Chapter 8
kelsey
Teddy’s guest bathroom was exactly what I’d come to expect from his new minimalist lifestyle.
White subway tile stretched from floor to ceiling, the dark grout lines giving it a clean, industrial edge.
An exposed copper pipe fed into a rainfall shower head behind a glass shower door framed in matte black steel.
Black-and-white hexagon tiles formed a precise pattern along the floor, making the space feel more like a city loft apartment than a mountain cabin.
But it was the collection of bath products in the shower that made my eyebrows climb toward my hairline. Verbena shower gel, lavender shampoo with prebiotic, and even the almond shower oil I used to hide in the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink like contraband.
The same expensive products he’d grumbled about during our marriage, claiming they were identical to the stuff they sold in the drugstore, just with fancy labels.
Either he’d developed a sudden appreciation for luxury bath products, or someone else was using his shower. Someone who shared my affinity for overpriced toiletries and burly bikers.
Of course. The mysterious H probably stayed over often enough to warrant her own shower products. The fancy kind, because Teddy would want to spoil his new woman. Give her all the things he’d complained about giving me.
God, I was a fool. Standing here making his favorite breakfast while he was probably at her place, explaining how his ex-wife had shown up like some deranged stalker.
I cranked the water as hot as I could stand it before stepping under the spray, letting it pound the tension from my neck and shoulders.
If only it could erase the memory of Teddy’s hands on my frozen skin, the feel of his breath against my neck, the way he’d called me baby like the past two years hadn’t happened.
Verbena-scented steam filled the small enclosure as I washed the dried blood and sweat from my skin, hating how it immediately transported me back to lazy Sunday mornings when we still showered together, his hands sliding over my soapy skin while the kids watched cartoons downstairs.
My oat milk latte soured in my stomach at the thought of another woman standing exactly where I stood, giggling at the scrape of his beard against her neck.
Shampoo suds made their way down my forehead and into my eyes. At least, that was what I told myself. The alternative—that I was crying in my ex-husband’s shower over the thought of him showering with someone who wasn’t me—made me sound unhinged.
By the time I stepped out, my skin was pink and tender, but at least I felt clean. Human, even. After brushing my teeth with his toothbrush—because apparently boundaries meant nothing to me anymore—I knotted a towel around my body and opened the bathroom door, running right into Teddy.
The duffel bag he was carrying hit the floor with a heavy thud, its contents spilling out like evidence at a crime scene—my clothes, medications, and the lingerie I’d packed in a moment of temporary insanity.
“Who’s it for?” The words shot out of him before I’d even steadied myself.
“What—what are you talking about?” I clutched the towel tighter, hyperaware of how little it covered. How we were standing close enough for me to see the snow clinging to his hair.
Teddy’s eyes tracked the movement, pupils dilating in a way that made heat pool low in my belly.
“The lingerie.” He bent to scoop up a handful of lace, waving it between us. “Who’s. It. For?”
“Are you serious—how’d you get into the cabin?” I managed to snatch a pair of panties from his grip, heat crawling up my neck.
“Through the door.”
“That’s called breaking and entering, Theodore.” I tried for stern, but it came out breathless. “If there’s any damage to the property, so help me—”
“There won’t be.” His gaze dropped to where the towel gaped at my thigh before jerking back to my face. “I own it.”
I blinked; certain I’d misheard. “You what?”
“The cabin you were staying in. I own it.”
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, when he just stood there with his jaw set and his shoulders tense, the full weight of it crashed over me. The mismatched mugs, the wonky reindeer, the way everything had felt somehow familiar—it was his.
The girls had let me think I was escaping to neutral territory, then literally put me in his house.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice came out smaller than I intended.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a tell I immediately recognized. That was the problem with marrying your high school sweetheart, with building a life so intertwined that even two years and five hundred miles couldn’t fully separate you.
“If I’d told you that first night, you would’ve packed your shit and left. Driven off into a blizzard rather than stay in something I owned. Tell me I’m wrong.”
He was right, which only made me angrier.
“That’s what I thought,” he continued when I remained silent. “It wouldn’t have been fair to the girls. They wanted one Christmas where we could all be together without the drama.”
