Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Sweet Jesus.
I’m not thinking straight as I yank my phone out and dial his number. There’s a cooler breeze today, but I’m flushed, sweat running down my back as I stand in the flower beds he ruined and listen to the sound of it ringing.
“Winnie,” Holden says softly when he answers. “Hi.”
“Don’t give me that crap. Why did you do it?”
“I wondered when you’d call.” He blows right past my question. Typical.
“Holden, how could you?” I snap. Everything is shaking—my hands, my voice, my bones. I feel like I’m about to shatter. “How dare you.”
“Oh,” he says, his voice hollow with disappointment. “Yes. I thought you might have had a change of heart.”
“Change of heart? Go to hell.” I’m so mad I’m spitting. I start pacing across the crumbling soil of the flower beds. “I know what you did and you don’t get to deny it.”
“Winnie—”
“No. You listen and listen good. If you ever come here again, it’s all-out war. Do you hear me? Do you understand?”
He sighs. Just like he has a thousand times before when I complained, like I’m some petulant child burdening him. “You’re confused. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The fuck you do.”
“You’re really going to swear at me?”
“Why not?” I mock through acid tears.
I hate how I cry when I’m angry—it takes the edge off my rage. No one takes a crybaby seriously.
“Let me guess, it isn’t proper like nice young ladies are supposed to be for a senator’s son? Newsflash, Holden. I’m not nice. But I’m still a thousand times kinder than you.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice after you fled our wedding.”
“Then why are you going around destroying other people’s property in some sick, stupid attempt to get me back? I don’t do threats.” It’s laughable, really, the fact that he thought this could bully me back into line.
Is that all I am to him? To my family?
A throwaway who’s easily intimidated.
No!
Actually, I’m so angry I can’t see straight.
“Winnie, I didn’t do whatever you’re accusing me of,” he says.
I laugh, high-pitched and scornful.
There’s a chance I might be losing it, but I don’t care.
“Save yourself the gaslighting, Holden. I know it was you. And FYI, there’s nothing you could do to ever convince me to marry you again. I told you, we’re done. You were a rotten boyfriend and you would’ve been the worst husband.”
“Like you were perfect?” he snarls, then hesitates, like he remembers he’s supposed to be winning me over. “Look, no one’s perfect, not all the time, but—”
“All the time? You want to know what it was like dating you? It felt like looking across the table and seeing my father. Cold, indifferent, obsessed with his image and his next career move. You never loved me.”
“That’s… that’s not true,” he sputters.
“Isn’t it? You put your career first, second, and third.” It feels good to get this out while he’s struck speechless.
Cathartic in a way.
I’ve never said any of this to his face, and he deserves to hear it.
I want him to know how shitty he was, even if the memories make my throat tight.
“You’re remembering things wrong,” he whispers, back to his practiced tone, numb with the endless patience.
“And you’re patronizing as hell,” I snap. “You’re belittling, you’re childish, you’re selfish. Worst of all, you’re a coward, Holden, lashing out like a kid when you don’t get your way. You never once made me feel special, you know. You never put me first. And looking at you, I could see my future… I’d wind up just like my mother. No thanks.”
“Your mom is—”
“Miserable.” I’m full-on crying now, yes, and it’s gross. All snot and tears and those heaving panicked breaths I can’t control. My body doesn’t know what it’s doing today. “My mom is miserable and lonely and a pushover. That’s not me, Holden. Go find yourself another doormat.”
“Doormat? Hold up—”
“No. Why don’t you just admit it?” I practically scream. “The only thing you care about is your fucking career. I embarrassed you and you want to make me pay. You don’t even want me back at all. Say it.”
Holden yells something through the phone, unintelligible and garbled, and the phone flies out of my hand.
I don’t know what happened until I look up.
I never saw Archer approach, but he’s here now, a stone expression on his face that’s ready for murder.
If Holden was here, there would be blood on the ground, I’m pretty sure. And I’m not sure I’d mind seeing it.
“You’re blocked, asshole,” Archer says. He has no right sounding so menacing when I was—and still am—falling apart. “You’re not breathing another word to Winnie. Not today. Not fucking ever.”
More incoherent buzz from the speaker.
Holden hates it when people talk down to him, and Archer is so clearly the dominant man in this situation. Holden will hate that even more.