Prologue
ABBEY
“You asshole!” I shout, shoving at his chest.
“I told you we were too young! That we rushed this!” Jude shouts just as loudly.
There’s something in his eyes, but I’m not clear-headed enough to analyze what it is. He’s broken something inside of me, and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to get it back.
“I don’t care about any of that!” I turn away, pacing toward the front door of our apartment—our home. “How could you do this?” My voice is so quiet now; all the fight drained from my body. Slowly, I turn back to him, tears welling in my eyes. “I never would have thought you could do something like this to me—to us.”
“Abbey—” Jude steps forward, reaching for me, but I don’t let him touch me.
“No. You don’t get to touch me right now.” Jude flinches, and I wipe frantically at my face. “I don’t know how we fix this.” My voice cracks, and I desperately fight to hold back the sobs building in my chest.
My eyes fall to the floor. If I keep looking at Jude, I’ll break, and I don’t feel safe doing that here anymore, not after what I’ve just discovered.
Squaring my shoulders, and with a conviction I don’t actually feel, I meet his eyes. “You want out of this marriage, you got it. I’ll come back tomorrow to get my things. Please don’t be here.”
Somehow, I walk out the door without looking back at him. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t stay—not after this.
Jude might have been telling me for weeks we made a mistake getting married, but I never thought he was capable of hurting me. I never thought he would go to these lengths to prove me wrong, but maybe I don’t actually know Jude like I thought I did.
Stumbling out the bar's back door, I look around, trying to figure out where I should go. The person I most want to talk to is my mother, but going to my parent's house means seeing my father, and I just know he’ll gloat about my failed marriage.
The need for my mother’s comfort far outweighs the dread of seeing my father. She’ll let me cry and scream and feel whatever I need to feel without judgment or comment, and that’s what I need more than anything else.
Still refusing to look back at the building that has been nothing but comfort since I first walked through the doors, I steal my spine and walk toward the street.
Maybe the long walk will help me figure out what just happened.