Everything always came back to what was best for the girls, what would cause them the least disappointment, the least disruption.
“Without the drama?” A laugh bubbled up, tinged with hysteria. “You mean without me ruining everything? Without me being the difficult one? The bad mom who can’t keep her shit together?”
All the times I’d thought I was helping, thought I was being the strong one, holding everyone together while Teddy retreated to the club. But maybe I’d had it backward. Maybe I’d been the one they all had to work around, the weak link in our family chain.
The last time I’d seen Levi really smile—not the forced one he wore like armor, but a real smile—had been three months before he died.
Teddy had taken him to some motorcycle rally for spring break, just the two of them, and they’d come home covered in mud and grinning like idiots.
I’d been furious about the mess, about Teddy encouraging reckless behavior when Levi was already so fragile.
But looking back, maybe that was the problem. I’d treated him like delicate glass while Teddy had treated him like a normal kid. Maybe if I’d been less afraid, less controlling, less desperate to fix everything—
“That’s not what I meant.” Teddy’s hand brushed my shoulder, his voice low, dangerous. “Jesus, Kels. You’re not—”
I jerked away from his touch. “Then what did you mean? Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you all decided I needed to be handled. Tricked into proximity because God forbid anyone actually talk to me like an adult.”
He moved closer, backing me against the doorframe. “You wanna talk about being adults? Fine. Let’s talk about this.” The panties he’d held onto dangled from the end of his index finger. “Because last I checked, you weren’t wearing anything like this when we were married.”
“Last I checked, we aren’t married anymore.” I tried stepping around him, but he moved with me, blocking my path. “What I wear under my clothes is none of your business.”
“It damn well is when you’re—” He stopped, the muscle in his jaw pulsing wildly.
But I wasn’t in the mood to hear the rest of his sentence.
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” I bit out before pushing past him, needing to put some distance between us before I did something monumentally stupid.
Like sob uncontrollably. Or worse—admit that the lingerie had been for me.
A pathetic attempt to feel desirable after two years of sleeping alone in flannel pajamas that might as well have been a chastity belt.
I made it maybe ten feet before his hand caught my elbow, spinning me back around with enough force to make the towel slip. I clutched at it with my free hand, trying to maintain some illusion of dignity.
“We’re talking about this now,” he growled, and God help me, the rough edge in his voice did things to my insides that had no business happening when I was this angry.
“No. We’re not.” I yanked my arm free or tried to. His grip didn’t budge. “Let go, Teddy.”
“Not until you tell me who he is.”
“Who who is?” I knew exactly what he meant but making him spell it out felt like the only power I had left.
“The man you bought the underwear for.” His free hand gestured down the hall where he’d dropped the offending scraps of lace. “The one you’re—”
“The one I’m what?” I lifted my chin, defiant even in a towel that barely covered the essentials. “Sleeping with? Touching? All the things you haven’t done in years?”
His nostrils flared, and something dangerous flashed in his hazel eyes. The kind of look that used to precede either spectacular fights or spectacular sex, sometimes both in the same night.
“Tell me his name.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“His name, Kels.”
“Do you hear yourself? You sound like a caveman.” I tried to step back, but he moved with me again, crowding me against the wall. “What’s next, tough guy? Gonna beat your chest and mark your territory?”
“Don’t tempt me.” Teddy’s hand dropped from my elbow to the towel, fingers curling over the knot before he tugged me closer. Until our bodies were flush, until I could feel every hard line of him against me.
His mouth dropped to my ear, his beard scraping against my cheek as he asked, “Wanna know what I’ll do if another man touches you, baby?”
My heart hammered against my ribs, every nerve ending suddenly, painfully alive. “Teddy—”
“I’ll hunt him down,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll break every goddamned bone in his body. Leave him breathing just long enough to regret ever looking at what’s mine.”
The words should have made me angrier. Should have sent me into a feminist rage about autonomy and toxic masculinity and all the things Sky was always speaking out against. Instead, they sent liquid heat pooling between my thighs, my body apparently having missed the memo that we were supposed to be over this man.