Chapter Twenty-Six
West
The rain is falling in sheets by the time I turn onto Seth’s street.
I’m a house away when I kill the engine, sitting there, listening as water pelts the roof of my SUV. His porch light’s on, but the windows of the house are all dark.
I slip out of the sling. My shoulder’s throbbing because I wasn’t mindful of it as I drove, but my thoughts are singular.
Focused.
Find out what the hell this asshole was thinking.
I step out of the car, and my shirt and hair are soaked within seconds, but it hardly registers as I stare at his front door, doing all I can to keep my shit together. I’m not here to kick his ass, but I swear to God I want to.
More than anything.
He just needs to hear directly from me how things will go from here.
So there are no misunderstandings. No confusion.
My fist slams his door when I knock, and I remind myself to breathe. This can go several different ways, but I’m committed to keeping things civil.
Mostly.
A light switches on in the foyer, the lock clicks, then I’m looking into the eyes of the man who just kissed my wife.
“West,” he sighs.
“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.”
His nostrils flare with frustration, like my being here isn’t completely warranted. “Relax. Yes, I made a mistake, but—”
“You’re calling what you pulled a mistake?”
This motherfucker’s just aching for an ass kicking.
“Look,” he scoffs, “Blue and I were working and hanging out, it got late, and things got out of hand. That’s it.”
My shoulder’s starting to throb. Almost like an alarm, warning me to stick to why I came here.
“You’re done with the center. Tonight was the last time you’ll see her. The last time you’ll speak to her. Tell me I’ve made that crystal fucking clear.”
I can’t even blink. I’m staring at him because the desire to cause him bodily harm is as alive and real as I am.
“Sure. Got it,” is his response, but just as I’m about to let that be it… he smirks.
Don’t flip out.
Don’t put him on his ass and turn tonight into something it’s not supposed to be.
I’ve said my piece, and I’m done here. So, I turn and walk back into the rain, heading toward my truck.
“You’re trying to make me out to be the bad guy, but if things were so good between you two… why the hell was she alone with me tonight? Telling me all about how bad things have been between you lately?”
I stop dead in my tracks, replaying his claim in my head—that my wife actually confided in him about our problems. I’m desperate not to bring my pride into this. That could make this encounter dangerous in a lot of different ways.
I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the rain, the sound of a car’s tires rolling over the wet pavement, my own breathing.
Anything other than his words.
But the sound of wet footsteps as Seth steps off the porch behind me has my full attention.
“I mean, at this point, does she even still want to be married to you, man?”
Rage swells in my chest, making it hard to breathe, but I can’t engage. My emotions are too raw these days, my fuse too short. I don’t trust myself to even defend my character or my marriage, because with how my hands are shaking, I can’t say I won’t go too far.
Walk away.
Walk… the fuck… away.
I’ve just convinced myself to put one foot in front of the other when…
“Dude, I’m not trying to be a dick, but she’s fucking miserable. You have to see that. Everyone sees that,” he reasons. “Eventually, someone was gonna walk through the door you left open. Sure, tonight it was me, but a week from now? A month? It’s just gonna be some other guy.”
What little control I have over myself is starting to slip as I turn to face him again, immediately taking note of his smug expression.
“Listen. I wasn’t trying to overstep. I’m honestly not that kind of guy,” he explains. “But… she deserves to feel wanted again.”
I did my best. I swear I was committed to keeping this visit limited to a conversation, but he’s actually justifying that he violated my wife. It’s like he actually wants me to hit him in his shit.
So, far be it for me to disappoint.
It only takes one step to close the distance, and I gather the front of his shirt in one fist, then slam his jaw with the other. He slips in the wet grass and goes down, but I follow him to the ground, planting my knee in his chest.
My shoulder screams at me, and I flinch when a surge of white-hot pain flares through the muscle. When I draw my fist back, Seth’s hands shoot out to block the inevitable blow.
“Shit! What the hell’s wrong with you?”
I ignore the question and hit him in his mouth.
Hard.
Blood coats his teeth when he tries to speak again. “I—”
I connect with his jaw again, effectively shutting him up, but now I can’t stop. I hit him with blow after blow as the rain soaks us, mixing blood with water as it streaks down Seth’s face.
“Stop!” Someone yells in the distance but stopping isn’t an option.
I’m vaguely aware of the light of someone’s camera in my peripheral, but I’m in a blind rage. Not sure at what point it’ll feel like I’ve done enough, at what point it’ll feel like I taught him the lesson I intended to teach.
But then I hear it…
The sirens.
I freeze with my fist in midair, barely able to restrain myself, but I back away, standing to my feet. My eyes never leave Seth, though. He’s breathing but can hardly keep his eyes open.
“Fuck…”
I grip my hair with both hands, and with pain shooting through my shoulder like lightning, I’m keenly aware of how badly I just fucked up.
The glare of red and blue lights reflects off the rain-slicked siding of the house.
The cruiser tires screech behind me, and only now do I realize there are people everywhere.
I was so focused on beating the shit out of Seth, I’m not sure how long they’ve been here.
Not sure how much they’ve seen or recorded.
There are phones pointed at me from all angles, and I hear their whispers in the rain. And their whispering my name.
My eyes fall closed as the full scope of what I’ve done hits me. For so long, my last name has carried one hell of a stigma, thanks to my father. My brothers and I committed to showing this city they’ve been wrong about us, but now… I just ruined all we’ve fought so hard to prove.
Soon—if it hasn’t happened already—my face will be plastered all over social media, images and videos of me looking completely unhinged.
And I’m trying not to imagine what Blue will think. She’s already so distant, so distrustful… this was the last thing we needed.
Car doors open and slam behind me, then I hear the boots. Two cops close in on me, shining flashlights at my chest, my face.
“Hands where we can see them?”
I lift both hands in the air, but I don’t speak. Another cop lowers my arms behind my back, and a breath hisses between my teeth as I wince and cool metal closes around my wrists. He stands me up.
“Any weapons we should know about?”
“No,” I grumble.
“I’m gonna pat you down. Anything in your pockets that might stick me?”
“No.”
He feels both my pockets, down my pant legs, my ankles. “All clear,” he says to another officer.
The pain in my shoulder is vicious, and I’m breathing harder than before.
“You’re under arrest,” he says, and I’m numb as he reads me my rights while escorting me to the back of a cruiser.
He opens the door and lowers my head as I climb in.
Then… he slams the door, sealing me in with the reality of what I’ve done.
I hear a familiar voice through the window but can’t make out what’s being said. I spot Ricky in the crowd, standing in the rain as he talks to the cops. His jaw is tight, and I can only guess what he’s saying, how he’s trying to plead my case.
But it’s too late for that, and whatever happens next… it’s all on me.