wasn’t a punch.
I could never forget what it led to.
“Leave.” I twisted my wrist to break free, but Mike’s grip only tightened.
“Not without you,” he said, dragging me a step closer. “You’re coming with me.”
Panic flared in my chest as he pulled harder, jerking me forward so fast my feet stumbled.
“Mike, let me go!” I shoved at him with my free hand, nails scraping against the fabric of his jacket.
“You’re done with this little game,” he snapped, shaking me hard enough that my teeth clicked together. “You don’t belong here, Fable. You belong with me. I’ll give you everything you need back in Chicago—your career, your life. Me.”
The truck was too close.
No.
I thrashed, twisting my body, but he was stronger, dragging me step by step, his grip ironclad.
The night air swallowed my ragged breaths, my pulse hammering so loud I barely registered the rustling movement beyond the truck.
Until a voice sliced through the dark.
“I think the lady asked you to leave.”
Mike’s grip faltered for half a second.
A shadow moved. Boots crunching against the dirt. Beau stepped into the dim glow of the porch light, broad shoulders squared, muscles coiled tight beneath his shirt. His face was carved from stone, but his eyes?
Pure, lethal intent.
Mike must’ve felt it, too, because for the first time, his hold loosened slightly.
Not enough to let go.
“Let. Her. Go.”
“The hell are you supposed to be?” Mike sneered. “You the guy she’s with?”
Beau didn’t even blink. “You worried about that?”
Mike scoffed. “Not really.”
“Then what are you still doing here?” Beau was still calm, still composed, but there was something sharp in his tone, something that made my stomach flip.
Mike scoffed. “She’s my fiancée.”
I gritted my teeth, yanking back against his grip. “Ex-fiancée, you pathetic asshole.”
Beau’s jaw ticked. “I don’t give a shit who you were to her. Right now, she’s asking you to leave, and you’re not listening.” His voice dropped lower, a quiet, deadly promise. “That’s a mistake.”
Mike let out a laugh, but it was thinner this time, nervous. He still hadn’t let go, but now it felt more like a desperate attempt to hold on to something rather than any real power.
Beau wasn’t done.
“You know what your problem is?” he asked, his tone almost conversational, but his body was ready. Taut. Waiting.
Mike scoffed. “Oh, please, enlighten me.”
Beau tilted his head, eyes sharp. “You think being bigger, stronger, louder makes you a man. You think you can take whatever you want, and as long as no one stops you, you get away with it.” He took another step, slow and deliberate. “But you don’t know what it’s like to be stopped, do you?”
Mike’s jaw clenched. “I don’t need a fucking lesson from some—”
Beau moved fast.
Before Mike could even finish his sentence, before he could react, Beau’s hand shot out, grabbing Mike’s wrist—the one locked around mine—and squeezed.
Mike let out a strangled noise, a mix of shock and pain, as his fingers spasmed, releasing me instantly.
I stumbled back, sucking in a sharp breath as blood rushed back to my wrist.
Beau didn’t let go.
He leaned in close, voice dropping to something barely above a growl. “Touch her again, and I promise you, you’ll regret it.”
Mike’s face twisted in anger, but when he tried to yank his arm free, Beau held firm. His knuckles went white, his body tensing like he was deciding if he wanted to take a swing.